“Whew, hot out,” grunted the big, sweaty man, getting back into his moving van. “Glad that’s over with, eh, Doug?”

Doug wiped sweat out of his scrubby mustache with the back of one hairy hand. “Yeah. Godric’s Hollow’s a weird place, everyone says so. My brother Dinsdale’s a postman, and he hangs up ten rabbit’s feet every time he’s got to make a delivery. Which ain’t often, mind you. They don’t get much mail.”

The other man snorted. “That don’t surprise me. They’re all weirdos. I reckon half this town’s in some kinda cult, walkin’ around in cloaks all the time…and owls are always flyin’ all over the place, even when it’s light out.”

“Wonder how long the Anderson family will last livin’ here,” said Doug thoughtfully. “Can’t believe they moved into Number Nine. Their neighbours are the biggest loonies in England, from what I hear. Dinsdale says there’s always explosions comin’ out of Number Seven, and howling noises, and once he swears he saw someone flyin’ around on a broom.”

“Wonder what drugs he was on at the time.”

“Shut up, Orville.”

“Hey, we both know Dinsdale’s half-mad. He says he sees ten-storey hedgehogs named Spiny Norman stomping around London. Bet the people in Number Seven are just normal people with a lot of weird rumours about them going around,” Orville insisted.

Doug laughed. “Normal my bum. Tell me how normal you think they are when they’ve tied you up to a stake and sprinklin’ paprika on you and tryin’ to sacrifice you to the cattle god Moostawfuh or something.” He reached in his pocket. “Here, have a rabbit’s foot.”

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

* * * * * *

It was a normal summer day in the Potter household. There was a werewolf at the kitchen table, owls were flying in and out of the windows, several people were zooming around on broomsticks in the backyard, and a man suddenly turned into a large canary after eating a biscuit. Not many other families could say that this was, in fact, normal, but whatever Orville might argue, the Potters weren’t exactly a normal family.

The word ‘family’ was to be used in the loosest sense possible. One thing a visitor to Number Seven, Griffin Circle, Godric’s Hollow felt as soon as he stepped into the foyer was a sense of family, a sort of acceptance.

One person who could definitely testify to this was fifteen-year-old Ivy Potter. She had been adopted the previous year by Harry and Ginny Potter, as her birth parents, the Malfoys, were rather unsuitable parents (being convicted criminals, one of whom was currently a soulless lump lying in St. Mungo’s.)

Ivy was sweet, shy, and studious, but she was instantly recognizable as a blood relative of Draco Malfoy in any case. This was because she had the family white-blonde hair in a tight braid down to her waist, grey eyes, pale complexion, and pointed features. Ivy didn’t think of Malfoy as a family member, however-- she and her friends had successfully defeated him two months prior, ending his stint as the leader of a Dark Arts organization called the Overseers.

At the moment Ivy was deep in conversation with the resident werewolf, who happened to be quite a pleasant young man named Ted Lupin. Although Ted’s father, Remus, was also a werewolf, Ted had become one in somewhat unusual circumstances�”he’d been attacked by one of Malfoy’s werewolf agents the previous Christmas Eve. Luckily, he was an optimistic and easygoing boy who had a good sense of humour, all of which helped him handle his condition better.

His transformations left him tired and worn-looking, his face thin beneath his shaggy light brown hair, and his clear blue eyes ringed by dark circles, but he almost always wore a warm smile on his face. He had grown extremely tall and thin over the last year, and he still hadn’t gotten used to his newly lanky body-- he was gangly and awkward, somewhat resembling a scarecrow. But though physically uncoordinated, Ted had a special gift of understanding people, especially Ivy, and they were particularly close because of this.

The man who had turned into a canary molted, and a petite girl with bouncy black hair giggled. “Uncle Ron, I can’t believe you fell for Canary Creams-- your brothers invented them, for Godric’s sake! Didn’t they teach you these kinds of things in your Auror training?”

Harriet-Lily “Call-Her-That-And-You’re-Dead-Meat” Potter often pulled this sort of practical joke, as two of the loves of her life were pranks and sugary foods. Haley, as she was known, was a very energetic and somewhat hyperactive girl who seemed younger than fifteen, and had a flair for the dramatic�”she loved musical theatre-- and a deep-seated hatred for anyone who had a habit of raising one eyebrow, something that Haley could only do in her wildest dreams.

In the backyard, Haley’s twin brother Jordan had just scored playing one-on-one Quidditch against their cousin, Emma Weasley. Jordan was an unusual boy-- very intelligent, logical-minded and talented, but rather irritable by nature, he usually preferred books to regular human company, but was nonetheless an excellent athlete. He had struggled for years with a bit of an inferiority complex-- who wouldn’t, being the son of Harry Potter?

It didn’t help that he had the same messy black hair and emerald-green eyes, though he had the features and freckled complexion of his mother’s side of the family, and he wore contact lenses. He always worked extremely hard in school, much more so than Haley, who seemed not to care about petty things like homework, assignments, studying, and final exams.

Emma snatched the ball from him, and flew off toward her hoop, her long waves of reddish-brown hair flying out behind her. She was Haley’s best friend as well as her cousin, and was exceedingly bold and adventurous-- too bold for her own good, as she had a temper and was always getting into sticky situations. She tended to speak or act before she thought things through and was very proficient at hexing, both of which made it dangerous to get on her bad side. Many would rather face a Basilisk’s stare than have to stare into Emma’s blazing dark brown eyes when she was in one of her tempers.

She was also considered one of the prettiest girls in the school (particularly by one Tyrone Thomas) but nobody ever mistook her for another pretty face.. and if anyone did, she often quickly corrected them in a rather painful manner. She played Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and she managed to make reasonably good marks, although she never worked especially hard in school.

“Emma, you know you can’t win. There’s forty seconds left in the game, and I’m beating you one-zip,” Jordan pointed out as he blocked Emma’s shot.

“Ahhh, that’s what you think. Letting you get cocky is just part of my grand master plan. I’m luring you into a false sense of security, and then I’m going to clobber you!” cackled Emma, whipping around on her broom.

“If that really was your secret plan you wouldn’t have told it to me, now would you?” asked Jordan.

Emma opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the sound of breaking glass. “I’ll go see what that is,” groaned Jordan, coasting down to the ground and hopping off his broom. “Haley probably invaded my room again and destroyed half my things.”

“Fine, but I win by forfeit!” shouted Emma, doing a victory twirl in midair.

Jordan ignored her and loped around to the front of the house-- or, rather, manor, for that was technically what his home was. Number Five belonged to Emma’s immediate family. But the driveway of Number Nine, the house on the other side of his own, was currently decorated by a large moving van, and Jordan soon discovered the source of the crash.

A tall, skinny girl was bending over a spilled box that evidently contained the remains of what had once been a rather expensive-looking set of china.

“Here I’ll help with that,” offered Jordan, and he scooped the rest of the broken fragments into the box, taking care not to cut himself.

At this point, he got a good look at the girl. She had electric tangerine-colored hair chopped off just below the ear, framing a triangular face. Her face looked a bit like that of a cartoon character-- she had big, wide set brown eyes, a wide smiley mouth, and a little dash of a nose.

The girl wore an outfit quite unlike any that Jordan had seen before, consisting of a blue t-shirt advertising Spam, red plaid bell-bottom pants held up by a black and silver smiley-face belt, and old grey waistcoat that looked as though she may have stolen it from her grandfather, a black beret, purple high-top sneakers, about a thousand different bangle bracelets, and giant dangly earrings shaped like an ‘x’ and an ‘o.’

“I’m Jordan, by the way,” Jordan introduced himself. “I live next door.”

The girl’s jaw dropped and her eyes grew as wide as saucers, making her look like more of a cartoon character than ever. “How do you spell that?” she demanded.

“T-H-A-T,” spelled Jordan flatly.

“No, you twit, I meant your name!” the girl exclaimed, sounding exasperated.

“J-O-R-D-A-N, the normal way. How else would you spell it?” asked Jordan.

“G-I-O-R-D-A-N!” squealed the girl. “Because that’s my name! Giordan Ann Anderson. Everyone calls me Giorgi, though, unless I’m in trouble.”

Well, this is fortunate, Jordan thought to himself sarcastically. A girl with the same name as his. He’d known that Jordan was sometimes a girls’ name, but he’d never met one, and the feeling was somehow embarrassing. True, he’d met people before who had asked, ‘Which is which?’ when introduced to twins named Haley and Jordan, but at least Haley had been equally humiliated then.

He changed the subject. “So, are you some Weasley I’ve never met?” Jordan asked, eyeing her neon orange hair.

“A Weasley?” she repeated blankly.

“They’re a family I know-- they’ve all got bright red hair,” Jordan explained. So this girl didn’t know who the Weasleys were? But they’d been famous ever since the final battle! Decidedly odd.

The girl laughed and ran her hand through blinding hair. “I like to mess around with my hair,” she explained. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t my natural colour, but I don’t even remember what it is anymore. That’s why online, I’m called rainbowbrite04.”

“You like to go online, too? Me, too!” said Jordan. He was not normally very talkative or particularly friendly toward new faces, but he’d never met anyone else who was interested in computers.

They’d learned very briefly about computers in Muggle Studies the previous year, and although the professor didn’t know much about the subject, the concept of a computer had so fascinated Jordan that he�”in typical Jordan fashion�”had gotten truly obsessed and learned all he could about them.

He’d received his very own laptop for his fifteenth birthday from his Grandfather Arthur, and the two of them had spent many hours trying to explore the entire World Wide Web. Everyone else seemed to think his hobby ridiculous or even unhealthy, but Jordan didn’t see why. He loved nothing more than new information, and the internet was chock-full of it.

“I’m known as sgtjpepper online,” he said.

“Beatles fanatic?” Giorgi asked with a smirk, and Jordan nodded affirmatively. He was rather impressed. This girl knew Muggle music as well as Muggle technology? This was certainly a new one. He’d always thought he was the only person in the school at all serious about Muggle Studies. “They’re okay, I guess. By the way, are you going to Cresthill High School when school starts again? I don’t know anyone-- we just got here, my dad’s transferred to work at some firm called Grunnings.”

It was an innocuous question, but hearing it made Jordan’s mind spin. The bottom dropped out of his brain, and his eyeballs froze. Cresthill High? The local school? Giorgi was a Muggle! An actual Muggle family lived next door to him! True, Hogsmeade was the only all-wizard village in Britain, but Godric’s Hollow was a small and secluded village of manors, and there were few Muggles anywhere near.

It was like finally seeing the Loch Ness Monster after years of careful study and research. Jordan felt like yelling, “MERLIN’S NOSE HAIR, A MUGGLE!” But as he was not, after all, Haley, all he said was, “I go to a private boarding school, up in Scotland.”

“That stinks, I’d hate to have to wear a uniform,” Giorgi sighed.

“Yes, I can see that,” Jordan replied. He found it so incredibly interesting how Muggles managed without magic-- and he couldn’t think what they could possibly learn in their non-magic schools.

“Of course, I have to wear a uniform when I do gym, but I don’t mind, I love sport. Do you play anything?” she asked.

“Um, yeah, I do,” said Jordan, trying to think of a Muggle equivalent of Quidditch. “I’m er, on my school’s… uh… football team.”

“Excellent, football’s the best!” exclaimed Giorgi. “Who’s your favourite player?”

This would have been quite a sticky situation, but luckily for Jordan, salvation came in the shape of one of the last people he’d have expected it from. “Jordan, our schoolbook lists have just arrived, and Mum wants to go shopping,” announced Haley. She then started as she noticed Giorgi. “Hi, I’m Haley,” she introduced herself cheerfully. “Don’t let my brother bore you.”

“I’m Giorgi, I just moved in,” replied Giorgi. “And actually, he’s not that boring. Of course, I’ve been entertained by playing lint football, with the lint as the ball, my right hand as Manchester United, and my left hand as Brazil, so I’m, like, really easily amused.”

“Well, I guess I have to go now,” Jordan told her, somewhat gratefully, as he began edging toward his house.

“All right, I’ll email you,” responded Giorgi cheerfully, kicking the box of china fragments behind a hedge with yet another ominous crash.

As soon as the twins were out of Giorgi’s earshot and safely inside the house, Haley shouted, “Hey, everyone! Guess what Jordan’s been doing? He’s been making friends with the new neighbors! Our Jordan! Making friends!”

“Ooh, it’s a sign of the apocalypse,” Jordan muttered sarcastically. He was a bit upset with himself for telling Giorgi that he was a football player. Now she would probably email him and want to know all about his favourite team, and it would cause a lot of unnecessary trouble.

But there were more important things on his mind right now. As Haley flounced toward the sitting room, Jordan noticed a thick envelope addressed to him sitting on the table… an envelope with the Hogwarts seal on it.

Normally, his booklist was not of special interest to him, but this year was different-- fifth year was the year that Prefects were chosen, and he had looked forward to nothing more than the day he received his Prefect badge, ever since his first year. He reached for the envelope with trembling fingers and tore it open, feeling like Charlie Bucket looking for a golden ticket.

And just like Charlie Bucket, Jordan gasped as he saw the glint of gold winking up from inside the envelope. He pulled out the small, round badge and clasped his hand around it. Being a Prefect really meant a lot to him; it was more than just a title, it was a position of authority. Jordan would be looked up to by younger students and respected by teachers.

He’d be given responsibilities and actually have the chance to do something that made a difference around Hogwarts. Also… and though this wasn’t something of which he was proud, it was true nonetheless… Jordan had always wanted power. He wanted the ability to make decisions, not just for himself, but for many people. He wanted to be recognized and respected. And being a Prefect was one stop closer to his goal.

He turned over the badge to examine the finely engraved words, “HOGWARTS PREFECT.” But he almost dropped the badge when he saw the lettering. Something was wrong… they’d sent him the wrong badge… the lettering read, “QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN.”

Quidditch Captain? True, Jordan was good at Quidditch, and there was no denying it. But so was Emma… and Tyrone Thomas, the Beater… and Edwin Weasley, the Chaser. All of them could have just as easily gotten the badge. But no one rivaled Jordan when it came to eligibility for the Prefects’ badge.

He had perfect grades, nothing below an O in all his four years of school. He’d only gotten detention once, and that was an unfair punishment in his first year for helping to save Ivy’s life in the Forbidden Forest. Jordan had probably earned more points to Gryffindor than everyone else in the year put together. It was selfish of him, but Jordan knew he deserved the badge, and he wanted it more than anything. What could have happened?

He put down the letter and slouched into the sitting room where he knew everyone else was waiting for him to go shopping. As soon as he entered the room, Haley exclaimed, “Hey, Jordan, guess who the Gryffindor Prefects are?”

“No clue,” said Jordan flatly.

His sister gestured grandly toward Ivy and Ted. “Ta-daa!” she sang. Ted and Ivy smiled, though somewhat apologetically.

Jordan couldn’t believe it. Ted was a Prefect. Ted Lupin had been chosen as a Prefect over him. Ivy he could understand-- she was smart, a good student, and much more responsible than Haley and Emma…though this wasn’t saying a lot.

But Ted? Sure, he was nice, a good friend, and undeniably brave, but how could this have made him better qualified for the badge? Where did being nice get you in life? Perhaps McGonagall had thought that Ted and Ivy would work nicely as a team… or maybe there was a different reason.

A new thought popped into Jordan’s head, a thought that made him incredibly glad that no one in the room could read minds: McGonagall only picked Ted because she feels sorry for him. It’s because he’s a werewolf.

He instantly felt horrible for thinking this about his friend. Being a werewolf had never stopped Ted from doing anything before, and it was just another fact of life-- “Ted will turn into a wolf every full moon.” But the truth was, he couldn’t think of another reason why Ted would have been chosen as a Prefect.

He looked up at his friend the Prefect and opened his mouth to speak. There had been a time not too long before when Jordan would have raged and stormed and shouted at him. There had been a time when he would have made a cryptic, sarcastic remark and stomped off to his room to sulk for the rest of the day. But those days were over, and Jordan wasn’t that person anymore. He maneuvered an uncomfortable smile onto his face.

“Congratulations,” he said. “I’ll bet anything that you’re going to do a good job together.”

Jordan’s father, Harry, looked at him, and it was that eerily understanding look that made Jordan, an Occlumens nonetheless, feel strangely uncomfortable. “It’s the Potter Men’s Curse,” Harry told his son. “Potter men are never picked as Prefects. I wasn’t, and neither was my dad.” He paused thoughtfully. “Another part of the curse is the hair, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

This didn’t help as much as his father had hoped it would. Just another way I’m like my dad, thought Jordan. The one thing that always separated Dad and me is that he’s the Quidditch captain type, and I’m the Prefect type. Now even that’s gone. He sighed, then tried to shake the thought from his mind. He was trying to be a better person, but his brain wasn’t cooperating very well with this plan.

Rebellious thoughts aside, Jordan pushed the smile back onto his face. “What are we waiting for?” he said, trying to keep the flatness in his voice to a bare minimum. “Let’s go to Diagon Alley.”

* * * * * *

A week later, the five friends had just arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and were preparing to board the Hogwarts Express.

Haley had caused a spot of bother, insisting on cartwheeling through the barrier and attracting the attention of several Muggles-- apparently, it was something she had wanted to do since her first year, and hadn’t gotten the courage to do until then. Jordan hardly believed this explanation, as Haley usually never held back when it came to doing incredibly embarrassing things in public places.

Speaking of Muggles, Jordan reflected on a bit of questionable magic he had done earlier. He had surreptitiously taken the box of shattered china from behind the hedge at Giorgi’s house and carried it up to his room. There, he had done his first illegal deed ever: he had practiced underage magic, performing the Reparo spell on it.

He knew it would be undetected by the ministry, as the house he was in was a wizarding dwelling, and Haley was always doing underage magic, but he felt like some sort of criminal as he snuck back to Giorgi’s and replaced the box behind her hedge.

But the scary part was, it had been fun. There had been a strange, tingling thrill in his stomach that had been caused by breaking the rules, a thrill he’d never gotten from reading or studying, and that really disturbed him.

“Jordan!” He was shaken from his thoughts by a deep, silky-sounding voice. “Good to see you! Hey there Ted, hi ladies.” It was Tyrone Thomas, a boy who was very popular, extremely good-looking, and quite aware of both of these facts. He had long had a bit of a love-hate relationship with Emma (she was the one doing the hating, while he represented the other side), but now the two of them were friends, which was a rather nice change.

“Hi, Tyrone,” Emma greeted him. “Um, what’s wrong with your lip?”

“What?” Tyrone looked startled.

“Your top lip,” repeated Emma.

Tyrone stroked the area in question. “You mean my…mustache?” he asked.

“That? It’s just a few fluffy hairs, you loony. Get over it,” smirked Emma, though her voice was playful.

Despite the so-called mustache, Tyrone really was handsome. He was tall and well-built with creamy deep brown skin and a broad film-star smile. He had short black curls, shiny with gel, and slanting hazel eyes that gave him an exotic flair. He’d inherited the eyes from his mother, Parvati Thomas, who had been murdered the previous year. His mother’s death had really upset him, but he usually had a cheery, casual demeanor, nonetheless.

“Hey, can I sit with you lot on the train?” he asked easily. “I usually hang out with the same group on the train, but I figure why not have a bit of a change for once?”

“Well, that’s fine with me,” Ivy said. “But, erm, Ted and I won’t be there, because we’ll have to sit in the Prefects’ carriage.” She sounded somewhat uncomfortable with this as she snuck a glance at Jordan.

“We’ll come and sit with the rest of you later,” promised Ted.

“Cool, you’re a Prefect? Nice one!” Tyrone congratulated. “Does that mean that you can just walk around and yell ‘A SQUINTILLION POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN!’ and then poof! Slytherin’ll be short a squintillion points?”

“Prefects can’t actually take points from other houses,” Jordan pointed out knowledgeably. “And even if they could, there’s no such number as a squintillion.”

Tyrone grinned. “Lighten up, will you?” he told him leisurely. He blinked as he registered the Quidditch captain badge that Jordan was wearing. “So that’s who got the badge! I was wondering who that would be. I thought it might be Em if not me, but I guess I was wrong.”

“You weren’t the only one,” replied Jordan.

* * * * * *

The Prefects’ carriage was rather nicer than the regular ones, Ivy noticed immediately upon entering. The windows were clean and shiny, and the upholstery on the seats was new and uncracked. She looked around at her fellow prefects-- from Ravenclaw was a girl named Erika Corner and a boy she didn’t know named Linus Aster, from Hufflepuff was a boy she vaguely remembered as being called Rupert Daniels and a rather silly girl named Charlotte Dalton with whom she was familiar. And from Slytherin was Charybdis Nott, an extremely unpleasant girl she knew only too well (Charybdis had once dated Ophidias Malfoy) and a long-haired boy named Anatoly Capshaw.

But who was a Prefect was not of much interest to her. What did interest her was who the Head Boy was, the Head Boy who was now standing up to give a speech.

“Hello,” he greeted the group. “I, believe it or not, am your Head Boy, Edwin Weasley. Our lovely Head Girl can’t be here today because she lives in Scotland and can, like, walk to Hogwarts. But in any case, here I am, and believe me, I’m as surprised as you are that I’ve been named Head Boy. My Dad actually disowned me… well, he was kidding, of course. At least, I hope he was kidding.”

This elicited chuckles from everybody except Charybdis Nott, who rolled her eyes. Edwin was the son of George, infamous prankster and co-owner of “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’-- definitely not the Head Boy type.

“But then, I guess I should have known I’d be Head Boy and all, what with my charisma. Anyway, your job is to patrol the halls for a bit, and then you can go sit with your friends and do each others nails or whatever, capische?” Everyone nodded. “Cool. So, you can, er, go now. Please. I want to do my nails, too, you know.” As everyone scattered, he winked and whispered, “Ivy! Ted! Good job making Prefect!”

“Thanks, Edwin,” they replied in perfect, unrehearsed unison. As the two Gryffindor Prefects stepped into the hall, Ivy whispered, “Do you think Jordan is very upset about not being a Prefect?”

“It’s usually pretty easy to tell how Jordan feels about something,” replied Ted, thinking about all of the times Jordan had blown his top and started shouting like a madman. Then he thought about all of Jordan’s mysterious sulking and glaring and immediately retracted his statement.

“I guess he’s just growing up,” Ivy stated. “I can’t imagine him not caring about the badge. He’s really the Prefect type-- no offense,” she added quickly. She knew her brother, and although he tried to hide it, one of the few things he cared more about than school was his identity and getting recognition.

“None taken. I mean, I know as well as he does that he’s better qualified to be a Prefect than I am,” shrugged Ted. “My dad was a Prefect, but I’m not nearly as smart as him.”

Ivy thought briefly of her biological family-- both Draco and Pansy had been Prefects, as had her biological brother, Ophidias. Though neither Harry or Ginny Potter had ever been a Prefect, she was still following in her family’s footsteps. She blinked. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re a Prefect.”

Ted smiled. “Thanks.”

It was a quiet day for the Auror office, for which Head Auror Harry Potter was very grateful. After all of the chaos caused by Malfoy and the Overseers the previous year, and that idiotic teenage boy who had thought it would be funny to set off the Dark Mark in various public places for the last few months, it was good just to be able to relax.

Ron Weasley, Deputy Head Auror and caffeine addict, stood in the doorway to Harry’s office with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. “What’s up?” he greeted his friend. He’d started his bad habit of constantly drinking coffee and tea to keep his energy up when he’d had to take over for Harry as the Head of the Auror Department the previous year, and now he was stuck with it.

Harry stretched. “I’m just relaxing. I figure I’m going to have a lot of work to do, judging the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts and working on their security, so I’m taking this chance to rest.”

“Good idea. Hey, I saw you talking to Percy earlier,” Ron mentioned. “What was that about?” He had every right to be curious, as Percy was the Minister of Magic and consequently, their boss.

Harry leaned back in his chair. “It was about the elections. Let me tell you, I’m glad that I didn’t accept when he offered to let me be Minister of Magic. The next election is in May, so he has to start campaigning for reelection already.”

“Who’s his opponent?” asked Ron, settling down in a chair, interested.

“Tancred Apple from the Department of Muggle Relations, believe it or not,” responded the Head Auror, raising an eyebrow, a mannerism that would have earned him a bonk on the head with a pillow, had Haley been around.

“Apple? Oh, gag me with a spoon!” groaned Ron, wrinkling his long, freckled nose.

Harry smirked, eying the spoon that Ron had used to stir sugar into his coffee. “Do you want me to take that literally?” he asked jokingly, pulling out his wand.

“Shut up,” snorted Ron. “But seriously, Pretty Boy Apple? He’s got about all the brains of this cactus!” He gestured toward a small potted cactus on Harry’s desk.

“Please, don’t be rude to the cactus,” sighed Harry. “Yeah, Apple would be a terrible Minister of Magic-- but there’s just one catch.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s newly single,” said Harry.

“Oh dear.” Ron sunk down into his seat.

* * * * * *

The students were very busy trying to look as though they weren’t bored to death during the Sorting, almost as busy as they were with the task of trying to convince their stomachs not to growl too loudly. During the Sorting, Haley and Emma liked to play a game that involved inventing lives and personalities for the first years. Ivy and Ted liked to watch, amused, without contributing anything in case the first years overheard and didn’t find it quite as entertaining as they did. And Jordan liked to keep a disapproving look on his face and pretend he wasn’t listening.

“Amherst, Genevieve,” called Professor Granger-Weasley, and a girl with blonde hair and a turned-up nose sat on the stool.

“I bet she got a pedicure and a hairdo done at a fancy salon for the occasion. And I bet her family’s got buckets of money, and they buy her anything she wants, because they never have time for her, and they feel guilty about it. Oh, yeah-- and she probably puts caviar on everything instead of salt and pepper,” Emma whispered, as the hat bellowed “RAVENCLAW!”

Next, a sturdy-looking boy with very short hair, “Brodie, Maxwell,” sloped over to the stool. “I bet he’s got a zillion brothers, and they all play Quidditch a lot, because there are enough of them for two full teams. And he’s a beater, and he keeps hitting bludgers with his head, and he listens to heavy metal music, and he thinks that the Pythagorean Theorum is a pro wrestling move. And he probably picks his nose with his wand,” Haley giggled as the boy in question was sorted into Hufflepuff.

And so they continued until ‘Zelnis, Asta’ became a Slytherin and food appeared on the tables. With a sigh of relief, everyone began to eat ravenously and talk amongst themselves. Two small first years were having a rather interesting conversation, made even more interesting by the fact that they were sitting quite near Ted.

“I heard on the train that Professor Lupin’s a werewolf!” whispered one.

“No way! You’re making that up! The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, a dark creature? That’s some kind of joke!” exclaimed the other.

“”Nope, it’s true! And I heard that he’ll bite you if you don’t do your homework!”

Ivy and Ted exchanged glances. The image of kindly Professor Lupin biting students who hadn’t done their work was laughable. “You want to know something else about Professor Lupin?” put in Ted, leaning toward the first years. They nodded eagerly. “He’s my dad.”

They both gasped. One of them dropped his fork. “Sorry!” he squeaked.

Ted smiled warmly. “It’s okay. By the way, he is a werewolf, and I’m one, too. But we don’t bite people. I mean, seriously, which do you think tastes better, this awesome chocolate éclair, or some person?” He raised his eyebrows, paused dramatically, and took a big bite out of his éclair.

The first years were speechless.

Emma laughed. “Ted, if I were a first year, you’d have just scared me out of a year’s growth.” She took another look at the first years. “And they’re too small to risk that.”

Ted shrugged as he finished off his éclair, accidentally spraying Emma with crumbs as he spoke. “I wasn’t trying to scare them,” he said lightly. “Kind of the opposite, really.”

When the feast ended, Headmistress McGonagall stood up to make a speech. She was quite old-- about ninety, if Ivy’s calculations were correct-- but she didn’t seem it. Her steely grey hair had a thick streak of black in the front that swirled up into her tight bun, her jaw was strong, and her dark eyes were clear.

“Students, I have an extremely important announcement to make,” she proclaimed. “And I waited until after the feast to make it, because I didn’t want your hunger to distract you.” She looked at the crowd of students facing her expectantly. “This year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament,” he announced, then paused to allow the students to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ and chatter excitedly.

The five friends, however, weren’t quite as interested in this as everyone else, as Harry had ‘accidentally’ slipped the news to them a few months before. Still, they pretended to act just as surprised as everyone else, Haley going so far as to make an inhumanly loud noise best described as a ‘squee!’

“Now, I’m sure most of you are aware of the disastrous events that occurred at the last Triwizard Tournament, held twenty-five years ago-- and nobody knows what happened during the tournament any better than Mr. Harry Potter. So, as he’s now the head of the Auror department, he’s going to serve as one of our six judges and the Security Advisor for the tournament.”

More murmuring ensued here. Everyone (except for the first years) remembered Mr. Potter as their substitute Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher the previous year, and the way they saw it, his return to Hogwarts was definitely a welcome occurrence.

“Because of the lower level of danger in this tournament, the age requirement has been lowered to fifteen, which means that anyone fifteen or older may enter the tournament, although only one will be chosen to compete. Students representing Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving next week, so you have until then to decide whether you want to enter the tournament. And it is quite a decision to make-- the challenges in which each school’s champions participate will be very difficult and will require extremely hard work and dedication. As a champion, you will represent not only yourself, but the entire school as well.”

These words seemed to ring and reverberate in Jordan’s skull. He wanted the Triwizard cup, not just for the trophy, but for the honour. He wanted to prove that he had what it took to be victorious, to stride up to the front of the room as his name was announced in ringing tones-- “Jordan James Potter.” And he would do what his father hadn’t-- win fair and square, no professors or undercover Death Eaters or others ‘helping’ him.

The other Potter twin was also thinking of the Triwizard Tournament. It would be so much fun to be chosen the school champion… and even better, she would have an audience. She would have her chance to perform for the school, her moment in the spotlight. She knew she was good at the quick and spontaneous thinking that the tournament required�”for once her short attention span actually helped her there.

Emma thought wistfully of herself holding the cup above her head. She would love to compete-- she was extremely competitive and brave, and the Triwizard Tournament would be her biggest challenge to overcome yet. She imagined the adrenaline rush she’d get from the hundreds, even thousands of people watching her as she smoked through the three tasks, leaving the other two champions in the dust.

Ivy, however, would have rather eaten a bowl of leeches than enter. She knew that even though there was only a slight possibility that she’d be chosen, she wouldn’t have been able to stand being the Hogwarts champion. She’d be petrified by fear, too nervous to think straight. She’d humiliate herself in front of all of Hogwarts. And besides, it wasn’t like she needed a thousand Galleons. And while Ted had to admit that many things about the Triwizard Tournament were very appealing, he just wasn’t competitive; he would probably politely allow his competitors to pass him by. And he was so uncoordinated, still unused to his long, thin limbs. But he knew he’d enjoy watching the tournament, however, and rooting for whoever the Hogwarts champion was.

McGonagall continued on with several more announcements, but no one really listened to her. They all had an advanced case of tournament on the brain.

* * * * * *

After the feast, the friends sat in the Common Room relaxing, with the exception of Jordan, who had gone down to his Muggle Studies classroom. This was the only room in the school in which Muggle devices could operate, and he stored his laptop computer there. His teacher didn’t mind, so long as Jordan didn’t interrupt the other class periods.

In Gryffindor Tower, Ivy was poring over a book, Ted was drawing a cartoon strip that seemed to feature his father eating badly-behaved (and badly-drawn) students, and Emma was futilely trying to instruct Haley in the art of eyebrow-raising.

“I can’t do it!” exclaimed Haley, pacing up and down theatrically. “Why can’t I do it? How am I supposed to be dramatic and mysterious if I can’t raise one eyebrow?”

“I think you’ve got the ‘dramatic’ bit covered, actually,” pointed out Emma. Haley groaned and bopped her on the head with the cushion from the armchair in which she had been sitting.

Evidently, no one had removed the cushion for quite awhile, because the two girls were engulfed in a cloud of dust. As Haley reemerged, coughing, she noticed something. Where the cushion once was, lying on the frame of the chair, was a brown leather-bound book. “I thought that the chair felt kind of lumpy,” muttered Haley.

“Huh?” said Emma.

“Nothing,” replied Haley. She picked up the book and blew off some of the dust. “I’m going to go to bed a little early,” she announced, and made her way toward the girls’ dormitory as her friends bade her goodnight.

But he wasn’t planning on going to sleep just yet-- she had other things to do. Why would someone hide a book? She didn’t normally like to read, but she did like a good scandal.

She flipped the book over and saw, embossed in gold on the cover, the word ‘LEE.’ What kind of title was that, “Lee?” She opened it up to what should have been the title page, but all of the thick, creamy parchment inside was blank. “It’s not a book… it’s a diary…” she whispered to herself. Haley felt a curious urge to write upon the pages, which was odd, as she normally hated writing of any sort.

She dipped her favourite fluffy purple quill into her hot pink ink and wrote, “September 1, 2019. Hi, my name is Haley, I’m fifteen years old, AND I DON’T NEED A GOVERNESS, haha!” She sat back to survey the page, only to find that it was blank. “That’s weird,” she muttered to herself. “I know I wrote on that page.”

But as she scanned the page a second time, she saw something that startled her. Written in ruby-red ink, the words: “Hi, Haley.”

The diary wrote back! “Are you Lee?” wrote Haley, trembling with shock.

“You’ve got it,” replied the red ink.

Haley couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d heard horror stories-- true horror stories-- from her parents about a diary that talked back. And it hadn’t just been a diary. It had contained a fragment of the soul of Lord Voldemort.

“Are you a Horcrux?” she wrote cautiously.

“HALEY! Of course not! Now I’m insulted! Besides, aren’t Horcruxes a banned subject at Hogwarts? How come a fifteen-year-old like yourself knows about Horcruxes, anyway?” demanded Lee.

“My dad told me about them. He’s the Head Auror. How do YOU know about Horcruxes?”
“A boy in my class asked Professor Slughorn about them one time, and he got so mad at him for bringing them up. So then I had to find out. You’d be surprised what kind of information you can find out reading the graffiti on the cubicle walls in the bathroom. What can I say, I’m always getting into things I shouldn’t.”

“Was the boy in your class named Tom Riddle?”

“No, why?”

“Never mind. So, are you a Gryffindor?”

“Naturally! Where did you find this book, the Slytherin common room? Anyway, you’re the first person who’s ever written in this diary (other than me), so I’m guessing it hasn’t been moved. So, what’s up?”

“Well, there’s going to be a Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. I want to enter, but it’s not like I’m going to get picked or anything.”

“Triwizard? No way! I wish I could see it-- tell me all about it when it happens. Why do you think you won’t get picked?”

“I have a genius twin brother who’s brilliant at pretty much everything. I also have a sister who’s creepily perfect-- not that she’s creepy, you know what I mean-- and a cousin who’s the bravest person and best hexer that I’ve ever met. And I have this friend, Ted, who’s just all-around amazing. Between them all, one of them’s bound to get picked.”

“Well, what are you good at?” asked Lee.

Haley thought about it. There was no need to be modest, as she was talking to a diary. “A lot of things that wouldn’t be much use in the Triwizard Tournament. I’m really good at pulling pranks, and I can sing and dance. Also, I’m getting an O in Divination, and I’m not stupid. I’m just not great at school.”

“Pranks, huh? That’s pretty cool�”I’ve definitely known some great pranksters at Hogwarts. But listen, even if you don’t think you’ll be chosen, you should enter the tournament. Better to have tried and failed than not to have tried at all... Don’t tell me your mum’s never said that to you.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right. Except for this one time when I thought I was wrong. Anyway, do you know what a light bulb is?”

“Sure, my brother likes Muggle technology, and my Dad’s Muggle-raised.”

“Well, light bulbs were invented by some guy named Thomas Edison. And when someone asked him how he kept going even after he failed over two thousand times, he said, ‘I didn’t fail. I just learned two thousand ways not to make a light bulb.’”

Haley considered this statement… two thousand ways not to make a light bulb… she could apply that to everything in her life. “I didn’t fail Potions, Dad, I just learned two thousand ways not to write an essay!”

The doorknob on the dormitory door turned, and quickly, Haley stuffed Lee under the mattress. For some reason, she didn’t want anyone else to know about her diary, and she felt guilty about betraying her parent’s trust.

Ivy walked into the dormitory, lugging a huge stack of enormous books, and promptly collapsed onto her bed. “Sale at the library?” asked Haley with a sarcastic smile. Ivy rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“Yeah, everything was half-price! No, seriously, I just have loads of studying to do.” She opened one of the thick books, pulled out a scroll of parchment and a quill, and began to take notes.

“Why are you doing homework?” Haley asked curiously. “We haven’t had any classes yet!”

Ivy shook her head. “It’s not for school.”

Haley picked her brain for a possible topic her sister could be studying. “Amortentia’s illegal at Hogwarts,” she said, grinning mischievously. “You’ll have to think of some other way to win Ted’s heart.”

Her sister blushed. “It’s nothing to do with that!” she exclaimed. “I’m just trying to get ahead in Transfiguration, that’s all.”

Haley leaned back on her bed. “Whatever you say.”

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, the other Potter twin had just received an email from none other than Giorgi. A badly-punctuated email, at that.


To: sgtjpepper@magicwork.co.uk
From: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
Subj: Hi, Jordan!!
Message:

Helllloooo!! How was your first day of school? Are there a lot of Scottish people there? Do you have to wear a kilt for your uniform? If you did I’d laugh at you. Do they serve haggis for every meal? If they did, I’d vomit.

Sorry I’m so curious about your school, but I’ve never been to Scotland, and I have a bit of an obsession with it. My dad can never get a steady job. I lived in London until I was eight, then we moved to the U.S. and lived in New York City for four years, then we went to Germany for six months, then Australia for a year, then back to London for a few months, and, well, here I am in Godric’s Hollow! YAY!!!

Okay, so I was The New Kid when I came to school, but luckily, I made a bunch of friends. My maths teacher is EVIL though!!!!!! Like, pure evil. I came into first period, and he looked down his nose at me and made some snarky comment about my fashion sense.

Then, later, I got a question wrong�”one question, and it was seriously hard�”and I said in front of the whole class, “Miss Anderson, do you have any brains at all under that radioactive orange hair of yours?” I just wanted to wring his neck and scream, “WELL, LOOK WHO’S TALKING! YOU’RE NOT LOOKING SO HOT IN THAT HIDEOUS NECKTIE AND BAD COMB-OVER YOU’VE GOT!!!!!!”

Sorry again. I just HATE maths, in case you didn’t notice.

Did you see the football match on last night? It was SO CLOSE!!!!! Manchester United lost by like this much: _______ and that’s not very much at all, now is it?
Write back ASAP!!!!

Cheers,
Giorgi

P.S. Attached is a picture of you in a kilt.

P.P.S. I hope I won’t be ‘kilt’ by you for drawing that picture! Heheheheehe…

P.P.P.S. Sorry for all the P.S.-es!

Jordan shook his head. Giorgi was weird, no doubt about it. He typed up a reply:

To: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
From: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk
Subj: Re:Hi, Jordan!
Message:

Hello to you, too. My first day of school was fine, if largely uneventful�”we’re going to have a sort of contest with two other schools later this year. More on that later, but I know I’m going to enter.

Yes, here are some Scottish people here, Giorgi, no need to get all excited. Our Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, is Scottish herself. And, no, I don’t have to wear a kilt. I might add that I never have and never will. (Sorry to disappoint.)No, we don’t eat haggis, either.

Your maths teacher does sound atrocious; he reminds me of my chemistry teacher, Professor Zabini. He despises my friends and me because he didn’t like our parents when they were in school together, and last ear, he actually spilled a chemical on my lip, and it got horribly swollen.

I’m excellent at maths, and I could help you with your assignments if you want me to.

Actually, I didn’t see the football match. There aren’t any television sets at my school. I’ve been chosen the captain of my school’s football team, though. I really wanted to be a prefect, but instead, I’m team captain. Oh, well.

Write to you later,
Jordan.

He clicked the ‘send’ button. How many things would he have to fabricate in his emails to his Muggle pen friend? Already, he’d changed Zabini to the chemistry Professor, and Quidditch to football�”what was next? There was one good thing about writing to a Muggle, though�”she’d have never heard of Harry Potter. That meant that she didn’t have any expectations for Jordan, and he didn’t have to try to be anyone. To her, he was normal.

It was a new experience for Jordan. As much as he’d heard of normalcy, he’d never tried it himself before. Being normal was something he’d only dreamed about in the past.

* * * * * *

“Harry Potter! It’s nice to meet you at last!” grinned the handsome young man who had just barged into Harry’s office. “I’m Tancred Apple, head of the Department of Muggle Relations.” He shook Harry’s hand firmly.

Apple was very young�”he couldn’t be older than twenty-five�”and he had wavy, shoulder-length hair that was a glossy shade of chestnut brown. Thousands of women would have killed to meet Apple, and thousands of men would have killed to be him. He was extraordinarily good-looking, with piercing eyes, a strong chin and jaw accentuated by decorative stubble, and a million-dollar smile. All in all, he looked like he belonged in a Hollywood film, playing some lovesick hero, not a Ministry employee.

Harry had always found it rather comical that most people, upon being introduced to him, would exclaim, “Harry Potter!” as though he needed to be reminded of his own name. Apparently, just plain ‘Harry’ or ‘Mr. Potter’ didn’t do him justice.

Apple sat down in a chair in Harry’s office, although you couldn’t just call it ‘sitting’ when it was Apple performing the action. You had to call it ‘lounging’ or something like that, and then you’d have to throw in adverbs like ‘suavely’ or ‘urbanely.’ Probably less than two percent of the human population were capable of evoking an air of dignity and informality, power and humility, and confidence and humbleness just by sitting in a chair, but Tancred Apple possessed this rare talent.

“So, I understand you know the Minister personally?” asked Apple, his voice accentuated by a slight Irish lilt.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I’ve known him since I was eleven. He’s my brother-in-law, too.”

Apple looked impressed. “Wow, so, I gather you’ll be voting for him in the May election?”

The Auror inclined his head. “Can’t say until the election, can I? I have to hear the speeches and the platforms first.” This was of, course, a complete lie�”he knew he wouldn’t vote for Tancred Apple for Minister of Magic. The man had cottage cheese for brains. Harry wasn’t sure whether Apple had ever done anything since entering the Ministry besides smiling and signing autographs and kissing babies like some kind of political Gilderoy Lockhart.

Apple seemed to realize that he wouldn’t be able to convert this man despite Harry’s statement and changed tactics. “Well, Mr. Potter, since you’re the security advisor for the upcoming Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts, I wanted to ask you a favour. Could you figure out if I would be allowed to campaign at the school?”

“I really don’t know what to say about that,” Harry told him earnestly. “Naturally, only the sixth and seventh years will be eligible to vote in any case. But you’ll want to speak with Minerva McGonagall on that matter�”it’s her responsibility.”

“All right, I’ll do that,” Apple let him know affirmatively, and displayed his movie-star grin again. “Thanks for your help.” And with that, he strode from the office. Harry noticed then that he wasn’t wearing robes like most people�”he was dressed in a tailored pinstriped suit and a white shirt with several buttons undone, no tie, and what looked suspiciously like red Converse high-tops.

“What a pansy,” commented Ron as he walked past on his way back from the coffee machine.

“Must you always insult the plants?” tutted Harry.

“Well, his name is Apple,” Ron pointed out.

“True.”

The students at Hogwarts were all engaged in a heated debate over which made a more dramatic entrance�”the powder-blue coach pulled by several colossal palominos, or the ship that had burst from beneath the lake without warning. It was extremely obvious to everyone that Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had arrived.

The first person to climb from the Beauxbatons carriage was an elegant older woman who was quite easily the tallest and largest person that any of them had ever seen, excluding Grawp, the gamekeeper, who was, after all, a giant. This had to be Madame Maxime, the Headmistress. She wore her hair in a sleek coil, and she was dressed in black satin robes that signified that she was still in mourning for her departed fiancée, Rubeus Hagrid, who had been killed shortly before the final battle against Voldemort.

The second person to depart from the carriage was very familiar to the five friends, a girl with a long sheet flowing strawberry-blonde hair. “MARINA!” screeched Emma, running over toward her. The others followed suit. Marina Weasley, daughter of Bill and Fleur and a friend of theirs, hugged each of them in turn, with the exception of Jordan, who didn’t do hugs.

“I haven’t seen you all in SOOO long!” exclaimed Marina. “It’s been, what, two years, right? And wow, Ted, is that you? I almost didn’t recognize you! You’re so tall!”

“I think Madame Maxime’s still got a few inches on me,” joked Ted.

“Well, you’re looking great,” said Emma, holding her cousin at arms’ length. “For an ugly girl like you, that is.”

This was a joke, and they all knew it. Marina, who was in her sixth year, was stunningly pretty�”it helped that she was one-eighth veela. She had wide blue eyes and creamy ivory skin, and, like Tancred Apple, she looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, as opposed to a school lawn.

But the similarities between her and the soft-spoken Apple ended there. She could be rather volatile and emotional, but she was down-to-earth and outgoing as well. She and Emma in particular had always gotten along well before Marina and her parents had moved to France.

As the group caught up with Marina, the Durmstrang ship unloaded, and out climbed a neat line of students dressed far too warmly for October. Jordan, who didn’t much like socializing, slipped away from the group to observe.

The headmaster of Durmstrang was a dark-haired, heavily-bearded man who didn’t seem to possess the same commanding presence as most authority figures. Jordan had heard that Durmstrang had been a school for the Dark Arts until the Muggle-born Poliakoff had taken over as Headmaster, and he certainly looked like a nice person. He was just slightly pudgy, his eyes sparkled, and he was wearing with his rich furs a wristband that read “What Would John Lennon Do?” (of which Jordan, Beatles aficionado that he was, approved). He made his way over toward where Jordan’s father stood--Mr. Potter had arrived earlier that day-- and introduced himself.

“Dmitri Poliakoff,” he said warmly in a thick accent, gripping Jordan’s father’s hand in a vigorous handshake. He clapped a hand on the shoulder of an angular boy standing next to him. “And this is my son, Vladislav. He’s in his seventh year, so he should be free from me in just a few months.” Vladislav simply nodded seriously.

“Nice to meet you both,” Mr. Potter replied. “I can already tell that this tournament should be smoother than the last one… though that’s not saying much.”

Poliakoff’s eyes traveled across the landscape of Hogwarts, as though they were taking a tour without the rest of his body. They stopped, Jordan was unhappy to note, on his own face. “Ah, Potter, is that young man over there yours?”

“No,” said Jordan flatly. “I’m mine.”

Durmstrang’s headmaster laughed. “Reminds me of myself as a boy. Jordan, I’ve heard so much about you. I read about you and your friends in the newspaper last year, I hear you’re a talented musician and wizard, and to top it off, you’re the top of your class?”

Jordan looked at him blankly. “I’m just the Quidditch captain, sir,” he said, and edged away from his father and Poliakoff, who were now discussing the scoring system for the Tournament. He knew he had behaved badly, and he realized that this was what a fourteen-year-old Jordan would have done. But he had made a promise to himself to change the previous year, and he just couldn’t seem to live up to it. No wonder he hadn’t received the Prefect’s badge. He wasn’t even responsible enough to keep the promises he’d made to himself.

* * * * * *

A feast was held that night to welcome the foreign schools and to introduce the judges. These included the headmasters, as well as three representatives from the Ministry of Magic. These included Mr. Potter, and the heads of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

The Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was Cadmus Skitesby, a rather portly man with a florid, jowly face, grey hair, and large glasses; and the Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports was a tall, slim woman with long blonde hair, slightly too much eye makeup, and, strangely, a Muggle skirt and blouse that were unflatteringly old fashioned. Her name was Evadne Schiffington.

After the judges were introduced, Professor Lupin brought out a small plain box, which he opened to display a roughly-hewn wooden goblet. But the goblet blazed with bright blue flames, which danced back and forth without harming the wooden material of the goblet. Everyone stared in awe.

“The Goblet of Fire,” stated McGonagall solemnly.

“I wonder why they call it that,” Emma whispered sarcastically, and Haley giggled.

“Starting now, anyone�”age fifteen and above�”who wishes to may enter the tournament. Champions will be chosen in exactly 72 hours,” McGonagall said, and if she said anything further, it was made inaudible by the crowd of people that swarmed the Goblet. Ted, always observant, noticed that one of the Beauxbatons representatives, a girl with dark curly hair, remained seated, the only one not to enter the competition.

“Well, I’m entering,” announced Jordan, getting to his feet.

“Me, too,” said Emma.

“Me, three,” said Tyrone.

“Ditto,” chirped Haley.

She looked expectantly at Ivy and Ted, who were still sitting at the Gryffindor table. “I don’t really want to enter,” Ivy told her friends. “Good luck, though.”

“If any of you gets chosen, we’ll be rooting for you,” Ted added with a smile.

The other four exchanged glances then made their way up to the Goblet. It was strangely intimidating to be standing near it, knowing that they each had a chance�”however small�”to be contestants in the most legendary magical competition of all time. “Let’s put all of ours in at the same time!” Haley instructed suddenly, grabbing Tyrone’s arm as he started to reach toward the Goblet. For some reason, this sounded right to the others, and they agreed. “1…2…3,” counted Jordan, and with that, they all released their slips of paper.

They watched their names tumble into the fire and disappear from sight as they were swallowed by the flames.

“Jordan James Potter”

“Tyrone Vincent Thomas”

“Harriet-Lily Potter”

“Emma Elizabeth Weasley”

“I hope this isn’t a bad omen,” thought Jordan as he watched the fire consume his name.

“Well, that’s that,” said Tyrone. “I guess we’ll have to wait a few days for any results… Merlin’s thong, I’m so nervous…”

Everyone began to file out of the Great Hall, but as Ted was about to leave, Professor McGonagall stopped him. “Mr. Lupin, could you please stay for a few minutes?” she asked. “We have something we wish to discuss with you.”

“All right,” shrugged Ted, feeling just slightly anxious. He didn’t know what this was leading to, and as far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything. Maybe he was in trouble for scaring those little first years back on the first day of school, though he couldn’t imagine why now. As he turned back toward the Great Hall, he saw that it was totally empty, except for himself, McGonagall, and a Beauxbatons girl.

“Mr. Lupin, meet Arden DuBois. Miss DuBois, meet Theodore Lupin,” McGonagall introduced them. Ted shook the Beauxbatons girl’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said pleasantly. She didn’t return the greeting.

Arden was as small as Haley and bony-looking, with curly dark-brown hair that fell to her shoulders. She looked exhausted and ill, dark circles ringing her deep blue eyes, and her colourless cheeks were hollow. Around her neck, she wore a thick black ribbon with a blue jewel set in the front. Her fingernails, Ted noticed, were nibbled to tiny stubs. She was the one Beauxbatons girl who hadn’t entered the competition.

“Miss DuBois will need to share the Shrieking Shack with you during Transformations, if you have no objections,” McGonagall informed him matter-of-factly, Arden looking exceedingly embarrassed behind her.

So she was another werewolf? Ted had never met one his age before, and was very interested to hear about her experiences. However, she didn’t seem particularly willing to chat at the moment… of course, he’d have all of the full moons during the year for conversation, he realized.

“Oh, that’s fine with me,” Ted assured McGonagall. “It’s not like I own the shack or anything.”

McGonagall gave him a rare smile. “Thank you. Now, I’ll have to ask you not to tell any of your friends about this, as you’re the only person outside the staff who knows about Miss DuBois’s condition, and she would prefer that it stays that way.”

“Okay,” Ted agreed. So no one from Arden’s school knew that she was a werewolf… he knew that that was how it had been with his father when he had been in school, but at least Remus’s three best friends had known his secret, and they supported and accompanied him during transformations. He couldn’t imagine being in Arden’s place, keeping the secret from everyone, even his friends.

“Well, thank you Mr. Lupin,” McGonagall said. “You may leave now.”

“Goodnight,” Ted called, and proceeded up toward the Gryffindor Common Room. He realized then that he still hadn’t heard Arden say a single word. She was foreign, maybe she didn’t speak any English.

When he arrived in the Common Room, Haley exclaimed, “TEDWARD!”

The boy blinked. “Because that was normal,” he said.

“You’re lucky,” Tyrone told him. “I think Haley’s going through a phase. When I came in, she called me ‘Tyroonie.’ Not that it’s the first nickname I’ve been called by a girl�””

Emma quickly changed the subject from the pet names that Tyrone’s ex-girlfriends had called him (including, but not limited to ‘Twinkie Lips’ and ‘Sugar Muffins’). “So, what was keeping you, Tedward?” she asked.

Ted sat down in an armchair. “Well, uh, Madame Patil’s doing some kind of project on The Effects of Adolescence On Lycanthropy or something, which basically means she needs to watch a teenage werewolf transform. Anyway, I guess that means she’s going to be over in the Shrieking Shack whenever I am, so you lot can’t come and hang out with me then anymore.” He looked over at Ivy, who was usually the only one who came for his transformations now that he had gotten used to them. She was holding a stack of very thick books and looked rather tired, but when Ted’s eyes met hers, she smiled, if rather weakly.

“I hope you don’t mind being used as a lab rat,” she sighed. “Madame Patil didn’t exactly ask your permission, did she?”

“It’s okay with me. I’ll miss the company, though,” Ted replied.

He felt terrible lying to his friends, and guilt surged unpleasantly through his body. He was normally very honest, and only told small lies, like claiming he was fine when he was really feeling less than such, or insisting to his Metamorphmagus mother that her newest crazy hairstyle looked great when he actually thought it was rather stupid. True, McGonagall had told him that he wasn’t allowed to tell his friends the truth about transformations, and he had both her trust and Arden’s.

He would miss Ivy, though. They had some really interesting conversations in the wait before his transformations, about everything from the definitions of good and evil to rock music to strange dreams to theories on how Voldemort had been defeated to strange things that people did. Ivy, a shy girl normally, really opened up and was free to be herself when they were in the Shrieking Shack, away from everyone else.

“Oh, well,” thought Ted. “She’s probably really busy reading all of those books. She probably wouldn’t have had time anyway.”

* * * * * *

Three days later, all of Hogwarts�”as well as the students representing Beauxbatons and Durmstrang�”was gathered for the selection of the Triwizard champions. Nobody was talking much, as they were all incredibly nervous/anxious/excited/in the bathroom vomiting due to an anxiety/a combination of the above.

An extremely major exception to this rule was Haley, whose nervousness was causing her to talk even more than usual, and so rapidly and unintelligibly that even patient Ted, always a good listener, was getting a bit irked. She mentioned someone named ‘Lee’ at least twice, which nobody else understood. They didn’t know anybody named Lee, although Jordan vaguely recalled his father mentioning a man named Lee Jordan who had been killed by Death Eaters before Voldemort’s downfall. Jordan remembered this man’s name only because his surname was the same as Jordan’s first.

Finally, McGonagall mounted the podium and made a mercifully short speech before the names of the champions were to be announced. Suddenly and without warning, the flame in the Goblet, previously an icy blue, blazed red. The students gathered in the Great Hall collectively drew their breath as a bit of singed paper flew from the Goblet in a shower of sparks.

McGonagall caught it deftly and spoke, “The Beauxbatons Champion will be Miss Marina Ghislaine Weasley!” The Great Hall erupted into thunderous applause, especially from Marina’s fellow Beauxbatons students, her five friends at Hogwarts, and many of the boys, who were obviously impressed by her beauty. Marina beamed as she walked onto the stage, not even betraying the slightest hint of nervousness.

“I knew it would be her!” exclaimed Emma. “It’s so cool that she’s a champion! Hope she does better than her mum did!”

Ted cast a glance over toward the Beauxbatons table. The other students seemed disappointed and upset not to have been chosen, despite their enthusiastic reception of Marina�”with the exception of Arden, sitting on her own at the far end of the table and looking rather uninterested in the whole affair.

Just as the applause began to die down, the flames leaped higher and turned crimson again, spitting out another slip of parchment. “The Durmstrang Champion,” McGonagall announced, “Is Vladislav Dmitrovich Poliakoff!”

“That’s the Headmaster’s son,” whispered Jordan as Vladislav got up stiffly and walked toward the stage. He received vastly less applause than Marina, especially little from his own school, where he was clearly unpopular. It was rather embarrassing, and Ivy and Ted clapped especially loudly in sympathy. Vladislav, who was tall and sharp-featured with neat dark hair and a serious-looking, angular face, stood stiffly on the platform, completely eclipsed by the radiant girl standing next to him.

Then, the Goblet filled with red flames once more, and Jordan felt a cold pit develop somewhere around his stomach or his Adam’s apple, possibly both at once. He turned as white as a sheet, while Emma unconsciously gnawed a quill (not of the sugar variety), Tyrone stroked his downy upper lip anxiously, and Haley shivered with anticipation.

A slip of parchment flew from the Goblet, and even McGonagall seemed almost flustered with excitement as she turned it over to read the name scrawled on the front. “The Hogwarts Champion…”�”the friends nearly fell out of their seats�”“Is… Emma Elizabeth Weasley.”

The screams and applause from the Gryffindor table were deafening as Emma was engulfed by a crowd of her fellow students. “EMMA! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! THIS IS SO AWESOME!” screeched Haley, hollering in her friend’s ear as she jumped up and down, hugging her.

“Well done!” roared Tyrone, thumping Emma’s back. “You’re going to win this, I know it!”
“Hogwarts champion!” exclaimed Ivy, her pale face flushed with excitement. “You’re the youngest one in the contest, too!”

Ted grinned and gave the new Hogwarts champion a vigorous high-five. “You’re going to blow everyone away!” he told her. “We all know how scary you can get when you’re determined.”

Emma extricated herself from the tangle of people and walked up the aisle toward the stage, beaming. Her heart was racing madly and she felt as though everything was moving in slow motion. This had to be a dream… it couldn’t possibly be real… She, Emma Weasley, was the Hogwarts Champion! She was in the Triwizard Tournament!

When she reached the stage, she did something extremely unexpected. Passing by the staff table, she embraced her mother, the usually reserved Professor Granger-Weasley, in front of the whole school.

“Emma… you’ve always been an incredible girl,” whispered her mother, her eyes shining. “You never, ever cease to amaze me. I am so proud of you! Wait until your father hears about this!”

Emma took her place on the stage, staring out at the sea of faces around her. She strained her eyes and saw Haley, still bouncing up and down�”easy to spot in any crowd�”and the light from the enchanted ceiling reflecting off Tyrone’s ridiculously shiny white teeth as he grinned at her. Peering around in that general vicinity, she saw a rope of long blonde hair�”Ivy, she thought�”just visible from behind quite a tall person, who had to be Ted. She couldn’t quite make out Jordan, though she knew he was sitting behind Ivy, just out of sight.

Her friends were the best anyone could hope for, she loved her parents, and she was quite sure that she was one of the luckier girls alive. It was a sappy thought, and Emma Weasley was a strictly sap-free person�”but she was too happy to care.

* * * * * *

Jordan’s mind was blank and his body was completely frozen. He was too shocked to move, speak, or think anything but one thought�”Emma was the Hogwarts champion. Emma. He’d been almost positive that if the champion was someone he knew, it would be him… hearing Emma’s name was like a bad dream.

He had no chance of winning now… or of ever competing, as he’d have graduated long before the next one rolled around. And he’d been so sure that it would be he who was applauded and congratulated as he strode proudly toward the platform. Funny, he seemed to have an over-inflated ideal of his eligibility for so many things. He’d had the same misguided belief about prefect badges; he’d thought that he was special, talented, different from ‘everyone else’…

“What I really am,” said a suspiciously Giorgi-like voice in the back of his head, “Is an arrogant, self-absorbed prat.”

He tried to be happy for Emma, who was after all his cousin and a close friend, but he couldn’t quite manage it. I’m too much of an arrogant, self-absorbed prat to be anything but a sore loser, he thought before slinking up the stairs, away from the crowd.

The first thing he did, simply by habit, was to check his inbox in the Muggle Studies classroom. Sure enough, there was a letter from Giorgi.

To: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk
Room: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
Subj: Poor thing!
Message:

WHAT?!?! YOU’VE GOT NO T.V.S IN YOUR SCHOOL?!?!?!? You poor, poor thing!!!! How do you SURVIVE?!?!?!

Congrats on being captain, I wish I was. Ours is horrible, not as bad as my maths teacher (or your chemistry teacher), but then, the same could be said for Jack the Ripper. In any case, our football captain keeps making us do CRUNCHES!!!! Like, a zillion of them, without a break. It’s INSANNNE!!

Thanks for the offer on maths tutoring, but you’d probably just confuse me more, Mr. Smarty-pants.

Please, tell me about the contest!!! School is SO. BORING. It’s basically the same everywhere I go, except with different accents. No Scottish ones so far, though. My friends Perri, Sheila, Greg, and I rigged the PA today with a machine that made the headmaster’s voice sound like Daffy Duck. We didn’t get caught!!!

Write ya later,
Giorgi.

P.S. What do you mean? What’s wrong with my punctuation?!


Jordan pushed the reply key and typed very quickly, punching the keys almost violently.

To: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
From: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk
Subj: Re: You poor thing!
Message:

Hello, Giorgi.

I don’t really mind so much about not having a TV�”after all, I have my laptop computer, and I can do practically anything I want with it. It’s definitely my favourite invention ever, and possibly my best friend. It must be awful to have a sadist for a football captain… although I can’t say I won’t be equally brutal.

I’m writing to apologize for being such an arrogant, self-absorbed prat, bragging about how I’m good at maths when it’s not your strongest subject. After all, you’re not bragging to me about making so many friends so quickly (I could never do that), or about rigging the PA, an insanely brave (and ridiculously foolish) thing that I would never accomplish in my wildest dreams.

About the contest, my cousin Emma is going to represent our school. I wasn’t picked. I have to admit, I feel horrible about not qualifying (see previous note about my being an arrogant, self-absorbed prat.) My father went to my school when he was my age, and he’s a bit of a legend around the school now. He was football captain AND won this same contest.

In any case, when people meet me, they always say, “You must be Harry Potter’s son.” I’ve always wanted to do something that actually makes me stand out… which I’ll never accomplish sitting here writing an email.

Sorry about the whining,
Jordan

P.S. What isn’t wrong with your punctuation?

Jordan sighed as he hit the ‘send’ button. He didn’t know why he had just said everything that was on his mind to Giorgi�”he never told anyone how he felt. He shielded himself with Occlumency at all times, and was as elusive as possible when it came to emotions. Maybe it was because she only knew him and not his father, unlike everyone else he knew. He could get a fair, unbiased response from her.

He felt slightly jealous of the bold girl who dressed anyway she wanted, despite being teased by her teachers, the girl who had changed her Headmaster’s voice to that of a cartoon duck that Jordan had never heard of, the girl who had apparently made several friends, while the only friend that Jordan had ever made for himself without everyone introducing them was… Giorgi herself.

“She’s a better Gryffindor than I am,” he thought. “And she’s a Muggle!”

* * * * * *

“Hi, Lee. Guess what? EMMA’S THE HOGWARTS CHAMPION IN THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!” wrote Haley. “So’s my other cousin, Marina.”

“Good for them, then! Only fifteen years old, huh? But too bad you weren’t picked.”

“Well, I felt a bit bad for about a second, but it wasn’t like I had much of a chance anyway. Besides, I always thought it might be Emma, anyway, so I’m not jealous. She’ll do an awesome job. So long as it’s not Jordan, I’m cool with it.”

“You know, that’s really amazing, Haley. Not many people are that good friends… I mean, even the nicest of people are usually more selfish than that.”

This was one of the best compliments that Haley had ever gotten. She was still smiling when Emma burst into the dormitory, wrapped in a Hogwarts flag and looking happily dazed. At this, Haley’s smile widened. “Yes, EMMMMMM-A’s the CHAMMMP-ION, my FRIEEE-ENDS!” she sang loudly.

Emma sort of dove onto her bed. “I can’t believe this, Haley!” she exclaimed in a squeal that was usually only adopted by Haley herself. “I’m so excited.”

Haley looked over at her brave best friend and saw that her dark brown eyes were shining with something that wasn’t makeup. “Emma…” she said, “Are those tears in your eyes?”

“Shut up,” replied Emma. “I’ve exerted myself a lot today, and my eyeballs are merely perspiring.”

Emma was treated like a star everywhere she went�”an eager Hufflepuff second year wanted her to sign his Potions homework (which Emma did, mainly to irk Professor Zabini, who had lately been making rather pointed references toward the renowned advanced potion-making skills of Vladislav Poliakoff, who was apparently something of a genius.) In fact, Emma wrote a little message to go along with her signature.

The little Hufflepuff boy read it to himself. “Professor Zabini should…” he read, then his voice trailed off and his eyes widened. He mouthed the next several words before finishing, “…and a potato?”

“You’re welcome!” chirped Emma as her friends--except for Ivy, who was still in the Common Room and said she’d come down soon--chuckled and followed her to breakfast.

When they reached the Great Hall, however, something was blocking their way. Or rather, someone. Charybdis Nott had a thin, fine-featured face, a sour expression, and stick-straight light brown hair that swooshed behind her as she turned to face the friends. “If it isn’t our little Hogwarts champion!” she exclaimed in a voice as sweet as vinegar.

“I’m hardly ‘little’�”I’m half a head taller than you are,” Emma stated in a Jordan-esque, flat, bored voice. “I’m also a master of the Bat-Bogey hex, so I strongly suggest you move.”

“Yeah, right.” Charybdis snorted like an ill hippopotamus.

“Whoa, Nott, you might want to get your sinuses checked out,” Tyrone pointed out. “That sounded pretty bad. It could be deadly.”

“You wish,” sneered Charybdis.

“Oddly enough, yes,” snapped Jordan.

Charybdis toyed with a long strand of hair. “You know what would be funny?” she asked rhetorically. “If your wand just so happened to snap today, before the tournament.”

“You know what would be even funnier?” retorted Emma. “Watching you get expelled after trying to mess with my wand.”

The Slytherin Prefect laughed. “You? Get me expelled? You’re the daughter of a Mudblood and a blood traitor.”

“Who happen to be two of the best magicians alive,” Haley chipped in loyally.

At that moment, a boy with shoulder-length blond and wire-framed glasses strode over; Ted recognized him as the other Slytherin Prefect. “Charybdis, leave them alone already,” he said, rolling his eyes. Taking care to mutter something rude under her breath (it was clear that the two prefects were not friends), Charybdis skulked back to her table. “Sorry about her,” apologized the blond boy, jerking his head in her direction. “She can be a complete idiot, even by Slytherin standards. Good luck.” He smiled wryly and returned to his table.

Haley stared at his retreating form. “Is it just me,” she breathed, “or was that Slytherin just… nice to us?”

“I think we’re delirious from hunger,” said Ted. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

This advice seemed sound to everyone else, so they tucked into their food. Ted’s owl, Zsa-Zsa, famous for always delivering the mail before any other owls in the school, dropped off a copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Emma! You’re on the front cover!” gasped Haley. She passed down the paper. “And Marina and Vladi-whatsit, of course.”

The article was accompanied by a large photograph of the three champions. Vladislav (Haley couldn’t help but wonder if he was born without a sense of humour) nodded at the camera seriously, Marina’s hair was blown by a slight breeze as she smiled at the camera, and Emma grinned mischievously and gave Vladislav bunny ears. The accompanying text read:


“TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 2019-2020

Hogwarts School For Witchcraft and Wizardry will again be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, the first in twenty-five years. And who are the three young champions representing this year’s Tournament?

Vladislav Dmitrovich Poliakoff, the champion from Durmstrang Magical Institute, is seventeen years old, tall, and dark-haired with intense eyes. The son of the Headmaster of Durmstrang, he became the youngest ever champion of the International Wizards’ Chess Tournament at age eleven and holds the title for Most Consecutive Wins, as he has won every year since his first tournament.

He is also a talented potion-maker and speaks seven languages fluently. “I’m glad to be a participant in the Triwizard Tournament,” he told the Prophet in his faintly accented English. “It should prove to be an interesting challenge.”

The champion from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Marina Weasley, agrees with his statement�”“I’m going to do my best in the tournament and give one hundred percent. I really want to win this, but even if I don’t, at least I will have tried.”

Sixteen years old and stunningly pretty with long strawberry-blonde hair and a one-eighth veela heritage, Marina’s baggy camouflage trousers contrast with her delicate porcelain-doll features. But she’s more than just a pretty face, as proven by her twelve O.I.S.E.A.U.’s (The Beauxbatons version of O.W.L.’s) and determined spirit. Although she is native-born French and has a French mother, she lived in England for eight years, and her father is British.

He’s also the brother of Hogwarts champion Emma Weasley’s father, making the two girls first cousins. Emma, the youngest champion at age fifteen, is nevertheless mature and sophisticated-looking, with wavy auburn hair and dark eyes. She told Prophet Reporter Mac Celeste, “I’m going to admit that I’m really competitive, and, according to my friend Ted, scary sometimes, so I’m so excited about being in the Triwizard Tournament.”

You may recall reading about Emma in the Prophet last year, as she was one of The Five who helped to defeat Dark Master Draco Malfoy, and received the extremely prestigious Albus Dumbledore Award. She’s also a talented Quidditch player.

The first Triwizard challenge will be held on October 20th, and the champions have been told nothing about what the task will entail. It’s open to all audiences.”


Emma was suddenly struck by the reality of the Triwizard Tournament�”it wasn’t just a game. It was going to be difficult, and possibly even frightening, and she was going to compete in it. But that wasn’t what unnerved her. What did it was the fact that she was going to really have to try at this.

Emma had never had to work too hard before in any subject�”she was talented at magic and reasonably clever. She’d never had to try to make friends or work to improve her flying, because she was satisfied with both. But for the first time in her life, she was competing against two very worthy opponents who were older and more experienced than she was.
She wasn’t the smartest or the strongest… or even the prettiest, and although appearances normally weren’t important to her, she was used to being regarded as the prettiest girl in the school. But in the Triwizard article, she had merely been described as ‘mature and sophisticated-looking,’ while Marina was described as ‘stunningly pretty.’

“I’ll just have to be the one who tries the hardest, then,” she promised herself resolutely.

“Hey, I read the paper,” said a voice that, although small and quiet, was as dangerously sharp as a mosquito’s buzz. Emma didn’t even have to turn around to see that it was Charybdis Nott. “So, uh, I saw it said in the Prophet that you can be scary sometimes. I’ll agree with that�”if it’s supposed to mean your face.”

“That wasn’t even funny,” Tyrone told her loftily manner. “And plus, an insult’s got to be true to be offensive.”

“Like you’ve ever said anything original in your life, Thomas,” smirked the Slytherin girl. “You have fan girls to think for you. You don’t have any room in your brain to do anything but flirt.”

“Hey, only I’m allowed to say that about him,” growled Emma, standing up.

“Look, we don’t really care what you have to say,” Haley exclaimed, easing her cousin back into her seat. “And I think it’s kind of pathetic that you don’t have anything better to do than stand around insulting us.”

“Oh, it’s so cute to see you trying to keep up with the big kids,” Charybdis said in her dangerously soft voice. “You’re how old now, ten?”

“She’s fifteen, as you very well know,” Jordan snapped. He didn’t normally defend his sister, except for under dire circumstances, but this counted. “Same as you�”I think she’s a few months older, as a matter of fact.”

“Could have fooled me,” replied Charybdis. “Oh, by the way, Potter, I’ve been dying to know since the beginning of the year�”if you’re so smart, if you’re so talented, why did they pick that werewolf over you for prefect, huh? It’s sad when the most eligible candidate for prefect isn’t even a human, isn’t it?”

“Don’t listen to her,” that werewolf told his friends. “She’s just jealous.”

They knew that, but it didn’t make it any less offensive. Charybdis Nott had an uncanny knack for picking out people’s insecurities and prodding them in just the most painful spots. And she was in a particularly horrible mood lately�”she’d obviously wanted to be the Hogwarts champion.

When they arrived in the Gryffindor Common Room, Ivy’s friends saw her sitting in an armchair, still diligently taking notes. “Ivy,” Ted said softly, and she looked up. “You never came to breakfast. I brought you some food.” He handed her a plate of food that he had filched from the Great Hall earlier.

Ivy smiled. “Thanks, Ted. That’s really nice of you.” She yawned widely.

“You need to relax more,” Haley instructed her. “Just take it easy for a few days. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m fine!” Ivy assured her, though she didn’t exactly look it.

* * * * * *

An instant message popped up on Jordan’s computer.

rainbowbrite04: Sorry that you didn’t get to be in the contest, but is your dad’s name really HARRY POTTER?!?! That’s awesome!!!!

sgtjpepper: Yeah, so what?

rainbowbrite04: Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Harry Potter books and movies?!?!?!? They were really, really popular like 10 or 20 years ago. Bigger than the Beatles were.

sgtjpepper: Nothing beats the Beatles, no matter what you may say to the contrary. So, what were the Harry Potter books about?

rainbowbrite04: They’re really cool!!! They’re about a boy who can do magic, and he fights a really evil bloke with no nose named Lord Voldemort with his friends Ron and Hermione and he goes to an awesome wizard school called Hogwarts.

sgtjpepper: Stop with the exclamation marks; you’re giving me a migraine. But about the Harry Potter books�”you’ve got to be kidding.

rainbowbrite04: No, I’m not giving up exclamation marks just for you!!!!!! Anyway they’re better than they sound. Trust me.

sgtjpepper: It’s not that… I’ve got to go now. Bye.

rainbowbrite04: TTYL.

Sgtjpepper: What. Did. I. Tell. You. About. Chatspeak?

Jordan’s feet carried him out of the room without asking his permission, and before he knew it, he had reached the school doors. He found his father just as he was leaving the school to return to the Auror office. “DAD!” he shouted.

Mr. Potter turned around, startled. “Yes?”

“Dad… listen,” panted Jordan. “I was talking to my pen friend, Giorgi�”she’s that Muggle girl who lives next door to us�”and she told me that she’s read a series of books about a wizard named Harry Potter who goes to a school called Hogwarts, had friends named Ron and Hermione, and fights an evil wizard named Lord Voldemort. Don’t you think that’s even a tad coincidental?”

To his surprise, his father smiled. “Oh, yeah, those books. About ten or twenty years ago, I swear every kid in the world�”Muggle or wizard�”had them. I’ve read them myself, and they’re actually really accurate. I was surprised.”

“But Dad!” Jordan exclaimed. “Isn’t that dangerous, letting Muggles know about magic?”

Mr. Potter shook his head. “Actually, no. The books are sold as fantasy. It actually makes Muggles less likely to believe someone who’s waving a wand and calling himself a wizard.”

Jordan blinked. “Like those lunatics who go about speaking Elvish?”

“Exactly,” replied Mr. Potter, and he turned to leave. But before he was gone, he turned around again. “Jordan?”

“Yes?”

“Promise me one thing,” he asked his son seriously. “If you ever see a Harry Potter action figure in a shop… please don’t make a bonfire and invite all your friends for a ritual burning.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jordan responded stiffly, though he was betrayed by the smile on his face.

* * * * * *

“It’s so cute to see you trying to keep up with the big kids. You’re how old now, ten?”

The words echoed around inside Haley’s head even that night. She slumped dejectedly in her favourite magenta armchair. Why did everything Charybdis Nott say have to be so mean and hurtful… and true…

Haley got up and walked over to the mirror on the other side of the room to see the same person she’d seen reflected back at her for as long as she could remember. She was quite small, with a childish-looking freckled face framed by the same bouncy, shoulder-length hairdo she’d worn for years, flipping up neatly at the ends. She was skinny�”not like a model or a movie star, but like a little girl.

I look like a wooden plank with arms and legs, she thought to herself with a sigh. She really didn’t look fifteen�”more like twelve, and people said she acted even younger. She paced back over to her magenta armchair and sat down.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ted asked.

“I don’t know,” sighed Haley. “It’s just… well, I’m shorter than all of my friends and all…”

Ted smiled sympathetically. “Me, too.”

Haley blinked. “Um, Teddy, dear, it’s simple math. You six-foot-two. Me five-foot-one-point-three.”

Ted’s smile widened. “No, I mean, I’m shorter than all of my friends put together! Like, if you stacked all of my friends on top of each other, the stack would be taller than me… oh, and by the way, er, I think I’m actually six-feet, three-and-a-half-inches now. Not like it matters or anything.”

“Stacked on top of each other?” Haley dissolved into giggles. “You,” she proclaimed, “Have the strangest sense of humour of anyone I’ve ever known.”

It was at that moment that Emma raced into the room, hollered, “I’M AN OSTRICH!” and catapulted onto the sofa.

Ted raised his eyebrows. “Interesting timing there.”

Emma laughed. “Ostriches are flightless birds. I just got temporarily suspended from the Quidditch team. I mean, it’s not like I did anything wrong, I just asked to be taken off the team for the year ‘cos I’m going to be so busy with the Tournament.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jordan is the weirdest captain we’ve ever had, which is saying a lot. Today he made us do fifty crunches. Like we even use our abs flying! Anyway, Tyrone went, ‘Crunch-a-tize me, Cap’n!’ which I personally thought was funny, but guess what? Jordan made him do ten push-ups! That boy’s got issues.” She shook her head. “Well, I’m off to the Great Hall for some press conference-y wand weighing thingy with the other champions, but I just thought I’d drop by. See ya.” And as quickly as she had entered the scene, she exited again.

Ted turned to Haley once Emma had left. “Listen, Haley, we all like you! And it’s not fun bumping your head every time you get off the Hogwarts Express, anyway… I really don’t know why you wish you were taller. And ou don’t act like a ten-year-old, either. Just ignore Charybdis Nott.”

Haley tried to smile. “Thanks,” she said, but she knew that Ted was so nice, he’d have told her she same even if she annoyed him so much that he couldn’t stand to be in a room with her. So she decided to have a chat with Lee, who was always honest.

“Hi, Lee,” she wrote. “People think I’m ten, and I look like a two-by-four.”

“I hate it when that happens.”

“No, I’m serious! I look like a little kid, and I guess I act like one, too! I can’t help it! Ted says nobody minds, but I don’t totally believe him.”

“Listen, don’t go around trying to act grown-up. You’ll just come off looking stupid, and besides, you’ll regret it when you’re an adult who wants to act like a kid again and can’t. I’ll agree with Ted there. He seems like he’s got his priorities straight.”

“I just want to be taken a bit more seriously. I mean, I am almost sixteen.”

“Well…” Lee hesitated. “I guess you could just lay off some of the sweets that make you hyper, try not to call people ‘Tyroonie’ and ‘Tedward,’ and… maybe work a little harder in school? I could help you with your homework�”not like I have anything better to do, being a book and all--but you have to promise you’ll study. There’s no way I’m doing it for you.”

“Done,” agreed Haley.

She could do that. She gathered her books and headed to the dormitory, plopping onto her bed. “Hi, Ivy,” she greeted her sister. “I guess we’ll both be hitting the books tonight.”

* * * * * *

That night was the first full moon that Ted would spend with Arden. The autumn air was crisp and cool beneath an inky sky as Ted made his way toward the Whomping Willow. He was dressed in a vastly oversized t-shirt and very baggy sweatpants that wouldn’t tear too much during his transformation�”he didn’t exactly like the idea of lying on the floor naked when Madame Patil came to get him in the morning--and he carried a sketch pad so he could draw cartoons in case Arden wasn’t up for conversation.

He pressed the knothole on the Whomping Willow, crept down through the tunnel, and into the Shack, as he had so many times before. But there was one difference from his usual routine.

Arden was sitting, straight-backed and stiff-looking, on one of the beds, eyes downcast. She was dressed similarly to Ted, and it seemed odd to see her dressed in something other than her elegant blue silk Beauxbatons robes.

“Er… hi,” Ted greeted her. She didn’t reply, but Ted wasn’t unnerved by this. He simply said, “You know, this is my tenth transformation. I should have brought, like, party blowers or something. I was bitten last Christmas Eve… which means that I got to spend Christmas Day in the hospital, and that was oodles of fun.”

Arden, still not looking up from her hands, whispered, “I was five years old when I was bitten. My uncle, he is a werewolf, and he forgot to take his potion. And… he got out of the shed where he was staying for the night and… he bit me.” Her voice was low, soft, and heavily French-accented.

“My Dad’s a werewolf, too,” Ted stated. “When people hear that I’m one, too, they think he bit me, but he didn’t. It’s kind of a long story.” So Arden had been a werewolf for most of her life? Ted was rather surprised that she still hadn’t seemed to adjust to the fact after so many years�”but, then, neither had his father, and he’d been bitten fifty-some years earlier.

“You… you tell other people that you are… that you are…” Arden’s quiet voice trailed off.

“Yeah, the whole school knows I’m a werewolf,” shrugged Ted. “I wouldn’t want to, you know, keep secrets or anything. Everyone’s really nice about it… for the most part,” he amended, thinking of Charybdis Nott. “So, your friends don’t know about your furry little problem, as we call it in my family?”

“I do not really…have friends,” Arden replied softly. “I… I am always too afraid to talk to people.”

“You’re talking to me,” Ted said encouragingly. “And nothing bad’s happened. And please don’t say that I’m a werewolf, not a person�”I mean, I got used to being a person for the first fourteen years of my life, and I don’t think I’m going to let one little bite change that. I don’t want to sound like I’m preaching to you, but it’s true.” He swept his bangs off his forehead to reveal a gory mass of scars on his right temple. It wasn’t exactly a ‘little’ bite.

Arden very hesitantly unfastened the black, jewel-set ribbon that she always wore around her neck to reveal a long, thin scar much less repugnant than Ted’s own.

“You don’t need to be shy,” Ted told her bluntly. “You’ve got nothing to hide. I know you’re a werewolf, and you know I’m one, too. You don’t scare me, and you definitely don’t disgust me. We’re going to be spending every full moon in here, after all, so we should probably get used to each other, and I just want to be friends.”

Slowly, Arden turned to look at him and smiled. The smile totally altered her sad, bony features�”it lit up her navy-blue eyes and brought life to her forlorn face. “Thank you,” she whispered, then noticed the sketch pad that Ted was holding. “What is that?”

“It’s my sketchbook,” explained Ted. “I draw cartoons. I kind of stink at it, but hey, it’s fun.”

“May I draw?” asked Arden, and Ted handed her the sketch pad and pencil. He normally wrote with a quill, but when it came to drawing, nothing beat a soft number two lead pencil. Even after a few quick sketchy lines, it became very apparent to Ted that Arden was far more talented than he at drawing, or anyone he knew, for that matter. She expertly shaded and sketched a face, strong-featured but wasted and worn, partially covered by floppy, shaggy hair. The face was not especially handsome, but, even as a drawing, contained so much warmth that you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. It was an eerily realistic and extremely familiar likeness.

“Is that me?” asked Ted, awed, and Arden nodded. “That’s fantastic!” he exclaimed. “Okay, you’ve officially made me jealous.” Arden quickly captioned the drawing, ‘Theodore Lupin.’ “No one calls me ‘Theodore,’” Ted told her quickly. “I’ve been ‘Ted,’ since forever.”

Arden wrinkled her nose. “I do not think you look like a ‘Ted.’ May I call you Theo?”

This was certainly a new one. “Theo?” repeated Ted, testing out the name. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it certainly beat Tedward. “All right,” he replied. “Theo it is.”

Arden smiled again, then realized something. “You say that your friends call you ‘Ted’�”are you the Ted that Emma Weasley mentioned in the newspaper?” she asked.

Ted nodded. “She’s a friend of mine. So many of my friends entered the tournament; I feel bad for the ones who didn’t get picked. I didn’t enter, though. I’m probably the least competitive person on earth, and I’m way too much of a klutz.”

“I wanted to enter,” Arden said softly. “But… I was too afraid. I�””

She suddenly went rigid. Ted had gone through transformation many times, but he’d never seen another werewolf transform, not even his father. Now he knew why his friends had been so frightened the first time he’d transformed. He watched in horror as the frail-looking girl collapsed onto floor and began to shake uncontrollably. Her body distorted and twisted grotesquely, coarse wiry hair sprouting up from her pores and lethally sharp fangs and claws springing from her gums, fingers, and toes. Ted didn’t know exactly when Arden made the transition from human to wolf, but before he knew it, a smallish, dark-coloured wolf was crouching on the floor in front of him, the only trace of the girl she’d been moments before her deep blue, human eyes.

It was only then that Ted realized he had been so absorbed with watching the girl’s transformation that he, too had become a wolf without even noticing. He and the wolf that was Arden saw themselves reflected back in the full-length mirror on the wall�”the larger and lighter-coloured wolf standing behind the smaller, darker one lying on the floor. This was the one part of transformation that Ted had never gotten used to�”not recognizing his own face.

Although it was hard to judge the emotions of a wolf just by looking at its face and body, he could tell that this bothered Arden more than it did him; she apparently hadn’t looked in the mirror much after transformation. Ted, however, always forced himself to observe his reflection in his wolf form, hoping that someday it would be as commonplace to him as his human body.

Ted turned to Arden and stood, wagging his tail like a big, friendly dog. He bounded over to a pile of pillows and flipped one up in the air with his nose. Slowly, Arden stood up, took the pillow in her mouth, and walked in a circle around a dog bed. She evidently didn’t care for the dog bed, as a moment later, she was trying to climb up onto one of the two real beds in the room, which was too high for her.

Ted, seeing her predicament, pushed a low stool over to her, and she scrambled up onto it and clambered into the bed. Once she was comfortable, Ted bounded over to the other side of the room and scampered onto a bed facing the other . “Goodnight,” he tried to say, before remembering that he couldn’t actually speak�”what came out was an embarrassing howl.

And the wolf that was Arden let out a howl that for some reason made sense to Ted. He could tell that she had tried to reply to him, “Goodnight to you, too, Theo.”

* * * * * *

Rays of sunlight streamed through the windows of the hospital wing, kissing Ted across the face and opening his eyes. He was always human when he awoke in the hospital wing the morning after every full moon, but he always ached from the strain of his bones and muscles being twisted and forced into the shape of another animal.

He turned his head�”which was harder than it sounded, as his neck was stiff and sore�”to see Arden in the next hospital bed. He grinned. “Hey, good morning!” he greeted her.

Arden smiled back. “I’m me again!” she said.

“I’m still me,” Ted replied matter-of-factly. He thought about making a counter for all of the ridiculously cheesy things he said.

Arden was silent for a moment. Then, she informed him, “You are very special, Theo.”

“Beats being normal any day,” he replied, and rolled over to go back to sleep.

The first task of the Triwizard Tournament came up faster than Emma had ever expected. It seemed to her as though she’d just been chosen as a champion the day before, but before she knew it, she was being dragged out of her bed by Haley, who hissed, “Emma! The first task is today!’

“Merlin’s pyjamas!” shouted Emma, bolting out of bed immediately. “I can’t believe it,” she grumbled. “I was just having the best dream about a world made of jellies, and you just totally spoiled it.”

When she emerged onto the Quidditch pitch later that day for the first challenge, she looked ready for combat, her long wavy hair was tied up in a knot and her wand firmly placed in a holster she’d added to her belt.

The other two champions looked the same as always, Vladislav in his Durmstrang robes and Marina wearing extremely baggy jeans under her robes that looked like she’d stolen them from an older brother that didn’t exist. But all three champions wore the same expression. It was one of mixed confidence and determination, fear and nervousness.

This is it, thought Emma, her heart pounding. This is the start of it all. From this point… I could go down in history… or I could humiliate myself in front of hundreds of people.

* * * * * *

Ivy breathed the fresh air deeply. She hadn’t been outside in a long time what with all of her studying, and she’d forgotten how pleasant it was. She had forced herself to take a break from her work and enjoy watching Emma compete, and she was looking forward to it. She scanned the stands for Ted, whose height and garish red-and-gold top hat made him conspicuous in any crowd, and made her way over toward him.

He was laughing about something, his shaggy-haired head tilted back and his light blue eyes crinkled up with mirth. But sitting next to and smiling up at him was a girl Ivy didn’t recognize at all. She was from Beauxbatons, judging by her powder-blue robes and French accent, and she was small with dark curly hair.

Ted turned his head casually and noticed Ivy. “Hi!” he called, waving madly like a five-year-old. “Want to sit down?” He patted the bench next to him.

Ivy’s eyes flicked over to the French girl, who for some reason looked frightened and upset by this suggestion. “Oh, no, I’m just stopping by to say hi,” Ivy replied airily, and made her way off across the stands.

She saw Tyrone Thomas in the centre of a gaggle of friends and admirers on the opposite side of the pitch, and Haley was seated with several other girls, who appeared to be happily discussing shoes. But Jordan was on his own on the other side of the field, and Ivy sat down next to her brother. “Hello,” she greeted him quietly.

He looked surprised to see her. “Ivy! You’re the last person I expected to see here. I don’t believe I’ve even seen you outside the castle for weeks.”

Ivy tossed her long blonde braid over her shoulder. “I couldn’t miss Emma’s first task to study.”

The atypically relaxed lines of Jordan’s face tightened, and his expression grew closed�”this was the Jordan that she knew. “You’d do a great job in the tournament, too,” she said. “You know that. And you know I’d skip studying to see you, too.” This was far bolder than usual for Ivy; she must have gotten it from Ted after spending so much time with him.

And now Ted was… she shook the thought from her head. Jordan’s features relaxed again, but not completely, and Ivy changed the subject. “So, how’s your Quidditch team doing?”

“Not quite the same without Emma. We’ve got Ophelia Wood�”her sister was the keeper last year�”replacing Emma, but she doesn’t have the same chemistry with the rest of the team,” explained Jordan. He continued to ramble on about Quidditch, which Ivy didn’t understand in the slightest, but she nodded politely and interjected ‘oh’ and ‘I see’ at appropriate times. She liked seeing her brother happy, and in her opinion, this didn’t happen enough�”too often, even now, he was off in his own world.

Did her friends feel like they were losing her when she spend so much time on her studies? Was that why…

Her weighty thoughts were interrupted by McGonagall. “Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!” she announced. “As always, the champions have not been told any details about the first challenge, and so are as unaware as you are about the task that lies before them.” She held her wand aloft.

“I am going to send three balls of light into the forest�”red for Emma Weasley, green for Mr. Poliakoff, and blue for Marina Weasley. The task is to follow these balls of light throughout the Forbidden Forest, and not to lose track, whatever may block your path. The first to emerge with their ball of light will receive the highest number of points.”

She glanced over at the three champions, then flicked her wand, and three balls of light burst forth. They zipped toward a door to the Quidditch stadium that led into the forest, and hovered there until McGonagall called, “GO!”

The champions certainly did ‘go’--- they were out of the arena before the audience knew it. Ivy watched the three balls of light disappear into the forest, the champions hot on their figurative tails.

“Let the games begin,” said Jordan solemnly, leaning back in his seat.


* * * * * *

Emma couldn’t believe that the first task could be something so stupid. Really, running after a ball of light, of all things? Jordan would be good at this, she thought to herself. He’s the one who spends his time trying to catch a crummy little ball, ace Seeker that he is.

She was more nervous than she let on. Emma had only entered the Forbidden Forest twice before--after all, it was called the ‘Forbidden’ Forest for a reason--and she had encountered danger each time. The first time had been in her first year, when she and her friends had saved Ivy from a hungry and irate group of Acromantulas that were trying to devour her�”and Emma had gotten knocked unconscious after tripping over a log while in a long invisibility cloak. The second time had been the previous year, when she and her friends had run after Jordan into the forest and ended up locked in combat with Draco Malfoy, one of his servants, and several Dementors.

A twig snapped, and a bush rustled, just like in the movies. She tensed herself, hoping that whatever had made the sound didn’t like to eat Triwizard champion sandwiches for tea… it sounded like something rather big was coming…

“Oy, freckle-face!” shrieked a nasal, distinctly Cockney-accented voice, and before Emma had time to react, the largest ferret that she’d seen in her entire life had propelled itself out from behind a bush and chomped very painfully on her ankle.

“Great, I thought I was done being attacked by oversized ferrets when we got rid of Malfoy,” she muttered, wincing in pain and trying to shake the ferret off. She vaguely recalled from some distant Care of Magical Creatures lesson that these giant, rude ferrets were called Jarveys, and that they were among the most irritating creatures known to mankind. “Listen,” she said exasperatedly, “You don’t want to mess with me. I’m the best hexer in my school.”

“You’re telling porkies,” the Jarvey mocked thickly through a delectable mouthful of Emma’s leg. “I bet you’re�””

“IMMOBILUS!” Stowing her wand back in her belt with a smirk, Emma kicked the motionless animal out of her way and chased after her ball of light. Thanks to the Jarvey, she wasn’t as close to the ball as she had been at first, and she couldn’t run as fast as usual due to her aching ankle, but she hadn’t lost the ball, and that gave her hope.

She saw a long sheet of red-gold hair whip out of sight, accompanied by a loud shout of “Stupefy!”

“Marina, be careful if you have to come this way!” called Emma. “There are Jarveys around here, and they’re annoying as the plague.”

“Thanks!” called her cousin, “Though I don’t think the word ‘annoying’ does the plague justice.”

Hoping that Marina would heed her advice, she dashed on after the ball of light, limping slightly.

“HOOLOOVOO!” sang a high, clear voice out of nowhere. “HOOLOOVOO!”

That is a seriously catchy song, thought Emma. Somebody should definitely market it. I wonder where it’s coming from.

“HOOLOOVOO! HOOLOOVOO!”

She had never heard anything quite like it, and it was absolutely marvelous. Somehow, this fact reminded her of bananas, and she suddenly realized that maybe they would taste better with the peel left on. She had no way of knowing whether or not this was true, as she’d never tried unpeeled bananas before.

“There are no bananas in the sky! There are no bananas in the sky!” she sang softly to herself, then belted out, “There’s a sun and a moon and a coconut cream pie, but there are NOOO BANANAS IN THE SKYYYY!”

Speaking of fruit, the ball of light that she was chasing looked a lot like an orange… but it wasn’t orange. Were there any oranges that weren’t orange? Like, blue ones? Which came first anyway, the fruit name or the colour name ‘orange?’

“HOOLOOVOO!”

Emma looked up to see a magnificent bird sitting in a tall tree. It was as blue as an orange, which meant that it wasn’t at all. Well, in any case, the bird was a brilliant shade of electric tangerine somewhat reminiscent of Giorgi’s hair, and it had majestic, sweeping plumes. It was obviously the source of the beautiful song.

“You look like an Archibald,” Emma said out loud. “I will call him Archibald, and he will be mine, and he will be my Archibald. I will hug him and squeeze him and call him Archibald. Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha.”

“HOOLOOVOO!” replied Archibald.

Emma giggled to herself as Vladislav raced by. He looked terribly funny, racing madly after his ball of light, puffing like a steam engine and with both fingers stuffed in his ears as a shocking pink bird flew after him, singing “HOOLOOVOO!” Really, it was almost as if the Durmstrang champion was running away from the adorable little… Fwooper… oh no…

“The Fwooper’s song, though at first enjoyable, eventually drives the listener to insanity,” Emma remembered, pulling the passage out of a corner in her brain that did not seem quite as hazy as the rest of it.

“AAARGH, NOOO!” shouted a male voice. It had to be Vladislav! Emma froze, listening for danger, but nothing greeted her ears but silence.

She hoped that he was all right, but she didn’t have time to check on him now. She had to get away from Archib�”the Fwooper�” before her brains were permanently fried.

“HOOLOOV�””

“SILENCIO!”

The Fwooper opened and closed its beak several times, but nothing came out, and it slumped over with a rather wounded expression.

Emma ran as fast as her Jarvey-bitten legs would carry her, aware that the ball of light was evading her grasp. She had entered the heart of the forest now, where it was so dark and densely wooded that it was hard to make out her surroundings. But she chased her ball of light as it glowed against the dim landscape, and she followed it as if it was her guide through this strange place. Until… it was hovering in air, in one spot.

Excellent, a chance to catch up! she thought happily, racing toward it.

She suddenly felt a very strange sensation sweep over her. It was as if the ground beneath her feet had decided to go on a holiday, and before she knew it, she was plummeting downward, and fast… and then the ground reappeared, much quicker and harder than before.

“Who turned out the Lumos?” was Emma’s last conscious thought before the world faded into blackness around her.

* * * * * *

Emma’s eyelids flickered open, and a blurry face swirled into view. “Are you God?” she mumbled blearily.

“Not exactly,” replied Madame Patil, the matron, coming into focus. “Lie back down, dear, you’ve had a nasty concussion. I mean, what else can be expected from falling into a ditch and hitting your head on a rock? And this Triwizard Tournament is supposed to be safe?”

“Well, what fun is a risk-free tournament?” asked Emma.

Madame Patil shook her head, causing her long black braid to dance down her back. “Emma Weasley, you’re crazy. I suppose you have to be to be a Triwizard Champion, but still…” She gestured over toward the next bed. “This young man had almost the exact same accident that you did.”

Emma glanced over to see Vladislav, fast asleep or unconscious in the next bed. Sleeping, he looked strangely different�”without his usual serious expression of eyebrows furrowed in concentration and lips tight, he looked years younger, and somehow vulnerable. Emma snorted to see that stacked on her bedside table was a mountain of candy and get-well cards. Conversely, Vladislav’s table was bare, except for a monstrously thick book entitled “Harry Potter: The Story of the Living Legend.”

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty’s awake!” shouted a deep and far too loud voice. Emma grimaced and clutched her aching head as Tyrone, Haley, and Ted bounded into the hospital wing. Madame Patil hushed her nephew and bustled off to try to force a disgusting-looking potion down an ill second year’s throat.

“It’s been two days,” Haley told her cousin. “We were really freaked out, but Madame Patil said that you were okay. Sorry that there aren’t more of us to see you, only we didn’t think you’d be up yet. Jordan’s training the replacement Chaser for his Quidditch team, and Ivy’s�””

“Studying?” Emma finished with a smirk, and Haley nodded affirmatively. The patient propped herself up with a pillow. “So, it really has been two whole days since the first challenge?”

“Yeah.” Ted sat down at the foot of her bed. “You and Vladislav tied for second. Marina made it out of the forest, but when you two didn’t for awhile, your Uncle Harry figured something had gone wrong, and he went in after you two. You actually were going to score higher than Vladislav because you were closer to finishing than he was, but the two other Ministry judges�”Skitesby and Schiffington�”had some weird grading scale, so it evened out.”

“I don’t know what their problem is,” Tyrone added bitterly. “I mean, all right, Evadne Schiffington is not too hard on the eyes, I’ll admit that. She dresses like someone’s Muggle granny, true, but she really does have nice�”” Emma glared and Tyrone said quickly in a small voice, “What I was saying was, she seriously messed up your score.”

Emma smiled. “Well, I really appreciate you lot dropping by,” she said. “Is there anything else I missed while I was dead to the world?”

Ted shrugged. “Well, McGonagall hinted that the champions should find out as much as possible about Hogwarts before the next task,” he mentioned.

Emma pumped her fist victoriously. “Ha! I have an advantage, then! This is my fifth year here, and Marina and Vladislav haven’t even been to Hogwarts until now!”

At the same time that Emma uttered his name, Vladislav’s eyes flickered open, and he said in a sleepy, garbled voice, “I’ll have three lumps, please.”

“Join the club, Vladislav!” Emma yawned.

* * * * * *

“My daughter,” exclaimed Ron at the Auror office, preparing to refill his mug with coffee for the umpteenth time, “has entered the Forbidden Forest three times�”all for a good reason�”and she’s gotten knocked unconscious two times out of those three. What does that tell you?”

Harry assumed that this was a rhetorical question and simply said, “Makes me think of my Tournament days… narrowly escaping death about as often as I breathed… but, then, I guess it was good that I got used to that because it got me this job. I can see why you’re so worried, though. I mean, I’ve got two nieces in the Tournament, and somehow, that’s almost as scarier than having to compete myself.”

He watched his friend toss down the cup of coffee in a single gulp and shook his head with an expression of both awe and revulsion. He himself had never really liked coffee (an unfortunate incident in Madame Puddifoot’s at the tender age of fifteen hadn’t helped), preferring tea or butterbeer, but Ron seemed to live on the stuff.

“But as worried as I am about Emma and Marina, there’s another matter on my mind�”Apple,” said Harry. Ron nodded grimly and raised his empty coffee mug in agreement.

“That speech he gave after the first task was definitely a classic,” he noted. “Percy’s a good minister, but he hasn’t got a way with words like Apple. ‘Course, Percy doesn’t make empty promises to ‘make the country the best it can be,’ either.”

Harry recalled Apple’s speech all too well…

It was held in the stadium after the First Task, for everyone who was interested. Although many of the younger students cared less about elections than they did about the average yearly profit of Welsh celery farmers, several watched the speech for quite a different reason than an interest in political leadership. The truth was, Apple was extremely handsome, and his youth and vivacity made him even more attractive to girls and women everywhere.

And after mounting his podium, he said in a clear, carrying voice just one word: ‘Mudbloods.’

There was an instant uproar. Hermione almost fell out of her seat, and a seventh-year Gryffindor boy had to be physically restrained to be kept from charging onto the team and hexing Apple. But Apple remained calm.

“It’s a hideous, disgusting, and all-too-commonly-used word, and just as hideous and disgusting is the attitude of the people who chose to use it. The number of pureblooded wizards is extremely small�”in fact, no one is actually pureblooded, since we can all be traced back to non-magical ancestors; magic had to originate somewhere. But in any case, everyone saw last year what a deranged mind prejudiced toward Muggles could do when Draco Malfoy was recruiting followers and terrorizing the country. So many innocent people were harmed, and some of my closest friends were killed. I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand for that.

“Did you know that there is no law prohibiting discrimination based on heritage? If I’m elected Minister of Magic, that will change. I promise that I, Tancred Llewellyn Apple, will make sure that Muggles and Muggle-borns are treated fairly, and I will do all in my power to stop discrimination. But you can start now. You can help change wizarding Britain. Just don’t judge based on bloodlines, keep an open mind, vote for me, and I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

It was the kind of thing that was often labeled ‘short but sweet,’ and there was thunderous applause, although several people, such as Charybdis Nott, looked rather murderous and refused to applaud.

Hermione turned to Harry and said, “Really, I don’t know what you had against Apple. You made him out to be some sort of a dunderhead, and you and Ron are always making jokes about him, but that was an excellent speech. It’s really about time that someone cracked down on Muggle discrimination.”

“Hermione, he can definitely give good speeches, I’ll give him that. But he’s making promises he can’t keep, and what’s more, he’s not a very good magician. He doesn’t really understand magic theory that well, which could cause problems if there was serious trouble.” He had tried to be sensitive because Hermione was, after all, Muggle-born, but Harry was also a very stubborn man by nature, and he didn’t want to admit that he could have been wrong about pretty-boy Apple.

Hermione smiled. “Harry, you know what? I think you’re jealous,” she told him. And as she was also a very stubborn woman, she remained steadfast in this belief.

Ron shook his head slowly as Harry finished recounting this tale. “Hermione,” he said in a low voice. “First Lockhart, then Krum, then McLaggen, now Apple… what’s wrong with that woman?”

Harry grinned. “So you think that her taste in men in bad?”

Ron blinked, seeming to realize that he had just insulted himself. “With friends like these…” he muttered, then trailed off. “I’m going to go drown my sorrows in coffee.”

* * * * * *

Professor Blaise Zabini appeared to be in a rather fouler mood than usual, if that was even possible. His black eyes were harder and colder than iron, and his lips were curled back from his bared teeth in a snarl.

“Sit,” he commanded laconically as Emma entered the classroom, her first class since the Triwizard Tournament. “Well, Miss Weasley, after your dismal performance in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, I can only hope that your injury knocked some sense into you. Hopefully, you won’t prove me wrong with your Forgetfulness Potion. You should know the recipe; I’m assuming your concussion didn’t give you amnesia, as in that case, you wouldn’t be needing a Forgetfulness Potion at all.”

“What’s his problem?” Emma asked darkly, taking a seat between Haley and Tyrone.

“Don’t think he liked Tancred Apple’s speech,” Ted told her, leaning toward her. “Also… I think he really wants Hogwarts to win the Triwizard Tournament, and this is his way of pressuring you into doing your best.”

“Yeah, and I heard he seriously hates Durmstrang’s Potions teacher, Madame Malinkovsky,” added Tyrone. “They, like, met up at some potions conference in Germany years ago, and Madame Malinkovsky humiliated him in front of the whole group. My Aunt Padma told me�”she was at the conference, too, since she’s a Healer, and�””

“THOMAS!” roared Zabini, who had been busy breathing down the neck of one Anatoly Capshaw, Slytherin prefect. Zabini really had to be in a bad mood when he was being horrible to members of his own house. “Are you discussing potions with Miss Weasley?”

“Actually, yes, sir,” Tyrone replied in his silk-smooth voice. “We--”

“Love potions do not count,” snarled the Potions master.

Tyrone’s dark skin flushed maroon. “Professor, we were actually discussing the merits of Durmstrang. I heard they really have some great teachers… in fact, their potions teacher is supposed to be especially good�”have you met?”

Zabini’s eyes became angry slits. “Five points from Gryffindor,” he hissed, and the Gryffindor students made indignant cries of protest. “Yes, the Durmstrang potions teacher is very competent in her subject,” he said smoothly. “And the Durmstrang Triwizard champion, Mr.Vladislav Poliakoff, has learnt his lessons well from her. However, there are many areas in which she lacks expertise.”

“Bet you ten Galleons that she turned Zabini down for a date,” whispered Tyrone.

“Detention, Thomas,” spat the Potions master, striding over to resume insulting Anatoly Capshaw. “Do not hold personal conversations in my class. Mr. Capshaw, I can only hope that your plans for the future do not include potion-making?”

Before the prefect had time to reply, Zabini added, “I nearly forgot to mention this, but for the next few days, your Heads of House will be discussing career options with you, so please think of some possible careers in which you might… cope, if not excel. Mr. Capshaw, as I am your head of house, I am telling you now to spare you the trouble of researching the requirements of a career in potions.”

“Even with the tournament, classes are the same as always,” Emma thought glumly.

* * * * * *

“Hey, Lee,” Haley wrote in her journal that night.

“Hello,” Lee replied cheerfully. “Is Emma all right? You haven’t written since after the first Triwizard Task when you said your dad was going into the forest to check on her.”

“She had a concession or whatever it’s called, but she’s okay now.”

“A concussion, maybe?”

“Yeah, that. Sorry, I’m kind of distracted. See, we have career advice in a few days, and it’s bothering me,” confessed Haley.

“Oh, Merlin, not career advice. I remember my consultation with Professor McGonagall… total nightmare. In any case, what do you want to be?”

Haley hesitated. “See, that’s the thing. To be honest, I’ve always wanted to be an actress.”

“Really?”

“Laugh all you want,” Haley wrote bitterly. “I know a lot of people say they want to be a star, but it actually means a lot to me. I’m serious. Ever since Jordan dragged me to see some Shakespeare festival six years ago, it’s been my dream to go onstage… I want to play Hamlet!”

Lee’s words appeared rather later than usual, and Haley assumed that the diary had been digesting her information. “I’m not laughing�”I think that’s cool.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me that Hamlet was a man?” demanded Haley.

There was another pause, and then Lee replied, “Well, it’s acting, isn’t it? I don’t think it would be as fun to just play people exactly like you. If you’re so sure, then just tell Professor G.W. that that’s what you want to do. You’ll rock.”

“I think I will,” Haley wrote, and she couldn’t help but smile. Her career consultation session would be dramatic in more ways than one.

November rolled around, bringing with it the first light snowfall of the year, and the white flakes flurried around Ted’s face, tickling his nose and eyelashes, as he made his way toward the Whomping Willow for transformation.

By now, he and Arden were better acquainted�”they’d found time to talk in the hallways, at meals, at the first Triwizard Task, and during free time on weekends. It was nice to get to know new people, and to get to meet the real Arden, not hidden behind her shyness.
Ted got along well with shy people, he realized�”though nowhere near as shy and frightened of new people as Arden was (at least, not anymore), Ivy was an introvert who didn’t always show her feelings.

Arden greeted him upon entering the Shack; she was one of those people who was never late for everything. She was holding a book, not a sketchpad, but a thick, leather-bound volume. “What’s that?” asked Ted.

“Oh, it is nothing. Just my journal,” Arden said quietly, setting it down on one of the beds.

“Like, a diary?” Ted grinned. “You’re not writing horrible and slanderous things about me in there, are you?”

“It is not a diary,” the French girl protested. “I write poetry. Mostly in French�”it is not very good… much of it is about transformation.”

Ted, goofy as always on full moons and determined to make far-too-serious Arden laugh, struck a dramatic pose and clasped his hand to his heart. “When the moon hits your eye,” he recited in a theatrical voice, “like a big pizza pie… it’s transformation time…”

“Perhaps a bit better than that,” Arden admitted with a smile.

The boy took a seat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for awhile,” he said after a short, contemplative pause.

“Yes?” Arden looked up at him with questioning eyes.

“I mean, I just wondered… what does escargot taste like anyway? No offence�”I mean, I’m sure it’s very nice and all, but the thought of eating snails always makes me feel sick.” He wrinkled his nose.

Arden wore a curious expression, as if the laughter that had lit up her face had died inside her. “That is all? Er, I am afraid I cannot tell you that,” she replied. “I am a strict vegetarian.”

Ted laughed. “A vegetarian werewolf? That’s definitely a new one.” He settled back on his bed. “You know, you draw, you write, you’re smart, you’re nice… did you ever think that you’re leaving your school out of something?”

The girl blinked confusedly, and he continued, “You don’t really have friends at your school. Nobody else really knows you, and I kind of feel bad for all of the kids at Beauxbatons, ‘cause I’m the only person who gets that chance.”

His pronunciation of ‘Beauxbatons’ was laughably bad, but Arden was too tactful to point out this fact. She simply said quietly,“Sometimes, I wish that I had friends. But the problem is, if I did, they might find out that I am… that I am… you know what it is that I mean. And then, the whole school will find out, and I will be chased out with, how do you say…pitchforks.” Her dark blue eyes had grown wide with fear, and her voice rose higher and higher with emotion.

“I think you underestimate people!” Ted told her, alarmed. “Nobody’s going to chase you with pitchforks�”believe me, everyone knows about me, and even though it was a big deal at first, they got used to it, just like I did. I guess few little kids are scared of me at first, first years and stuff, but still, they get over it, especially since I’m a Prefect. You know, in the public eye and all.” He laughed. “I mean, so you transform and you suddenly get hairy and bloodthirsty… that’s not so bad. It happens to everyone…it’s called puberty.”

Arden smiled weakly. “I do not think it is quite the same thing,” she pointed out.

“Well, I’m not telling you that you should let your whole school know like I did or anything,” Ted told her. “I mean, I’m weird. But I’m just letting you know, it’s not so bad.” He lay back on his bed and changed the subject.

“So, is fifth year work as stressful for you as it is for the Hogwarts kids? Everyone’s studying like mad�”I don’t think my friend Ivy’s seen the light of day since school started, except for the first Triwizard task. And even Haley’s working harder; she’s kind of a slacker normally.”

“School is not so terrible. We have our examinations in sixth year, and we do not have so much to do, since we are living at Hogwarts for the year,” replied the girl. “Is Ivy the blonde girl who we saw at the first task?”

Ted nodded. “Yeah, she’s one of Harry Potter’s kids. She’s really cool.”

Arden began to say something, but before a single word fell from her lips, the moon’s silvery rays sliced through the room, and Ted felt himself changing fast. The conversation would have to wait.

* * * * * *

The next day was a Hogsmeade weekend, and although Ted was pale and tired-looking, he was in a very good mood. Upon entering the Common Room, he snuck up behind Ivy’s armchair and dangled a piece of parchment in front of her face, reading “Hey!”

Absentmindedly, Ivy brushed it away, then blinked, realized that notes did not normally float in midair, and turned around to see Ted. “Hey to you, too,” she said.

“So, do you think you could spare a few hours of your studying to go to Hogsmeade with me?” asked Ted. He made big, sad puppy-dog eyes at her. “Please? I miss you. I’ve, like, forgotten what you look like, I’ve seen so little of you this year!” He squinted at his friend. “Have you always been blonde?” he asked jokingly.

Ivy chuckled, and she set down her textbooks. She couldn’t possibly study all day on a Hogsmeade weekend, especially with an invitation like the one she’d just gotten. “How about the others?” she asked.

“Jordan’s holding Quidditch training again,” replied Ted. “He’s a man obsessed. And Emma and Haley are going accessory shopping for some ball later this year or something�”if you’d rather do that, I understand�”but if you want to come with me, that would be fun, too.”

“I’d like that,” replied Ivy, pulling a blue-grey cardigan on over her wool sweater and throwing a scarf around her neck faster than you could say ‘sphygmomanometer.’
The two Gryffindor Prefects walked down the road to Hogsmeade together through the chilly air, crunching through the light, fluffy snow of the previous night. Ivy had always loved cold weather, and the chilly wind made her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkle as she and her friend talked and laughed.

They couldn’t resist visiting Honeydukes candy shop, where they bought all of their favourite sweets, an assortment that, oddly enough, did not any include any cockroach clusters, blood lollipops, or acid pops. Ted said that he’d heard of a boy who had burnt a hole straight through the roof of his mouth with an acid pop, and that his brains leaked through it. Ivy was inclined to believe that this was an urban legend, but she could never be too cautious.

As they munched Fizzing Whizbees (both of their favourite) and made their way toward the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer, Ted mentioned, “So, Ivy, you don’t need to answer this if you don’t want to or anything, but what have you been studying so much? I know we have a lot of homework ‘cos this is our O.W.L.s year and all, but… you’re always so busy.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ivy said quickly. “I mean, just some extra stuff that I wanted to understand better.”

They entered the warm bar and found a table where they could sit together. They enjoyed a long, meandering conversation over steaming mugs of butterbeer, discussing everything that popped into their heads.

“I had an odd dream last night,” mentioned Ivy. “It was pretty vague�”I don’t really remember much of it, but I don’t think I was myself it, and I remember running a lot. And lots of trees.” She paused contemplatively for a moment. “I guess it’s not that interesting, but the thing is, I basically never have dreams, and if I do, they’re about things like reading a book or eating breakfast or being in Charms class or something normal like that.”

Ted nodded. “I sometimes have really crazy dreams,” he said. “Like one time, I dreamed that I was deathly allergic to the word ‘yeah,’ and I had to try and keep people from saying it. Another time, I dreamed I was in a huge skyscraper, and I was holding a black rose that I had to give to someone wearing a blue shirt before the sun went up, or else the building would explode.

“But the weirdest dream I’ve ever had, actually, had you in it. So, I was at some zoo, and I really, really wanted a snow cone. But Zabini was selling the snow cones, and he said I could only have a peanut-butter flavoured snow cone�”which, to me, sounds disgusting�”unless I told him the chemical formula for snow cones. But then, you came in on a flying carpet, and�””

Ivy never did get to hear what exactly she did, because Ted’s voice cut off when a girl entered the Three Broomsticks. She was small with curly, dark hair and a tired-looking face, and Ivy recognized her as the girl who had sat with Ted at the first Triwizard task. The girl waved, and Ted called “HI!” loudly.

“Who’s she?” Ivy asked pleasantly.

“Oh, that’s Arden. She goes to Beauxbatons,” explained Ted. “She’s really cool�”seriously shy, though, or I’d introduce you.”

Ivy smiled, but from that point, she was rather quieter. She couldn’t help but wonder how Ted had met this girl, Arden, and how the two of them had gotten to be so close.

Ivy was, by nature, a very calm, kind, and accepting person who almost never got upset with other people�”even with individuals like Professor Zabini, she would try to see their point of view. The one major exception to this rule was Malfoy, who she knew she could never forgive. But a small, selfish corner of her mind that didn’t normally show itself felt jealous, even irritated with Ted.

I always thought Ted liked me, she thought, feeling ashamed at her own thoughts as they came to her. I know we’re best friends, but for some reason, I always thought he liked me… in a different way. But what if he never really cared about me? What if he just likes to feel like he’s doing good deeds by hanging out with helpless, shy, vulnerable little creatures like that Arden… and me…

Last year, we were always so close, but he felt sorry for me because Malfoy had escaped… he’s only my friend out of pity. It’s not a bad thing�”just Ted being nice… it’s my own fault for misinterpreting the gesture.

“Ivy?” Ted was waving his hand back and forth in front of her face. “Are you all right? You look sort of spaced out.”

Ivy blinked and snapped back to her senses. “Sorry,” she said crisply, getting to her feet. “I’ve just remembered, I’ve got loads of studying to do. I’ll see you later.”

Her friend looked disappointed. “Are you sure you really have to study? It’s not healthy to have all work and no play. Can’t you just hang out with me a little longer?”

Ivy smiled tautly. “That’s all right,” she said.

“Well, okay, if you’re sure. Want me to walk you back?” offered Ted, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I’m fine,” Ivy told him, shaking her head. She didn’t need his pity, and she didn’t want to ruin a nice day in Hogsmeade that he could spend with Arden. “Have a fun time,” she called behind her, picking up her bag and adjusting her scarf.

* * * * * *

Emma and Haley high-fived each other as they exited the robe shop, laden down with packages. “We are shopping geniuses!” exclaimed Emma, pumping her fist into the air.

“We should be on the Olympic shopping team!” added Haley. “I can’t wait until the Yule Ball. Everyone’s jaws are going to drop when they our outfits.” They made their way toward the Mouth of the Dragon, a little-known coffee shop that was the less-mushy alternative to Madame Puddifoot’s, and their favourite place to hang out. It was Hogsmeade’s best kept secret, and Emma had to be careful that her father didn’t find out about it, or he’d never leave.

After they placed their orders�”mocha cappuccino for Emma and a strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream and sprinkles for Haley, who wasn’t allowed to have caffeine-- Marina and several of her friends from Beauxbatons waltzed into the shop and sat down at the next table, speaking rapidly in French.

“I need to take a second language,” muttered Haley. “Bilingual Babe over there is making me jealous.”

Marina smiled over at them. “Sorry about that,” she apologized. “Yvette and Genevieve don’t speak much English at all.” She brushed some light snowflakes carelessly off of her bare shoulders�”even in chilly November, she wore a black tank top. “So, Emma, are you busy trying to learn stuff about Hogwarts? If you study its history and stuff enough, you’ll probably do great in the second task.”

“I think I’ll do just fine without studying,” Emma told her. “I mean, I go to Hogwarts, so I know a lot about it.”

Her French cousin shrugged. “I’m just saying, you’re the youngest and everything, and I know the first task was a problem for you. I just think it’d be cool if we both scored higher than that Poliakoff prat.”

“The first task was not a problem for me. It was messed up! My ball of light led me off a cliff, and it was too dark to tell!” protested Emma.

Marina rolled her eyes. “Your ball of light led you off a cliff? Seriously, Emma. Look, it’s okay to admit you made a mistake. You’re not perfect.”

This was the wrong thing to say. The Hogwarts champion stood up, her dark brown eyes flashing. “You know what? Shut up!” she instructed, barely realizing that she was now shouting. “I have news for you. You’re not perfect, either! I know, you’re about a thousand times prettier than anyone in the school�”so what? That doesn’t make you better than everyone else!”

“I never said I was bett�””

“You know, when we were little and you still lived in England near us, you weren’t like this! People who met you for the first time thought you were a boy, for crying out loud! You had that short hair, and you were always covered in dirt. We used to have fun, before you turned into some prissy, girly little snob like your mum!” yelled Emma. Everyone in the shop was staring at her now, and Haley shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“I AM NOT A PRISSY, GIRLY LITTLE SNOB!” Marine screamed, her eyes narrowing and her beautiful face distorting with anger. “And how dare you talk about my mum like that? You should think about your own mother before you talk about mine. She’s a bossy hag, and she doesn’t even have good looks to go with her stuck-up attitude!”

“Not everyone in the world can be a beauty queen like you!” Emma bellowed, her cheeks flushing. “My mum’s not ugly! And you know what, Marina? I’M going to win this tournament! As far as I’m concerned, you’re the enemy!”

“Oh, go chase another imaginary ball off a cliff,” Marina snarled. “You know what? I’ve never accused anyone of this before, but I can’t help it. You’re jealous of me.”

“Of a cow like you? Not hardly!” And Emma stomped out of the shop, Haley bobbing discombobulatedly behind her. “Haley, I have to blow her score to smithereens in the next challenge,” she hissed. “I’m going to make her look like an idiot.”

Haley looked wide-eyed and confused. “You don’t need to get so worked up,” she assured her friend. “You’ll do I good job, I know it. It’s like Thomas Edison said�”I didn’t fail, I just learned two thousand ways not to make a light bulb!”

The Hogwarts champion stared at her. “WHO THE [CENSORED] IS THOMAS EDISON?” she roared, and stormed away.

Haley blinked�”she’d known Emma ever since she was born, for over fifteen years, and she knew all about her temper. She had seen her get mad at almost everyone, but she and Marina had always gotten along quite well, and Emma couldn’t have exploded at Haley more than twice before. “This tournament is really stressing her out,” she thought, feeling rather shell-shocked.

At that moment, Tyrone sauntered out of Zonko’s. “Hey, Hales! Seen Emma? I bought some really brilliant biting candies, and I want to try and trick her with them. I can just see the look on her face when she bites into a sweet that bites back!” He and Emma often tried to pull pranks on each other, though Tyrone rarely succeeded, as Emma was a pranking genius as well as a shopping genius.

Haley laughed dryly. “I wouldn’t risk it,” she said.

* * * * * *

Jordan let out a long breath of air as he jogged up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. It was odd, really, how much he was enjoying being Quidditch captain. The team was his responsibility to train, and he took that responsibility seriously�”they were better than they’d ever been before in his time at Hogwarts. True, his methods were a tad unorthodox�”they did all sorts of Muggle exercises and drills. This might have had something to do with the fact that, thanks to Giorgi, he was rapidly becoming something of a football junkie.

Speaking of Giorgi, he had a new email from her:

To: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk
From: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
Subj: I’m bad…
Message:

Jordan, my main man, I have not emailed you for exactly nine days, but there’s a reason for that. You see, I’m grounded, due to me being a Horrible Irresponsible Child of Doom. More on that later, but how am I sending this email now if I’m grounded, you may ask? Hmmmmm? Well, me being the Horrible Irresponsible Child of Doom that I am, I decided to snake onto the computer while I’m home alone!!!MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

So here’s what happened. My friend Perri and I were at a sleepover at a girl named Jasmine’s house, but it got boring, so we TP’ed my maths teacher’s house�”he lives near Jasmine, poor girl, and WE DIDN’T GET CAUGHT!!!!!!! IT WAS AWESOME!!!!

But then, we made a big mistake. We walked back to my house and we climbed up a tree and through my bedroom window so we could get more toilet paper. But Perri tripped and woke up my dad, and he caught us holding the toilet paper, and we got in trouble. I kinda loathe this.

SOOOoooOOOoooOOOOooo… how did Emma do in that first challenge, and what have you been up to? Anything interesting going on in the happenin’ hotbed that is Scotland?? WRITE BACK BEFORE MY PARENTS GET HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIORGI!

Jordan simply stared at the screen. He couldn’t believe how much trouble Giorgi and her friends were always getting into�”and why someone as cool and crazy as she was would be even mildy interested in Jordan’s own dull lifestyle. He struggled for something to write.

To: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
From: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk
Subj: Re: I’m bad
Message:

Giorgi,
Don’t write back until you’re on parole, because I don’t want to be an accessory to your crime. Emma didn’t win the first challenge�”actually, she fell into a ditch and got knocked unconscious, but she’s all right. My cousin Marina won the contest.

Right now, I’m a little worked up about career consultations, which we have tomorrow. I’ve already told you what I want to do for a job, but it might be a bit of a surprise to my Head of House.

--Jordan.
P.S. The football team is shaping up to be absolutely fantastic!

He pressed ‘send,’ and sat back in a haze of Quidditch-induced happiness.

* * * * * *

“Career advice wasn’t so bad,” sang Emma, bounding into the Common Room the next day. “I just told Mum that I wanted to be an Auror like Dad, and she made a few wisecracks, gave me the paperwork and qualifications, and bang! I was done!” She looked over toward Ivy. “You already had your consultation, right? You said you wanted to work in experimental charms?”

Her cousin nodded. She’d been even quieter than usual lately, and seemed to be studying more than ever. Her face looked pinched and nervous now, like it had the previous year during the stress from Malfoy’s escape. Her friends didn’t push her any further on the matter of career advice, as it seemed she had enough on her mind as it was.

“I had career advice already, too,” said Tyrone. “I just said, ‘Hey, I want to play pro Quidditch,’ and she gave me a huge lecture about how that’s a job, not a career, and that it would only last me a few years, less if I got injured, blah blah blah. Like I care! After I make it to the big leagues, I’ll be rich and famous, and I can retire early and buy a pet giraffe.”

Haley looked at her watch, which was pink and sparkly on a denim wristband. “It’s my turn to go,” she announced. “And Jordan’s after me. Well, I’m off… wish me luck, and let’s keep our fingers crossed that Aunt Hermione doesn’t pull a Zabini and tell me, ‘don’t even think about pursuing that career,’ and so on.” She got up from her armchair, where she’d been writing in Lee, and headed for Professor Granger-Weasley’s office.

It was, somehow, both a very long and a very short walk, and she was rather nervous by the time she got there. But her aunt greeted her with a smile. “Hello, Haley, have you thought about what you want to do after leaving Hogwarts?” she asked.

Haley took a seat opposite the professor’s desk and brushed a shiny strand of hair out of her face. “Yes, I have,” she said seriously, her voice vastly different from its usual high-pitched squeal. “I’m going to be an actor.”

Professor Granger-Weasley blinked at her. “Haley, this isn’t a time to discuss fantasies. You have to think about the real world and what you want to do. Not everything in life is a game�”sometimes you have to take things seriously.”

Haley stood up, drawing herself up proudly to her full height of five feet, one and a third inches. “Actually, I take acting very seriously. I’m prepared to work hard and do anything it takes to get there, and it’s not just a game. I’m growing up now, you know,” she stated in a clear, calm voice.
Now her aunt looked very surprised, rather pleasantly so, in fact. The truth was that Haley did not look her age, and she normally didn’t act it, either, so it was rather unsettling to see her being so mature about things. “Do you have any specific goals?” she asked after a pause.

“Yes, I do,” Haley replied smoothly. “I want to play Hamlet.”

Hermione swallowed a laugh. “Er, Haley, dear, you do realize that Hamlet was male, don’t you?”

The petite girl’s bright green eyes burned a passion that Hermione recognized and knew only too well: it was the look Harry got in his eyes when he was especially determined. And every time that Harry got that particular look in his eyes, it meant that there was absolutely no way that he would be swayed from following the course of action that he wanted to.

“Yeah, Hamlet’s a boy,” Haley stated. “I’d just have to be convincing. That’s why it’s called acting, isn’t it?”

Her aunt looked rather impressed. “Very well,” she said. “And good luck with your dreams.”

“Thank you.” Haley carried herself toward the door slowly and regally, her back straight and her head held high, as though she was the Queen of England. The second the door closed, however, she punched the air with her fist and twirled about like a mad top. Already, she felt like she was on her way to becoming a star, although she had only expressed this desire to one person besides Lee.

Seized with a spontaneous wave of energy, she raised her arms above her head and turned a row of cartwheels down the hallway… until she crashed headlong into somebody.

“Aagh! Sorry!” she screeched, helping the person up.

The person was Jordan. He glared at her, his lip curling in a classic gesture of sibling rivalry. “Grow up, Haley,” he muttered darkly. She simply smiled sweetly and skipped off down the hall, leaving him in front of the professor’s office.

“Jordan, sit down,” his aunt said kindly, gesturing toward the seat that his twin had just vacated. “Have you given any thought as to what you’d like to do for a career?”

Jordan had. He told her. She stared at him.

* * * * * *

“Ivy, we are going to have a girl talk, and you’re not going to complain, and you shall tell us everything,” Emma instructed in a theatrical manner, flopping herself at the foot of Ivy’s bed in the dormitory. She plucked the thick volume Ivy was reading (Advanced Transfiguration) out of her cousin’s hands and cast it aside. “Sorry, no studying until we’ve had a discussion,” she ordered.

“I have munchies for the heart, soul, and stomach,” Haley added poetically, brandishing bags from Honeydukes. “Ivy, we’re worried about you. Why are you so down?”

“It’s nothing important,” Ivy reassured the other girls. “Just me being stupid.”

“No, Ivy, ‘stupid’ is me cartwheeling into Jordan in the corridor,” Haley told her sister gently.

“Or Tyrone thinking he’s got a cool mustache when he’s really got about six fuzzy hairs on his upper lip,” Emma put in.

“Though you have to admit Tyrone’s mustache is kind of cute,” chipped in Haley.

“If you’re deranged and half-blind, that is,” finished Emma.

Ivy sighed and drew her light blue dressing gown around her. Her friends were unstoppable when it came to such things�”they could pry the secrets out of an Unspeakable, for the love of Merlin. “It’s Ted,” she told them baldly, avoiding their eyes. “He… well, I really, really like him.”

“We know,” chorused Haley and Emma in perfect unison. They grinned as if they just had indeed just pried the secrets out of an Unspeakable.

“That’s not the problem,” Ivy informed them, lying back down on her bed. “I think he’s got his eye on a Beauxbatons girl.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

Haley put a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “If that’s really the case�”in which case, Ted may one day soon wake up with a face covered in small but very angry crabs�”he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“You’re a great person,” Emma chimed in. “Smart, pretty, impractically nice… there are plenty of fish in the sea. Somebody’s going to fall for you soon.”

Ivy looked her full in the face now, tears welling up in her eyes despite the valiant fight she was putting up against them. “It’s not the idea of having a boyfriend that I’m attracted to,” she said in a small, hard voice. “It’s… Ted.”

Her friends exchanged glances, then buried her in a huge hug.

By December, Ivy had all but disappeared. She was so seldom seen or heard from that she might as well have been the Grey Lady. As improbable as it was, she was somehow studying more than ever.

It was in Herbology class when the Yule Ball that was to be held was first mentioned by a teacher (Professor Longbottom, to be specific), and once the rumours were confirmed, it was the only subject on everyone’s minds. Well, almost everyone, that is…

“There ought to be a law against giggling,” groused Jordan as he slouched down the corridor. “And I never want to experience the smell of nail polish again.” He was on a mission, a mission that would not make him very popular, but that he knew would prove right by the end.

“OPHELIA!” he shouted down the hallway. A girl with a brown ponytail and dark eyes whirled around from where she was gossiping with her friends, a rather irritated expression crossing her face.

“Yes?”

“We have practice! Our next game is in a few days, and Ravenclaw knows what they’re doing. You can discuss hair and makeup later.”

Ophelia Wood, although a year older and several inches taller than him, definitely looked frightened of her captain. “All right, I’ll be right there,” she agreed quickly.

“Good,” said Jordan, folding his arms fiercely, and he stalked away.

When Ophelia thought he was out of earshot, he heard her say to her friends, “You know my dad’s Oliver Wood, the big-league Quidditch star, right? Well, he’s totally manic about flying… but that Jordan Potter is even worse!”

Jordan smirked. He took that as a compliment.
* * * * * *


“Ivy, come look at the stuff we bought for the ball!” called Haley, dragging out the bags she’d purchased in Hogsmeade in November.

Ivy didn’t even look up from her book. “Maybe later, but I’ve got so much work to do,” she replied. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, her eyes ringed with grey.

“Come on, we got some stuff for you,” wheedled Emma.

“Oh, I hope not,” sighed Ivy. “If you did, then you can keep it. I don’t think I’m going to the ball.”

It was as though she had announced that she was planning to ride into the Great Hall stark naked on an elephant (which would also be stark naked) while singing “Twist and Shout.” The other girls froze�“Haley dropped her shopping bags, and Emma’s jaw fell to her chest like a python unhinging its jaw to swallow a whole pig. “You’re kidding, right?” squeaked Haley, in a faint voice. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Ivy shrugged. “Like I said, I have a lot of work to do. I’ll get really behind if I go to the ball.”

“You’re insane,” said Emma, shaking her head. “Absolutely insane. I swear, all of that work is going to kill you one of these days. But speaking of work, I have to do a bit of research about Hogwarts… anyone want to come help?”

Haley nodded, and tagged along behind her as she headed briskly through the corridors. They were discussing typical topics, until Haley realized, “Er, Emma, maybe you really do need to research Hogwarts, because this isn’t the way to the library.”

The Hogwarts champion grinned. “Ahhh, but I’m not going to the library,” she said. “I’m going to go see my mum.” She gestured, Vanna White-like, to the nearest door, then rapped on it four times.

As luck would have it, Hermione was indeed in her office, and she opened the door. “You aren’t in trouble again, are you?” she sighed.

Emma smiled. “No, Mum. I never thought I’d be saying this, and I’m probably the first person ever to, but I need to find out as much as possible about the school… so could I please borrow your copy of Hogwarts, A History?”

Her mother looked as though she was about to cry with happiness.
* * * * * *


Several days and one thorough scouring of Hogwarts, A History later, Emma realized that as close as the second task might be, another Triwizard task was looming even closer. She had to, as horrifying as the concept was, find someone to dance with at the Yule Ball. She’d never danced with a boy before�“she always said that if took all the fun out of going to a ball�“and she’d never asked out in her life. But as a champion, she couldn’t dance alone.

She began a mental compilation of people she wouldn’t mind asking, and discovered that her list had no names on it.

True, a few boys had already asked her to the ball, but she’d turned them down�“she hadn’t known any of them. They were mostly from other houses, or else older or younger or from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. The foreign students asking her made no sense to Emma, as she believed that they should have been supporting their own schools. She didn’t have much respect for those with no school spirit.

Who was there to take to the ball? Rupert Daniels from Hufflepuff had asked her, and seemed nice enough; he was a tad boring, but she just needed someone with whom she could get through one single dance. So why did she feel so reluctant? She didn’t know Rupert very well, and surely it would be much more fun to dance with someone with whom she was familiar.

“Hi, Em.” Tyrone Thomas settled down in the armchair next to hers, stretching out his long limbs leisurely. “What’s up?” Emma simply blinked. “What’s the matter? Kneazle got your tongue or something?”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that my tongue is perfectly all right,” Emma replied brightly. “But the Yule Ball’s coming up, and I’m a champion, I can’t dance alone. Do you, like, want to go with me? You know, as friends?”

She couldn’t believe she’d said it. It was like throwing Tyrone a bone�“they’d gotten to be friends, and they were fine. She knew that if she even slightly disturbed the status quo, Tyrone would misinterpret it as an opportunity for him to revert back to flirting with Emma nonstop.

Tyrone grinned his typical wide, white-toothed grin. “Well, thanks, but actually, I’ve already got a partner. If you want to apply for my waiting list, there are only twelve people ahead of you…” Typical Tyrone, thought Emma, feeling rather deflated. Well… this is anticlimactic.

“Oh,” said Emma. “Who are you going with, then?”

“Your cousin,” he said vaguely.

“Ooh, then that’ll be fun,” noted Emma. “We can hang out together during the ball. I’m guessing you mean Haley, not Jordan, right?” She chuckled mischievously at her own joke. Haley and Tyrone were two of the best dancers in the school, and Haley chose all of her dates by who was the most fun to dance with.

Tyrone raised his eyebrows. “Er… no, not Haley… Marina, from Beauxbatons. But it would be cool to hang out. You two get along pretty well, right?”

Emma stared at him, and if looks could inflict physical harm, Tyrone’s handsome face would have been violently slashed and shredded. “On second thought, you know, I’d rather not hang out with you and your date,” she snapped, getting to her feet and doing something that those familiar with Emma had seen her do on occasions too numerous to name�“she stormed away from Tyrone, her hair swirling emphatically behind her.

Tyrone. He never changed, the son of a Bludger, Emma thought furiously. All he cared about was having a pretty date�“and naturally, he’d pursued Emma for a few years, as she was quite good-looking and had always steadfastly turned him down before. She was the big fish that he hadn’t caught, a goal he wanted to reach. And now that Marina, prettier and older than Emma, had arrived, Emma was no longer good enough for Tyrone Thomas.

She had missed her chance, and now there was nothing she could do… but missed what chance? A chance for what? She was confusing herself not, and she wanted to rest, but she did still need a date for the dance�“someone other than the shallow, immature, self-absorbed boy that she couldn’t believe she had asked to the dance.

She stomped over to the far side of the Common Room, threw herself into an armchair, and let Hogwarts, A History slide onto the floor. Haley was already there, writing in a book of some sort. Her cousin glanced up at her, took in the expression of the face, and asked, “What’s eating you?”

“Tyrone.”

Haley couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, sounding uncannily like a dying loon.

“What’s so funny?” Emma asked darkly.

Haley’s giggles actually gave way to a loud snort, which Emma had been fairly certain only happened in fiction. “I’m sorry,” she choked. “But… how did Tyrone think you tasted?”

Emma glared at her. “Guess what? I don’t think that’s as funny as you do. Go tell it to Marina�“she can have a good laugh over it with her date, Tyrone.”

Haley stopped laughing immediately. “I’m really sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know! What’s wrong with the boys in our year lately?” She shook her head, causing her hair to dance around her shoulders. “I’m actually not taking a date this time around. I figure I’m not tied to one boy all night that way, you know? But Tyrone… whoa… I guess one-eighth veela blood is enough to distract him.”

“Apparently,” Emma agreed icily.

Haley put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re really bummed that you can’t go to the dance with him,” she said. “But�“”

“It isn’t the fact that I can’t go to the dance with Tyrone that’s annoying!” Emma interrupted loudly. “Why would I care about something like that? It’s just that he chose Marina, of all people! Boys are so dumb! And Tyrone’s even dumber than I gave him credit for.”

Haley looked skeptical. “So, you don’t care that you can’t go to the dance with Tyrone?” she asked, sounding rather uncertain.

Emma hesitated, then said in a rather soft, unsure voice, “I don’t know. I… I really don’t know. It’s strange… I mean, everyone knows he’s really full of himself and stuff, he obviously thinks he’s really cool, and that always got on my nerves, but sometimes… I don’t know… There are times… Well, like, last year, his mum died. And… it was so weird, I saw a whole different side to him. And then, we were friends, and that was really nice. Then, this year, I thought maybe he’d got a bit more mature or something, but it’s back to square one, with Tyrone going after all of the pretty girls again. And… I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“You said ‘I don’t know’ at least six times there,” Haley pointed out. Her expression changed to one that was a bit more serious. “So, if you really like Tyrone a lot�“”

“I never said that!” Emma exclaimed sharply.

“Yes, but I’m psychic,” Haley said matter-of-factly. “Also, it’s obvious.”

“Then your Inner Eye must be fogged up. I do not�“”

“You’re going to have to accept the fact that I am never wrong about these things, Emma Elizabeth Weasley,” chirped Haley. “But don’t worry, Tyrone will be kicking himself down the hall after the ball for being stupid enough not to go with you. You’ll find a date soon.”

But she didn’t, and it was ominously close to Christmas. On Christmas Eve, Emma sat down for breakfast at the Gryffindor table looking rather worried. She was sitting between the Potter twins with Ted on Jordan’s side�“Ivy was shut away in the dormitory studying like mad, and didn’t normally come to meals (her friends usually brought her food from the kitchens instead), and Tyrone was holding court at the other end of the table.

“They’re still not biting?” Ted asked, which was a slightly ironic statement for a werewolf to make.

Emma shook her head and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

“Actually,” began Haley, “I heard that Tyrone Thomas was eating h�“”

“Stop it,” said Emma flatly.

She was not in a fantastic mood, and so it probably wasn’t the best of times for Charybdis Nott to come striding by and comment, “So, I heard the Hogwarts champion can’t find a date. I guess the boys at this school have finally gotten wise. They know better than to ask you out�“you’re too mean to any poor soul who dares to ask you to dance. You don’t like boys, do you Weasley?”

Jordan laughed humourlessly. “If you want a definition of the word ‘mean,’ try looking in a mirror. Or a dictionary, under the entry ‘Charybdis Nott.’ Emma’s done nothing to you, and she didn’t intrude into your breakfast-time. Additionally, you don’t have to cope with all of the stress she’s going through what with the Tournament, and furthermore, you would never be selected to represent Hogwarts in a competition of the Triwizard’s caliber. So, logically speaking, you should leave us alone and give her a break,” he instructed in his flat, matter-of-fact voice.

Charybdis gaped like a codfish, and after opening and closing her mouth several times, realized she had nothing to say to that and scurried back to the Slytherin table.

Haley high-fived her brother. “I never though I’d say this,” she told him, “But that huge brain of yours can actually come in handy sometimes.”

“If only he used his powers for good,” Ted said with a grin.

Emma paused for a moment, seeming to consider something. “Jordan, do you have a date to the ball?” she asked.

Her cousin laughed a laugh so humourless that it would be illegal to call it a laugh in fourteen different countries. (If you’re reading this in one of those countries, then I most humbly apologize.) “Me? A date? If I had my way, there wouldn’t be a ball. It’s an idiotic tradition. Frankly, I’m more concerned with the Quidditch game later today.”

“That’s nice to know,” Emma replied. “So, want to go with me?”

Jordan blinked. “I’m your cousin.”

“Thanks for the genealogy lesson. I know that, you prat,” laughed Emma. “It’s not like I’m looking for a husband or anything. I just need someone to dance with me during the first number so I don’t look stupid dancing by myself, and I don’t know too many boys. If I find a dream date anytime soon, I’ll drop you like a hot potato, but I really need a date for this.”

“Comforting.” Jordan looked pained. “I suppose I’ll go with you, but only because I don’t even want to imagine seeing you in a worse mood. It’s too frightening to even contemplate.”

“Thoughtful,” commented Emma. She leaned back in her chair. “Well, I’m glad that’s done with.”
* * * * * *


There was a Quidditch game later that day, but as much as she wanted to, Ivy couldn’t attend. She had so much work to do, and she hoped to finish it that night if she was lucky. She knew she would hear a detailed account of the action from her friends, but her brother would kill her for missing his game.

He had become more obsessed with his team than anyone would have thought possible; it was actually quite funny to watch him shout at his team members, as he tended to do this even off of the pitch. Just hearing about the brutally grueling Gryffindor team practices made Ivy very glad that she could fly about as well as a penguin.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, which were tired and crusty from staring at a book so much and sleeping so little. She left a smudge of blue ink on her cheek due to the fact that her hands were splattered with the stuff. There were times when all of the work she was doing made her wish that she could just give up, but Ivy Potter was not a quitter, and she could handle this. But when sleep was what she most looked forward to, then something was wrong.

“WE WON!” screeched Haley as she vaulted into the dormitory wearing a fashionable red-and gold messenger hat and sporting red-and-gold sequins on one of her multitudinous pockety jackets. “For once in my life, I’m really glad that Jordan’s my baby brother. He missed you at the game today, Ives.”

Ivy smiled wearily. “Nice jacket,” was all she said.

“I know, isn’t it?” exclaimed her sister. “I’m so good at this whole magical seamstress thing. Maybe I should get a part-time job at Madame Malkin’s robe shop when I’m a bit older.”

Emma arrived just after her cousin, decked out in red-and-gold paint and a red-and-gold scarf. “That game was officially the best ever!” she shouted. “I can’t believe you missed it! All I can say is, I’m glad that they kept doing Quidditch this year, even with the Tournament. We flattened Ravenclaw!”

“That’s always nice to hear,” replied Ivy. “I bet now some of the other girls are jealous of you for taking the Gryffindor captain to the ball, then?”

Emma’s smile disappeared as though someone had just used the ‘Evanesco’ spell on it. She sat on her bed and curled her legs up into a ball. “I keep thinking back to what Charybdis Nott said earlier today,” she sighed. She looked up at her friends. “Am I mean?” she asked softly.

Her two dorm-mates stared. “Of-of course not!” stammered Ivy. “You’re one of the best friends anyone could hope for.”

Emma’s face looked tense and upset, uncommon for the girl whose eyes so often flashed with confidence and determination. “You’re saying that to me now,” she told her. “But what about first year? I treated you like scum.”

Ivy looked very uncomfortable. “That was different,” she said. “You didn’t know me yet. All you knew was that I was Draco Malfoy’s daughter. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I made you cry,” Emma stated flatly. “A lot. I didn’t even talk to Haley for a week because she made friends with you. And last year, I made Tyrone cry, of all people.”

“You didn’t know his mum had died!” exclaimed Haley. “It was a simple mistake, anyone could have made it!”

Her cousin raised one eyebrow, a habit that would normally cause Haley to attack her, but that went unnoticed at this time. “Not ‘anyone’ can make Tyrone Thomas cry,” she stated. “He may be a lot of things, but a crybaby definitely isn’t one of them. I’m as bad as Charybdis Nott, which really is saying something.” She looked as defeated as a deflated balloon.

“No, you’re not!” protested Haley. “You… you just like to speak your mind. You’re, what do you call it, frank. Blunt. Whatever.” She wasn’t used to bolstering Emma’s confidence�“it had never needed bolstering before.

“Your dad’s kind of like that, too,” pointed out Ivy. “You’re both really good people, but you’ve both got tempers, and you act before you think. It’s how you are, Emma, and we like you for it. I wish I could be more like you sometimes.”

Emma smiled. “Thanks,” she told the other two girls. “You’re both awesome. But, yeah, that doesn’t change the fact that I can really be a git sometimes. Um, sometime in the next few years, I predict you’re going to want my head on a platter thanks to something stupid that I’m going to do. I apologize in advance.”

“Apology accepted,” grinned Haley, bopping her on the head with a pillow.
* * * * * *


But although the girls had returned to their dormitory early, Ted stayed out late, and even an hour later, he was still strolling around the corridors. It wasn’t yet lights-out, and he liked to let his mind and feet wander. It took him several minutes to realize that he wasn’t alone in the hallway. He turned and saw, her ivory face illuminated by her lit wand tip, Arden DuBois.

“Hi,” he greeted her cheerily.

“Hello, Theo,” she whispered. She was acting shy and nervous around him again, like she had when they’d first met, and Ted couldn’t help but wonder what was troubling her.

“Did you see the Quidditch match today?” he inquired politely.

“Yes, I did. Your friend Jordan flies very beautifully,” replied Arden. “I sketched a picture of him going into a dive.”

“Well, if you bring it next full moon, I can take it and give it to Jordan. I bet he’d really like it,” Ted told her.

Arden smiled, looking like a ghost in the pale light of her wand. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and drew a hand through her curly hair. Something was clearly bothering her.

“Is something the matter?” prompted Ted. “I promise I won’t laugh at you.”

Arden took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes. (This was more difficult than it sounds, because Ted towered over the petite girl by over a foot.) “Theo,” she whispered, her voice abandoning her. “You are always kind, and I do like talking to you. Could you perhaps… if you do not want to, you do not have to… could you, er, go to… to the Yule Ball with me?”

Ted hadn’t expected her question. Arden didn’t strike him as the sort of girl who would ask out a boy. He opened his mouth to speak, when the unmistakable chiming of the clock signaling curfew went off.

Arden looked panicked. “Madame Maxime will be locking the carriage in a few minutes! I will speak with you tomorrow, Theo!” cried Arden, pulling her cloak around herself and sprinting down the hallway toward her sleeping quarters.

Ted, however, did not. In fact, he headed in the opposite direction from Gryffindor Tower and made his way toward the west corridor on the same floor. There�“he had reached the room he had intended to. The door was covered in ornate carvings, and the plate on it was engraved, “PROF. R.J. LUPIN, DEFENCE INSTRUCTOR.” It was his father’s personal office.

He rapped sharply on the door, and his mildly surprised-looking father opened it. “Ted,” he noted with a smile. “I guess there’s no point in telling you it’s after curfew. Come in�“do you want any tea?”

“No thanks, Dad,” replied his son, stepping inside following Professor Lupin to a table. Ted resembled his father�“though Professor Lupin had grey hair and his face was lined, the older that Ted got, the more he grew to look like him. Ted, however, was already several inches taller than his father.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” asked Professor Lupin. “If it’s about the essay on Manticores, I’m sorry about assigning homework over break, but it is your O.W.L.s year, and…”

“It’s not about school!” laughed Ted. “You’re not just my teacher! You’re my dad, too, remember?”

“Yes, I seem to remember having children at some point,” Professor Lupin said lightly. “Anyway, I’m sorry, keep going.”

Ted looked rather sheepish. “I wanted some advice on something,” he mumbled. “What do you do when you have to choose between two girls and you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings?”

Professor Lupin laughed. “Ted, I have no idea what to say. I can’t say I’ve ever had that problem, actually.” He surveyed his son over his mug of tea. “So two different girls asked you to the ball?”

“Actually, no,” admitted Ted. “One asked me… and, er, I was kind of hoping it would be the other one.”

His father raised his eyebrows. “Then ask the other one,” he replied simply.

Ted sighed. “But I don’t want to be selfish!” he insisted. “And I don’t even know if the other girl would want to go with me.”

Professor Lupin took a long drink of tea. “Ted, you know, it’s impossible to always please everyone. It’s admirable to put your friends before you, but sometimes, when you try to please everyone, you end up not pleasing anyone.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re too much like me sometimes. I always wanted to make everyone happy,” explained Professor Lupin, sighing as he reclined in his chair. “And then, I fell in love with a girl who was beautiful, funny, intelligent, great fun… I told myself that there was no way she’d ever be happy with a creature like me, so I ignored her for her sake... and also so I wouldn’t have to go through the pain of rejection. After all, at that time, no werewolf had ever gotten married after being bitten.”

Ted had never known this about his father�“Remus Lupin was a happy man, and Ted always forgot about his tragic past. “What happened?” he asked anxiously.

His father smiled. “Well, after I made both of us absolutely miserable for over a year, the girl informed me how stupid I was being and knocked some sense into me, and then we got married and had Christina and Nathaniel and you.”

Ted couldn’t believe his father ever dreamed that his mother would never love him because he was a werewolf. It seemed that Ted was the only werewolf around these days who didn’t have self-esteem issues. “Well, that doesn’t actually make me feel much better,” said Ted, “because the girl who asked me, well, she’s a werewolf, and she’s really shy. She doesn’t even think of herself as human�“she thinks she’s a monster. It’s so sad�“I can’t believe she actually asked me, she’s so shy. So I’d feel really bad about turning her down.”

Professor Lupin shook his head and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’re growing up so fast,” he told him. “It seems like just yesterday, you were a little boy, and now we’re talking about girls... Don’t worry about it. I’m very proud of you.”

“For what?” asked Ted, somewhat bewildered.

“Just for being who you are,” replied his father. “However,” he paused, then added, “you really should get back to the dormitory before Andreas Gauge catches you out of bed.”

“That is a spectacular plan, Dad,” Ted told him. “G’night.”

“Goodnight, Ted.”

True, it would be horrible to be caught by Gauge, the caretaker who played with detention assignments like some people played with cards. He wished he’d thought to ask Haley for her invisibility cloak… if he was caught, he’d live to regret it (if, in fact, he did live) and the dormitory was a long ways away.

But then again, he had the strangest sense that someone else was there, that he wasn’t alone in the corridor… and this time it wasn’t Arden DuBois. He didn’t look behind him, convinced that his paranoid mind was playing tricks on him. If it was Gauge, he would have been spotted already; the man had eyes like a hawk.

CREAK! His head snapped around, and he froze. He had definitely heard someone or something… “Who’s there?”

He turned around and faced the person behind him.
* * * * * *


Haley rolled over in bed. She’d just woken up from a brief hour or so of sleep… had she been dreaming? Oh, yes, that’s right, it had been a dream; that’s why Tyrone had been wearing a leather miniskirt. Haley threw on her dressing gown and was getting out of bed to get herself a quick glass of water from the bathroom when she noticed it…

Ivy’s bed was empty. Her sister wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
* * * * * *


Ivy grinned, although no one could see her. She was done! She was finally done, and all of her hard work had paid off! She would have turned cartwheels, had she any gymnastic talent or any idea how cartwheels were performed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling, and she looked more alive than she had in a long time. She hadn’t felt so proud since she’d won the Albus Dumbledore Award the previous year.

She was just making her way back to Gryffindor Tower, when she heard a noise in the corridor ahead of her. Oh no, why hadn’t she borrowed Haley’s Invisibility Cloak? Wouldn’t it be just lovely if she was caught by Gauge and given detention on this night of all nights?

Light from a wand tip flooded her eyes, and a male voice called, “Who’s there?”

Ivy froze, planning to run and hide, then realized that she knew that voice. It was Ted. “Ivy?” he exclaimed, making his way over toward her. He was, she noticed, still in his day clothes, while Ivy was, rather embarrassingly, wearing a light blue dressing gown, fluffy blue slippers, and white nightdress.

“Ted… what are you doing up?” Ivy asked, somewhat flustered.

“You know how I told you I have weird dreams?” he asked. “Well, I had one of them, and it wasn’t the best dream I’ve ever had, so I went and talked to my dad. But what are you doing up?”

Ivy blinked. “I, er, felt really guilty because I had a book due, and I had to return it to the library on time, or I’d never be able to sleep.” This was a lie, and she had a feeling that her perceptive and observant friend knew this, but he didn’t press her any further.

“Come on,” he suggested. “Let’s get to Gryffindor Tower before we get caught.”

Ivy thought this an extremely sensible suggestion, and she had every intention of going through with it… but suddenly, she heard shallow breathing, and the creaking of floorboards echoed through the hallway, and she froze in fear.

“It’s Gauge! Hide!” Ted hissed, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of sight into a nearby room, taking care to close the door behind him.

“Lumos!” Ivy whispered, and she could see now that she and Ted were not in an unused classroom after all, but in a closet. By the looks of the accumulated cobwebs and dust, it hadn’t been used in awhile.

“You’re going to want to turn off the light,” suggested Ted. “If Gauge sees light at the crack at the bottom of the door, we’re done for.”

“Good point. Nox.”

The light vanished, and the closet filled with darkness. It was so pitch black that Ivy couldn’t even make out where Ted was, and that was somehow frightening. Who knew for sure that there was nothing threatening waiting in the dark? The two of them sat without speaking for what seemed like an eternity before Ted’s voice broke through the silence.

“You know, today’s the one-year anniversary of me being a werewolf.”

Ivy was sure that the grammar in the previous sentence was somehow slightly askew, but she thought perhaps it wasn’t the best of ideas to point it out.

“You were really cool that day in the hospital,” he continued. “I mean, you just treated me the same as always. I never really said thanks, but I think it’s pretty much because of you that I don’t worry about being a werewolf, you know? I was just like, ‘if Ivy’s fine with it, then I’ve got no reason to worry.’ Some people aren’t so lucky.”

Ivy couldn’t think of anything to say to that. As strange as it sounded, half the time, she practically forgot that Ted was even a werewolf�“it wasn’t something that tended to come up in everyday conversation. And she had no idea why he was bringing this up now.

“Look, Ivy, you’ve been really quiet lately. Talk to me�“what’s wrong?” he asked in his easy, friendly voice.

Ivy would have stared at him, except for the fact that she was unable to see him in the dark. For someone who was usually so good with feelings, hadn’t Ted realized that maybe she would be upset about his relationship with Arden?

“Ted…” she started out slowly, keeping her voice soft and delicate. “Why are you still pretending you care at all about me now that you’ve got Arden? You don’t need to sacrifice the time you could spend with her just to be polite.”

She heard Ted make an uncomfortable stuttering noise in the dark. “What… how…” he reached for her hand and found it after a few seconds. Ivy started to pull away, but something about the warmth of Ted’s hands and his voice stopped her. “I don’t know what made you think that I don’t care about you. I mean, it’s true that I like Arden… but as a friend. You’re… you’re different. You’re just...you’re Ivy. I like being around you.”

“Then… why haven’t you lately?” Ivy asked very quietly, her eyes downcast. If he thought she was so special, why did he spend so much spare time with Arden.

“Oh, man… I can’t explain this. Arden… well, she has a… she… I have to help her with something, and she’s made me swear not to tell anybody. I really would tell you, but I promised Arden...But you have to believe me�“I’d never, ever forget about you, and I’d never, ever ignore you for anyone else. You know me.” And his voice was so persuasive and so comforting that Ivy had no choice but to believe him, no matter how hard she tried to trust her cynical side.

“I know you don’t want to upset me and everything,” she whispered. “But… is that really how you feel, or are you just trying to convince yourself that it is because you feel sorry for me?”

She could feel Ted’s breath on her face. (Lucky for her, it was minty-fresh.) “Listen, Ivy, if I didn’t care about you like that, would I want to do this as much as I do now?”

And before Ivy knew what was happening, there was something soft and warm touching her lips. It was a second or two before she realized that it was Ted’s mouth, and her first thought was, It’s really dark�“I’m surprised he didn’t miss.

Then, it hit her that Ted was kissing her�“she was kissing Ted, something that she’d always secretly hoped for but had never been able to imagine coming true. It wasn’t anything like she’d expected, either�“there was nothing wet or mushy about it, and she knew she’d never be able to explain why it was so enjoyable to be there with Ted, sharing that comforting closeness with him…

Suddenly, the small closet was flooded with light. Standing in the doorway was none other than Professor Zabini, holding a lit wand and wearing a disgusted expression. “I suppose I was expecting this to happen sometime sooner or later,” he sneered. “Ten points from Gryffindor each.”

But Ivy thought she saw his sneer twist into a half-smile, and then he did something totally unexpected. He gently closed the closet door and walked away.
* * * * * *


Ivy blushed as she came to the end of her tale the next morning. Haley giggled uncontrollably, and Emma looked as though someone had just lit a candle inside her head. “So THAT’s why Gryffindor’s behind twenty points!” she exclaimed. “Aw, man, who’d have thunk it?” She pretended to kiss her pillow. “Our little Prefect pair, snogging in the closet!”

Ivy blushed even more furiously. “We were not snogging!” she protested. “Whatever that’s supposed to mean. We were just, er, kissing!”

“Seriously, though,” said Haley, slightly hypocritically, as she was giggling uncontrollably. “What’s going to happen now? You two can hardly go about telling everyone that you’re just friends after this.”

“Well,” said Ivy quietly. “Ted’s asked me to, you know, go out with him. And we’re going to the Yule Ball together.”

Emma snorted. “Ohohoho! You didn’t want to go to the ball because you had studying to do. But now that your loverboy has asked you, you’re perfectly keen on going, is that it?”

“Actually, I won’t be doing quite as much studying from now on,” Ivy said vaguely. Her face looked much more alive than it had for months.

Haley grinned and stated, “Ivy, if only your first-year self could see you now. Would anyone have guessed that you’d be the first one of us to have a real boyfriend?” She hugged her sister. “You and Ted are so adorable together, I can’t believe it!” She jumped up. “Oh, which reminds me, as it’s Christmas, I have a present for you. It’s stuff for the ball�“I never did return it, even when you said you weren’t going. I didn’t believe that for a second, knowing you and your raging teen hormones.”

Ivy laughed, thinking of how absurd it was for anyone to use the words ‘Ivy Potter’ and ‘raging’ in the same sentence. She felt light and carefree, and it seemed like everything she had worried about had evaporated all at once. “The ball’s not ‘till tonight,” she pointed out. “Let’s get some breakfast first.”

The others decided that this was probably an ideal suggestion, so the threesome headed down to the Great Hall for their morning meal. But as they left the Common Room, two unexpected figures emerged from the boys’ dormitory. One was on the small side with messy black hair, and the other was tall and gangly with shaggy hair and a good-natured if tired-looking face.

It was the second of the two that caught Ivy’s eye�“it was so strange to look at Ted, almost as if he’d changed. She was no longer just looking at a friend; she was looking at someone who she knew cared about her and appreciated her as much as she did him.

“Hi,” Ted said, beaming. His voice did something rather unique, something that it hadn’t done since it had finally finished changing at the end of the previous school year.

“Hi,” replied Ivy, gingerly taking his hand. This was all new to her, but at the same time, it all felt completely natural.

Jordan rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Have I missed something?” he asked in his trademark deadpan manner.

Ivy and Ted exchanged glances, mentally making bets on how many inches Jordan’s eyeballs would bug out from their sockets after hearing their story.

* * * * * *


That night, the girls were preparing themselves for the ball. Ivy was just about to pull on her silvery dress robes when Emma snatched the robes out of her hands with a reproachful wag of the finger. “Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” she admonished her friend firmly. “You do not wear the same thing to a ball two years in a row. Besides, look what Haley and I bought!”

Haley removed something from a shopping bag with a flourish. It was a Muggle dress, pure white and sparkly with a full, knee-length skirt and thin straps instead of sleeves. It was a beautiful dress, no doubt about it… but Ivy couldn’t possibly wear it.

“I… I can’t go out in public in that!” she spluttered. “It’s got about a fourth of the material in my dress robes!”

Emma laughed. “Oh, Ivy, you sound just like my dad. He’s always talking about what he thinks is ‘appropriate’ for ‘a girl my age’ to wear.” She laughed. “Trust us, though, you’ll look fabulous.”

“I can’t…”

“Just put it on,” encouraged Haley. “If you don’t like the way it looks on you, you can always change.”

Ivy sighed and pulled on the dress, knowing that she’d look like a fool in it, a girl playing dress-up and trying to be something that she wasn’t. She zipped up the back and said uncomfortably, “There, I’m wearing it. Can I please change now? This is a really nice dress, and it was great of you to buy it, but it’s just not right for me.”

Haley looked at her sister in the new dress and squealed in girlish delight. “You… look… fantastic! Go on, look in the mirror, come on!” she encouraged, giving her sister a little push.

Ivy stumbled over to the full-length mirror and went silent. The dress fit perfectly, and she didn’t look the least bit silly�“she really did look nice. Ivy was not the sort who spent a lot of time on her appearance, and it was incredibly how much difference one dress made.

Emma removed the rubber band from the end of Ivy’s plait and unbraided her hair. It fell in soft, waist-length waves of white blonde, and her not-quite-grown-out fringe framed her face softly. “Why do you never wear your hair down?” Emma inquired. “It looks so pretty that way.”

The girl whose hair was in question hesitated, then said quietly, “If you really want to know why I never wear my hair down… well, I guess I’ll tell you, but you’ll laugh at me. When I was little and my hair had never been cut, my Nana used to braid it to keep it neat.

“But my father�“Malfoy, that is�“didn’t like that because he said that I had the prettiest hair he’d ever seen on a little girl, and that I should always wear it down. The last thing he said to me before he went out to blow up St. Mungo’s was, ‘Ivy-girl, I might be gone for awhile. Be good for Mummy�“you always are�“and tell Nana to fix your hair like Daddy likes it. I love you, Angel…’” her voice trailed off. “Don’t ask me how I remember all of that… but that’s what he said.”

There was an awkward pause. “Wow,” Haley said simply. “I, er, guess that explains a lot. But seriously, you can’t go through life avoiding everything Malfoy liked�“I mean, what if he told you not to chew with your mouth open? What would you do then?”

Ivy smiled. “I guess you’re right… but, I mean, braiding my hair really does keep it out of the way. I don’t like to spend as much time as you do on clothes and hair and things.”

“I noticed,” Emma put in. “It’s almost like you’re scared to look pretty.”

“I’m not scared of looking pretty,” her cousin protested. “I just… I’m a bit more conservative, you could say. I don’t like to show off�“I’m not saying you two do,” she added quickly. “But you know how I am.”

“Luckily, we’re here to fix that!” Haley cackled, brandishing an ominous-looking blush brush.

“Myesss,” added Emma, equally evilly. “Ready?”

“Yep,” chirped Haley.

And they attacked Ivy with makeup, something she was not at all used to wearing. “What are you doing?” choked Ivy. “I don’t need this!”

“It’ll just make you a bit more attractive,” explained Emma. “You can’t wear that gorgeous dress without the proper makeup.”

“But I don’t want to be more ‘attractive,’” Ivy protested. “I don’t see what the object of this is. Ted already said he liked me, and I wasn’t wearing any of this makeup then! If you�“ow, what are you doing to my eyes?”

“It’s called mascara, dear,” Haley informed her crisply. “And the ‘object,’ of this,” she continued, putting ‘air quotes’ around the word ‘object,’ “is that it’s fun for me and Emma!”

“I think that would be ‘Emma and me,’” Ivy told her feebly as Haley held up a mirror. All thoughts of grammar, however, flew from her head when she saw her reflection.

This girl’s face was not strained and pinched with puffy dark bags under her eyes�“her cheeks were a delicate rosy shade, and her eyes suddenly stood out brightly against her slightly darkened eyelashes. Her lips were subtly pink-tinted, and they somehow appeared less thin, maybe because they weren’t tight with concentration as usual.

The makeup wasn’t too much�“it enhanced her face rather than simply painting it, unlike some girls’ makeup. For the first time in her life, Ivy actually felt beautiful. She knew she’d never been ugly, but there was nothing special about her�“she was just a pale, fragile-looking wisp of a girl.

Emma whistled. “Ooh la la! Look out, Marina, here comes Ivy Potter! It looks like you’ve got some competition.”

Ivy smiled shyly. “I just want you to know, this looks nice and everything, but I don’t plan on wearing any of this makeup in the future, unless it’s a really special occasion. It’s not really me.”

“Each to her own,” shrugged Haley. “You’ll know when you’re ready, just like how you’ll know which wand is right. Only, like, not…” She was dressed in pink kimono-style robes that somehow made her look taller than usual, and her hair was elegantly coiled atop her head.

Emma checked her watch. “It’s almost time,” she noted. “Let’s get out there and break some hearts.” Her robes were flowing maroon and distinctly classical-looking with lacy trim. She knew her father would not approve of the lacy maroon robes (too many bad memories for him, as he’d had to endure a set of his own) and the low-cut neckline, but the robes suited her perfectly. She looked like a portrait from the 1700’s.

The girls walked out of the dormitory together, Ivy somewhat cautiously in her new dress. They met up with the boys in the Common Room, where Emma was extremely displeased to see that Jordan had broken the cardinal rule of never wearing the same dress robes two years in a row.

“I remember, Jordan,” she told her date sternly. “They’re the exact same dark green robes. For someone so smart, you don’t understand some of the simplest things.”

“I don’t think the rule applies to blokes,” laughed Ted, who nonetheless was wearing a different set of robes from the previous year, since his old ones were now much too short. He and Ivy matched rather well, as his new robes were a soft white. He’d also added a rather ugly red Muggle necktie with white polka-dots that somehow suited him perfectly�“it was just pleasantly cheesy, like Ted.

As the five of them descended toward the Great Hall together, they passed countless students dressed in their finest robes, all just as excited as they were.

The Great Hall was a breathtaking ice palace that sparkled with ice sculptures, icicles, and magical snowflakes suspended in the air. Ivy waved at her father, who was there in his capacity as a Triwizard judge and security advisor, then took a seat at a long banquet table with Ted. She looked up expectantly at her other friends. “Aren’t you going to sit with us?” she asked.

“Emma has to sit at the champions’ table,” Jordan replied flatly. “And I, as her date, have been sucked into it.”

“And I have to, er, go do something,” Haley added rather cryptically.

“Well, we’ll see you lot after the feast, I guess,” Ted said pleasantly. Ivy couldn’t help but feel slightly, selfishly glad that her other friends couldn’t join her�“this ball was something of a turning point for her. She and Ted had done lots of things together, and had gone to the previous year’s ball with each other, but never officially as more than friends, and she felt that she didn’t get to spend as much time with just him as she’d like.

She didn’t talk much during the feast, but she enjoyed the company and conversation of the other students in her year. She was getting so many compliments on the way she looked�“not for her grades or accomplishments or any of the things of which she was usually proud. Although it was fun and exciting to be recognized for her appearance and although it was always entertaining to get giggly and girly with Haley and Emma sometimes, she wasn’t sure she liked it�“she just wasn’t that type of person, and it didn’t feel like it was really her.

Of course, she was also one of the last people she could ever imagine kissing a boy in a broom closet…

And the feast seemed to go by ridiculously fast, because before she knew it, the tables were pushed back to make room for dancing, and the three champions and their partners made their way toward the centre.

Emma and Jordan (the latter looking rather green) were the first on the dance floor, followed by Marina and Tyrone, Marina dressed in black robes with an asymmetrical hem and Tyrone in robes of bright crimson red. The last of the champions to begin to dance was the navy-blue-robed Vladislav, who was dancing with… Haley?

“I thought she wasn’t going to take a date this year!” exclaimed Ivy. She was really quite confused by this, but then, Haley loved any sort of performing arts and would never miss a chance to dance. With Vladislav Poliakoff, though? Haley had always commented about how he had a severe deficiency in the sense-of-humour department, and she tended to call him ‘Vladiwhatsit’ or ‘Vladithingummy.’ What was this all about?

Still, Ivy didn’t dwell on the matter. Haley had always been a bit quirky, so what else was new? And then, the next song began, and the rest of the students flooded the dance floor.

Ivy was not a particularly gifted dancer, and gawky Ted, constantly tripping over his own feet and stepping on Ivy’s, was even worse�“but that didn’t really matter. It was just fun dancing, enjoying the music, and making self-deprecating comments about their lack of grace. Ivy was surprised that the way she felt with Ted was the same as ever.

She’d known Ted, been his friend for over four years, and the only thing that had changed was the feeling that she could be completely without abandon with him now. She felt relaxed and happy that Ted was as fond of her as she was of him. It was a good feeling to have. She moved closer to him, feeling his warmth.

“Don’t look now,” murmured Ted, “But it looks like your dad and Emma’s mum are having a chat that involves a lot of pointing at me and you.”

“Ah,” replied Ivy. “I think the broom closet story’s been circulating around the staff.”

“They probably passed out leaflets with the story and pictures,” agreed Ted. “C’mon, let’s go get some punch or something.”

While at the punch bowl, reliving extremely fond memories of a third-year Jordan dumping a bowl of punch over the heads of Ophidias Malfoy and Charybdis Nott, they were approached by none other than Ivy’s father.

“Hello,” he greeted them. “Happy Christmas!” He then lowered his voice. “I heard a rather interesting story…” he began.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t the one about the ogre that walks into a bar?” Ted asked feebly.

“Not that one,” Mr. Potter informed him lightly. “All I have to say is, the Room of Requirement works a bit better than your average closet. Smells better, too.” Ivy felt her cheeks redden. “On a completely unrelated subject, your clothes are kind of different.”

“The dress was a present from Haley,” Ivy told her dad. “Apparently, Muggle clothes are in. I didn’t really want to wear it, but I was peer-pressured into it.”

“The tie was from Haley, too,” added Ted. “I kind of like it.”

Mr. Potter blinked. “So, you’re not making a political statement or anything?”

“About neckties?” Ted asked, laughing incredulously.

“Well, Tancred Apple has this theory that robes are outdated, and they’re just another sign of the racist attitude toward Muggles or something. He says we should all wear Muggle clothes, and so he and his supporters all do it. Hermione told me that some seventh-year Ravenclaw got in trouble for refusing to wear their uniforms… I was just curious to see if you were that interested in Apple’s politics, it’s nothing important.” He smiled. “And I really do like your tie, Ted. Have fun.” And with that, he was off.

So Apple liked Muggle clothes? It was an interesting thought. Ivy and the other teenaged wizards and witches she knew wore a lot of Muggle clothes, but most adults exclusively most wore robes. Evadne Schiffington, the Triwizard judge, dressed Muggle though�“that must have been why. It was an interesting thought, Apple’s, even if it was a bit radical. The man had some good ideas. Why am I thinking about politics now of all times? she thought to herself. This is a ball!

“Want to dance another song?” asked Ivy, and Ted took her hand. As they walked past the doorway, Ted spotted something out of the corner of his eye. A petite girl with dark, curly hair and deep blue robes matching her eyes, was running away down the hall, sobbing quietly to herself.
* * * * * *


“What a night!” exclaimed Haley, falling back onto her bed after easing her feet out of her uncomfortable shoes. “I danced with four boys! Four!”

“Hey, I’m just wondering, since when were you Vladislav Poliokoff’s date?” asked Emma.

Haley pulled the pins out of her hair and shook it loose. “Well, when the feast started, I saw he didn’t have a date, and I felt really bad because I saw how freaked out you were about not having a date, so I asked him. He’s not a bad dancer, I guess. A bit stiff, though.”

Emma was rather surprised. Haley suddenly seemed to have that elusive, Teddish gift for understanding emotions and approaching them properly that Emma herself had never really been able to master. Her cousin was also working harder this year�“she’d always been a complete slacker, but now, she was actually seen holding a book from time to time, and she even appeared to be paying some attention in class.

Haley still spent much of her time giggling with Emma, but all of a sudden, for the first time ever, Emma felt like the less mature of the two. Less mature than Ivy as well, who had a boyfriend and whose strict ethical ideals and willpower to keep working were an inch short of insanity, as far as Emma was concerned.

Meanwhile, during this contemplative pause on her cousin’s behalf, Haley pulled out Lee and wrote:

“Greetings again, Lee!”

“Hi, Haley. How was the ball?”

“One word�“awesometastical.”

“I’m fairly certain that that’s not a word.”

“Well, it is now. Anyway, I asked Vladislav. He looked really sad.”

“About you asking him?”

“No! He looked sad because he didn’t have a date, so I asked him to go with me, you psycho! Ivy and Ted are still out dancing, but me and Emma came up because we were tired�“did I tell you that Ivy and Ted are dating?”

“No, you didn’t! That’s interesting!”

“They were caught kissing in a broom closet.”

“HAHAHAHAHA! Now, that’s interesting. Are we talking about the same IVY POTTER and TED LUPIN that I think we are here?”

“Yep. I’m pretty sure that they weren’t possessed or anything at the time.”

“That’s crazy! If I had I nose, I probably would have just snorted milk out of it. Somehow, from what you’ve told me about those two, I can’t imagine it.”

“Well, me either! Anyway, I think Emma’s a little ticked off because of Tyrone. See, last year, they were fighting, but then they sort of got to be friends again after last year’s ball, so that was all cool and stuff, but this year, that didn’t happen.”

“Emma’s having a lousy year.”

“Yeah, I’m actually glad I’m not in the tournament! She’s cracking, and this is Emma we’re talking about�“she’s the toughest person I know. I’d be dead by now, I think.”

“Ah, that’s an exaggeration. More like grievously maimed, I’d say.”

“Thanks for your support, Lee.”

“Any time, Haley.”

“Good night.”

“Nighty-night.”
* * * * * *


Jordan was typing an email message to Giorgi, something that he tended to do frequently whether he wanted to or not. It just sort of seemed to happen.

To: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
From: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk.
Subj: Tonight
Message:

Hello, Giorgi,

Happy Christmas! I got some fantastic presents today�“really interesting books (That is not an oxymoron, I’ll have you know), some football equipment, some Beatles music I can play on my guitar… I’ve always thought that Christmas is a rather overly commercialized holiday, but there are some things about it that I definitely like.

One of them is NOT, however, going to the Yule Ball with Emma. She needed someone to dance with, so I’m afraid she forced me into doing it. I should have found a date so I’d have an alibi. It was a terrifying experience, and I’m sure I’m scarred for life.

Meanwhile, my friend and roommate Ted has been snogging my sister in broom closets, and I found out after absolutely everyone else, including Professor Zabini. Charming. I don’t think I’ll be able to get the repulsive image out of my mind for weeks, and in the mean time, I won’t sleep a wink.

Who winks when they sleep, anyway? I loathe figures of speech. They’re so illogical, and half the time, they make you sound like somebody’s grandmother.

By the way, did I mention that WE WON THE FOOTBALL MATCH BY A TRULY MASSIVE MARGIN?
Cheers,
Jordan

He pressed ‘send’ and sighed. All of this ball stuff was ridiculous, overwhelming, a waste of life. He was indescribably glad that he only had to live through one ball a year.

As the year progressed and slogged onward through February, everyone was practically buried in schoolwork. O.W.L.s testing was set for June, and the teachers all seemed to realize as one that the school year was over halfway through and compensated by piling on the work.

As a result, the only person who wasn’t studying more than ever before was Ivy, who was extremely disciplined with her O.W.L.s studying, but seemed to have dropped the exhaustive studying that had consumed all of her time before. Because of this (and a few other reasons, which may have started with a ‘T’ and ended with an ‘ed’), she was much happier and livelier than before.

Speaking of Ted, that night was a full moon, and he was feeling rather nervous. This had absolutely nothing to do with transformation and absolutely everything to do with facing Arden. She’d had a nasty stomach virus the previous month and spent her transformation in a closed-off section of the hospital wing, but Ted now had no way to avoid her.

He felt horribly guilty just remembering the anguish in the girl’s voice as she had fled, sobbing, down the hallway at the Yule Ball, and because of him. It just didn’t seem right. He was Ted Lupin, the one who always made everyone feel better, the nice one. How could he have made a girl cry?

But how could he have pleased both Arden and Ivy? He knew that both of them liked him, as strange as the idea seemed to him. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be Tyrone Thomas. No matter what he chose to do, someone would be upset… but although he couldn’t have possibly taken both girls to the ball, he still felt horrible.

He didn’t feel any better when he entered the Shrieking Shack and saw Arden, slumped over on one of the beds with her hair falling in her face. She didn’t look up or acknowledge his presence when he entered.

“Arden,” he said softly, swallowing a cold, bitter lump in his throat not unlike radish sorbet. “Look at me.”

“Why?” came the response, and even in Arden’s soft, French-accented voice, she managed to pack pain and resentment into that one word.

“Because I want to talk to you,” he said. She still didn’t turn toward him, so he sat down next to her. He’d expected her to move away from him, but she didn’t. “Listen, I feel really awful about letting you have a bad time at the ball. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You say that now, but I know that although you try to be kind to me, you know I am just a monster,” Arden told him in a hard, brittle voice.

Ted’s jaw dropped, and he got to his feet. “How can you say that?” he exclaimed, his voice hushed with scandalized shock. He brushed back his bangs to reveal his mangled and mutilated right temple. “Why would I think you’re a monster? Seriously, Arden, I think I know better than anyone else at this school that being a werewolf does not make you a monster.”

Arden still didn’t say anything, but he looked her in the eye and said, “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time. But, I mean, we still could’ve�“just because I brought a date doesn’t mean that I can’t talk to my other friends. ‘Cause you’re a great friend, and I don’t want to lose a friend to something like this. I really miss talking to you.”

Arden looked slightly less upset, but her eyes were still dark and sad. “I know it is selfish of me to think it but… I wished you would…that you would… that I could be in Ivy’s place.”

“Oh, no,” Ted said softly. “I, erm, really don’t know what to say. I…I can’t pretend I like you in any way other than as friends. But the thing is, well… I don’t think you like me as much as you think you do. Wow, that made no sense, but what I’m saying is, I’m the only person you know. I’m your only friend. And believe me, if you get to know the kids at your school, you’ll find someone you like a lot more than a goofy, scarecrow-type bloke like me. I promise.”

The French girl’s eyes were wide as she listened to the warm cadence of Ted’s voice. And then, she did something quite unexpected. She gave him a quick, light hug. “I know it’s not your fault,” she stated. “I should not have been angry with you. Perhaps… you can help me to know more people? Someday?”

Ted grinned. “I know at least four people who would love to meet you,” he said. “They all want to know who this mysterious Arden I keep going on about is.” He turned his head. “I know you’re still not too thrilled with me. I wasn’t expecting you to forgive me this quickly�“but it’s cool to be friends again. If you�“”

But he broke off in mid-sentence as he felt the moonlight flood his body and twist it until it was no longer the one that he usually presented to the world. It was a body that he was coming to, very gradually, accept and feel accustomed to when he saw it reflected back in the mirror. The face of the wolf Ted didn’t seem any different or more surprising to him now than the face of the boy Ted, just like how Ted and Theo were different nicknames for the same person. He looked over at the smaller, darker wolf beside him and let out a howl, his wolf’s vocal cords’ way of saying, “Feel all right?”

Arden the wolf howled back, but Ted knew instinctively that what she had said was, ‘Yes�“I suppose.” He’d almost forgotten that somehow, on that first transformation with Arden, how he and she were able to communicate with each other, even in their wolfish forms.

“Hey, you can hear me, right? That’s proof that we’re really people, isn’t it? Unless we were, I don’t know, were-parrots or something.”

“How do we know that animals don’t talk in a way that people can’t understand?” came the reply, and Ted noticed that the French accent and awkward hesitance were gone when it was her thoughts speaking instead of her voice.

“Look in the mirror over there, then. Come on, tell me what you see.”

“A wolf,” was Arden’s flat statement. She didn’t look longer than she had to, clearly frightened by her own appearance.

“Look closer,” Ted prompted. “There, see your eyes? Just like always. Some writer person said�“and you should know this, because you’re the poet here�“that eyes are the windows to the soul. Do you believe me now?”

The darker wolf looked away. “You’ve never transformed without the Wolfsbane potion, but at home, nobody can brew it for me. That’s the worst thing… I can still see, feel, think, everything like always, but I can’t control myself. I’m not human when it happens.”

“But you just said it yourself�“you’re there, just not in control. All the potion does is let you stay in charge,” said Ted. “Look at Marina, she’s one-eighth veela, and full veela turn into creepy bird things. But people like her! She’s happy!”

He climbed up to his bed, got in, and pulled up the covers with his wolf’s mouth. “I don’t like to see you sad. Listen, your teachers chose you to come here from France for a reason�“you had a good chance of being picked for the Tournament. Just… think about what I said. I’m not always right, but I think I am about this.”

There was a silence. “Theo?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Arden. G’night.”

“Good night.”

And though nobody else would have understood their conversation if they had heard it, the two friends understood each other perfectly.


* * * * * *


The second Triwizard Task was fast approaching, and Emma, assisted by her friends, was learning everything she could about her school. She explored every nook, cranny, secret passage, and alcove (which was often a good excuse for mischief), and tried to memorize as much of its history as possible. Jordan couldn’t help but feel that he really would have been a good Hogwarts champion�“from what he’d heard, this was a more intellectual challenge�“but he kept his mouth shut and assisted his cousin as much as he could.

He had a mind for facts like no other, neatly organized and filed away, and therefore, he was working with Emma much more than the others. Both of them being rather strong-willed people, they argued a great deal, both always convinced that they were the one who was right, and, as a result, became rather sick of each other.

“All right,” Jordan sighed with the air of a teacher attempting to knock some sense into a particularly dense pupil during one of their many study sessions. “What was Icarus Higgenbottom’s major contribution to the school?”

“Er… having the stupidest name of anyone ever?” Emma replied.

“That’s incorrect, of course,” Jordan said flatly. “Come on, use your brains for once. You read this not two days ago�“how could you possibly forget it?”

“Because not everyone in the world can store data better than their own computer, Jordan, believe it or not!” snapped Emma. “So, what did old Icky Something-bottom contribute?”

Jordan fixed her with his sternest, steeliest gaze, making Emma very glad that he was not a teacher and could not assign detentions. “You’re being so immature,” he told her coolly. “I want you to win�“we all do. At least try this. In any case, Icarus Higgenbottom was the very first Herbology teacher and head of Hufflepuff house after Helga Hufflepuff’s death. His identical twin brother, Daedalus, was a monk and came back to the school as the Fat Friar ghost after expiring when his monastery burned down.” He sounded like he was reading from a textbook, but he was actually reciting from memory.

Emma shook her head. “Listen, I appreciate all your hard work trying to knock this stuff into my brains, but I think I’d do better on my own. I’m not saying you’re not a good teacher or anything, but I think I’ll just confuse myself if I try as hard as you want me to,” she explained.

Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. This was unlike Emma�“she was being rational for once, explaining how she felt like a sensible human being would, instead of attacking Jordan and all he stood for before storming off in a cloud of fury.

“All right,” he said. “I’m rather busy anyway. If you still want to work on something or you need help, I’m always available for tutoring, unless I’m training the Quidditch team. I’ll try my hardest to keep snarky comments like ‘I told you so’ and ‘Couldn’t handle it on your own, could you?’ to a bare minimum.”

Emma smiled. “I appreciate the offer,” she told him, traipsing out of the library.

She and Jordan had been friends since they were extremely small, and they usually had a good time flying or practicing spells, but they didn’t always mix well. Emma, with her volatile temper, brash personality, and passionate nature was like fire; cool, aloof Jordan, unpredictable, multifaceted, and hard-to-follow, was water. Water extinguished fire, but fire evaporated water. But today, despite their irritation with each other, they’d managed to get along fairly well. It was a nice change.

The next day just so happened to be Valentine’s Day, which was Haley and Jordan’s sixteenth birthday. Haley could hardly believe it�“she, shrimpy little Haley Potter, was sweet sixteen (and never been kissed, she was quick to add with a contemptuous glance toward her sister). How could she possibly be sixteen, only a year away from adulthood, when she didn’t feel any different from the way she had in her first year?

But an even bigger surprise was what the twins received by mail on their birthday�“handwritten birthday cards from none other than Tancred Apple.

“Dear Jordan,” Jordan read aloud incredulously. “A very happy sixteenth birthday to you! I express my condolences that you have to share it with your twin sister. Like you, I am the second child out of five, so I understand sibling rivalry! Good luck continuing your studies, and if I am elected Minister of Magic, it would be excellent to one day have an intelligent young man such as yourself serving under me. I know your father from work, and he’s an honourable and talented man. Yours sincerely, Tancred L. Apple, Department of Muggle Relations.”

Jordan put the letter down with an eyebrow arched, earning him a hearty whack from his twin. “That’s interesting,” he said in his flat voice. “How on earth does a busy man like Apple find the time to send cards to random people on their birthdays? It’s not as if it will earn him any more votes�“we won’t be eligible to vote until we’re of age anyway.”

Ivy shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think it’s really nice. I haven’t had my birthday yet this year… I wonder if he sends cards to everyone or just to us because he knows our dad?”

“My birthday was about a month ago, and I got a card,” said a Slytherin prefect, as he walked past their table on his way to the door.

“I got a card, too,” chipped in a Ravenclaw first year. “And he can’t only give them out to people whose parents he knows, because my parents are both Muggles.”

All around them, people began to describe the cards they’d gotten for their birthdays. Apparently, Apple had started sending out cards in January, and many students had gotten one. “It’s nice of him, I suppose,” Jordan stated, “but I’m personally just a bit creeped out by how much he knew about me. I feel like I’ve been stalked.”

Haley laughed. “Jordan, you’re usually the one telling me to stop letting my imagination run away with me! Apple probably just asked Dad some questions about us. And Dad must have told him that I like pink, because this card is, and it’s really cute!”

Tancred Apple was definitely making his mark on the wizarding world. And by the time the second Triwizard task rolled around, his arrival was eagerly anticipated by much of Hogwarts’s student body.

The morning of the second challenge, he arrived rather dramatically by broom�““I ran out of Floo powder,” he explained rather sheepishly�“looking artfully tousle-haired yet impeccably dressed in one of his trademark pinstriped suits. His broom was not a new designer model like the Vortex 360 for which Jordan had been diligently saving his pocket money; no, it was an old Cleansweep, well-worn with bent twigs.

But while most students were watching Apple, Emma and her friends were busy preparing her for the Tournament. “Are you sure you know everything you’ll need to know about Hogwarts?” Jordan asked for possibly the squintillionth time. He looked tired�“he’d obviously spent a lot of his time thinking up things his cousin might need for the second task, and was probably more nervous than the champion herself.

“I think so,” replied Emma with a forced cheeriness. “Jordan, don’t worry, or you’ll go psycho. When you get into something, you get obsessed. This is my challenge, and I’m going to kick some serious…”

At that moment, her mother walked by and gave her a hug, whispering, “Good luck today!”

“…backside,” Emma concluded, and Jordan smirked. He knew his cousin had picked up some vocabulary from her father of which her mother didn’t necessarily approve.

He cleared his throat. “So, do you remember Icarus Higgenbottom’s contribution to�“”

“Yeah, she does,” Haley assured him. “Don’t make her nervous. We all know she’ll do an awesome-possum job.”

Jordan’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. For once, his twin was right; Emma would do better alone. All he managed to say was to feebly snort, “Awesome-possum?”

“You should take Haley-ese as a second language,” remarked Ivy. “That’s fairly standard vocabulary for her.”

“Fourth language,” muttered Jordan. “I speak English, Latin, and Parseltongue.”

“What about tongues?” asked Tyrone brightly, gliding toward them. “Hey, Em, you’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t really gotten to talk to you since, like, December.” He squeezed her shoulder playfully. “Good luck, Champ.”

Emma whirled around as fast as a hurricane. “Leave me alone, you jerk,” she told him in a low, deadly voice. Didn’t Tyrone Thomas realize that he was no longer on good terms with him after the Yule Ball?

Tyrone looked genuinely perplexed. “Jerk? Since when have I been a jerk?”

“You’ve always been a jerk, Thomas, even before you nominated yourself for ‘most attractive’ in our second year,” Emma replied frostily.

“Yeah, but I thought I was a fun jerk,” Tyrone insisted in a slightly hurt voice. “I thought we were friends. And since when do you call me ‘Thomas’ anyway?”

But he never got his answer, because at that moment, two more people made their way down the hallway. They were Cadmus Skitesby and Evadne Schiffington, Ministry judges. Schiffington was wearing a dowdy Muggle skirt suit that did not flatter the young and pretty witch, and Skitesby was apparently completely unaware of how Muggle clothing was worn, because he wore red plaid Capri pants, a green checked blazer, and a purple baseball hat, worn sideways (although Jordan silently speculated that most people would draw the same conclusion about the thoroughly un-magical Giorgi). The two of them were deep in conversation.

“�“and he’s going to tell them then,” said Schiffington.

“Don’t worry about that now, it’s not for months, Evadne,” Skitesby sighed. “The second Triwizard Task is today. Let’s focus on that.”

“Yes, we’ll need--” Schiffington broke off when she noticed Emma and her friends. “Miss Weasley, there you are!” she exclaimed. “Come with us, the task’s about to start!”

Emma gulped and reluctantly followed the judges, her friends each wishing her luck. As she trailed away, Haley noted, “Uh-oh.”

“What?” chorused the others.

“She’s wearing pigtails,” Haley stated. “She only wears pigtails when she’s feeling really fierce. Every duel she’s been in, pigtails. When we fought Malfoy last year, pigtails. When she wasn’t speaking to me in first year, pigtails for a week. If she’s wearing pigtails today, then she’s a mad woman. The Tournament is hers to win.”

The friends grinned at one another. For once, it was a good thing to see Emma mad.


* * * * * *


“The first Triwizard Task,” spoke McGonagall several minutes later, “was designed to test your physical and magical abilities, as well as your intellect. This challenge is designed to measure your mental abilities and logical reasoning.”

Emma couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Vladislav, well-renowned for his brain power. But the Durmstrang champion’s face remained blank, as always. Her eyes met Marina’s, and she looked away quickly, flipping a long pigtail over her shoulder with a haughty air.

“But to succeed in this challenge, you must have knowledge of the present and past of this school, as the second task will be a treasure hunt of sorts. The school’s portraits and ghosts have kindly volunteered to give clues that should ultimately lead you to your destination. Each of you will have a different path and destination. So what is your goal in this task? Each of you has a friend or family member who has been poisoned, and you must find the ingredients to and mix the antidote. The first to return with their friend or family member, fully cured, will receive the highest points.”

Emma gasped and scanned the crowds. Good, her mother was there, and so was her father, visiting to see her perform in the task. She saw Jordan�“his messy hair was noticeable anywhere�“and Ivy and Ted, sitting together near the front. But where was Haley? What if Emma couldn’t mix the antidote in time, and Haley died?

This was really reminding her of the second Triwizard Task in the 1994 tournament in which her uncle Harry had been a champion. Emma’s father had been held hostage under the lake�“but that only required courage (and gillyweed). Emma was good at Potions, but not phenomenal, and she knew Vladislav was an excellent potion brewer. She was really beginning to feel worried.

“To begin the task, each champion will return to his or her school quarters�“Emma Weasley to the Gryffindor Common Room, Marina Weasley to the Beauxbatons carriage, and Vladislav Poliakoff to the Durmstrang ship,” continued McGonagall. “Good luck, champions.”

Emma made her way to the Common Room in long, fluid strides�“she knew she shouldn’t run, or she’d be out of breath by the time she made it to her destination. Before she could even say the password, though (‘serendipitous’), the Fat Lady blinked slowly, turned her face toward the Hogwarts champion, and recited,

“Champion chosen by the Goblet of Fire
Find the room that gives what you require.”

Emma blinked. “Say what?”

The Fat Lady rolled her eyes and repeated,

“Champion chosen by the Goblet of Fire
Find the room that gives what you require.”

“That’s a terrible poem,” remarked Emma.

The Fat Lady pouted. “Don’t go blaming me,” she whined.

“Whatever.” Emma picked up a small vial of something gelatinous and green that looked like it might be dragon bogeys from the floor and slipped it into her bag.

The ‘room that gives what you require’ was obviously the Room of Requirement, so she lengthened her stride and made her way briskly down the staircases until she reached the tapestry of a man being clubbed by trolls in tutus. It was lucky, she thought, that she had known about the Room of Requirement�“she was certain that if any of the other champions had gotten that clue, they would have been thrown off.

Slightly heartened by this, she paced back and forth three times, thinking, I need the next clue for the Triwizard Task, over and over, until the heavy door wooden door to the Room of Requirement silently slipped into existence.

The second her hand touched the doorknob, though, she heard a loud “THBBBT!” overhead and looked up just in time for a slimy Knarl liver to land on her face from above. “EEEURRGH!” she exclaimed, brushing off the liver. Three more livers rained down upon her head. “What the…?”

An odd-looking little man materialized in the air, his bowlegs folded at the ankles and his hands overflowing with knarl livers.

“Peeves!” exclaimed Emma. “I’m trying to win a Triwizard Task here!”

Peeves pulled a pompous face. “Well, you may be interested to know, Miss Posh Champion Weasley, that I have been appointed to present you with a clue. And those livers are ingredients for the potion, you puddinghead.”

Emma was aghast. “What maniac would let you be part of the Triwizard Tournament?” she exclaimed.

“That wonderful Hairy Potty bloke,” Peeves sang, casually doing back flips in midair as he spoke. “Lovely man. Completely barmy. In any case, here’s your clue, mademoiselle.” His French accent sounded like an odd cross between Australian and New York-ese.

“A hidden chamber’s in this room
Thanks to its spirit, full of gloom.”

“That must be Myrtle’s bathroom,” remarked Emma. “These clues are really easy. I bet I have a fair chance of winning.”

“Don’t count your salamanders before the fire’s lit,” Peeves advised wisely.

“Right,” Emma replied. “Who writes these poems, anyway? They’re awful.”

The poltergeist shrugged and adjusted his loud orange-and-green bow tie. “Not me. My poems would be a bit different.” And he launched into a dramatic interpretation of a shockingly rude poem that he had apparently composed himself.

“Right, I’m going,” Emma called loudly, trying to drown out the naughty ballad.

Peeves broke off in the middle of the phrase ‘to disembowel with a trowel,’ and screeched, “Send Potty my love!”

“Uncle Harry is so dead,” muttered the champion as she placed the Knarl livers Peeves had thrown at her into her bag and sped off toward Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. She had talked to the ghostly girl very little, and was not eager to do it again. Her one and only encounter with Myrtle had been in her first year, and extremely depressing.

And from the look of things, Myrtle hadn’t improved any in temperament. She sat in midair in a mildly unsettling fashion and sobbed into her pudgy, transparent hands.

“Er, hello, do you have anything for me?” Emma prompted.

Myrtle broke into a fresh stream of sobs. “I should have known! I should have known that you would never come to visit me unless there was something that you wanted! I don’t count as a real person, do I, just because I’m dead, isn’t that right?”

“No, no�“Myrtle�“that’s not, at least, I didn’t mean to say that!” sputtered Emma. “I’m just really stressed out about the tournament.”

Myrtle sighed. “Well, all right… here’s your clue.” She recited in a hopeless, depressed-sounding wail,

“When Salazar left, threw a vase
Here, shattered against Godric’s face.”

“Whoever wrote these poems should be stoned to death,” Emma commented. “So, basically, I have to find the place where Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin got into a fight when Slytherin called it quits?”

Myrtle only appeared to have heard the first part of this comment. “DEATH? How dare you speak to me about death? People are so inconsiderate!” she howled.

“I… I was only kidding!” Emma explained uncomfortably.

Myrtle sighed and composed herself with a massive effort. “The Jabberknoll quills you’ll need for your potion are on the back of that toilet,” she informed her matter-of-factly. “I can’t pick them up, seeing as I’m dead.”

Emma headed quickly for the door before the ghostly girl could begin crying again, but before she left, Myrtle remarked, “It’s too bad that Tyrone Thomas wasn’t made Quidditch captain.”

Wondering why Myrtle was bringing this up, Emma remarked, “Well, Jordan’s doing a fantastic job, so I don’t see why anyone else should do it.”

Myrtle sighed again. “The Quidditch captains get to use the Prefects’ bathrooms,” she explained in a dreamy and rather repulsive manner. “And although Jordan’s decently fit, he’s nothing compared to Tyrone… and Ted Lupin, the prefect, was a bit of a disappointment as well. He’s certainly not very good-looking at all.”

“You do realize that these are my friends you’re talking about?” Emma interrupted loudly. As she fled the bathroom, wishing she could scrub her mind clean from all of the horrible images now crowding it, she thought how horrible it must be to be stuck in puberty for all eternity like Myrtle was. She gagged at the horrible image of Myrtle spying on Jordan bathing in the Prefects’ bathroom. And who was Myrtle to call Ted unattractive when she was no prize herself?

She arrived at the fifth-floor corridor, the spot where she remembered reading that Slytherin had beaned Gryffindor with a vase. She would have to thank Jordan for giving her that information… though she would leave out the part about Myrtle’s evaluation of his physique when she recounted the details of the tournament to him. On the floor was a pot of the powdered roots of a rosebush, and Emma emptied it into her bag. But where would she get her clue?

As if on cue, a portrait of an extremely ancient-looking man wearing a comical Peter Pan hat and green suspenders over his robes for no apparent reason cleared his throat with much phlegmatic hacking. “I have the clue, Miss… er…”

“My name is Emma Weasley,” Emma told the portrait.

His rheumy eyes lit up. “Ahh, my daughter’s name was Mavis, too!” he creaked. His voice was reminiscent of what an eel would sound like if eels could talk and this particular one had its tail stuck in a rusty hinge that hadn’t been oiled in awhile.

“I’m Emma,” corrected Emma. “Not Mavis. As a matter of fact, my dad�“Ron Weasley�“wanted to name me Mafalda, which is close, but…”

“You were named for your father, Mavis?” asked the portrait.

“No!” she snapped, then realized that the portrait may not read her the clue if she was impolite. “Could you please read me the clue? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“All right,” agreed the portrait, then recited in his dry, croaking voice,

“,i>You’re halfway through, four clues remain
Seek out Higgenbottom’s domain.”

“HIGGENBOTTOM!” Emma shrieked. “I just have to go by the greenhouses! I can’t believe it! Jordan won’t believe they used that one!”

“Why is it so exciting that they wrote a clue about Mavis?” asked the portrait.

“Higgenbottom,” Emma corrected, her teeth gritted.

“That’s what I said�“Mavis,” the portrait insisted.

The Hogwarts champion slapped herself in the forehead. “Look, I have to go,” she told the portrait. “I’ll see you later, Mr.… what’s your name?”

“Mavis,” the portrait told her.

Emma made a noise like a bison being trodden on.

The next several clues went by fairly smoothly, and she was certain she was going strong, if not winning. The final clue, the one before her destination, was the North Corridor near the astronomy tower.

A portrait of a young woman with mousy brown hair tucked up into a cap sat there demurely. Emma was positive she had never seen this picture before. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Mavis, would it?” she asked nervously.

The portrait laughed. “No, I’m Lady Gisella Marriam. And your last ingredient is that jar of goat bile below my frame.”

Emma gingerly picked up the jar of bile�“her ingredients just seemed to be getting grosser and grosser. “What’s the clue?” she asked.

Lady Gisella cleared her throat and recited,

“Proceed upward to the North Tower
Brew your potion within the hour.
Take this bile of a goat
To make your victim’s antidote.”

Emma smiled. “North Tower?” she affirmed. “That’s right here! I’m almost done! I just have to mix the potion and give it to Haley, and I’m done!”

Lady Gisella nodded.

“Thanks, Lady G!” called the Hogwarts champion as she sped up the stairs to the North Tower. She had this task in the bag! Literally, she thought, patting her bag of ingredients.

She opened the door to the Astronomy classroom in the North Tower slowly, and saw a cauldron and stirring stick lying expectantly on the floor. But where was Haley? “Hello? Where are you?” she called.

A soft whimper came from behind a desk, and she walked around it, only to come face to face with someone she definitely did not expect to see.

“TYRONE?” she exclaimed, thunderstruck, then remembered that she was no longer calling him by his first name. “Thomas?” she asked again. “What are�“” she trailed off when she got a closer look at him.

The handsome, well-built young man was curled up into a ball behind the desk, his dark eyes darting fearfully as he rocked slowly back and forth, and his strong chin was trembling.

“Did you close the door?” he asked in a voice quite unlike his usual deep, silky tones�“this voice was nervous and abrupt with none of the casual smugness and confidence that Emma had come to associate with Tyrone. “You should close the door,” he repeated. “Germs could get in. But be careful…you might accidentally close your fingers in the hinges.” He twitched and shuddered at the thought of it.

“Are you all right?” Emma asked cautiously, stepping closer toward him. “You’re acting so weird.”

“Weird? You might say I’m weird now!” Tyrone told her in a shrill, wavering voice. “But you’ll see I’m right! And don’t wear your scarf like that; it could strangle you.”

The girl knelt down and felt his forehead without even thinking about it. It was what her mother did when Emma was ill, and it only seemed right given the circumstances. Tyrone’s smooth skin didn’t feel especially warm, but his brow was sweaty.

“Did you wash your hands?” Tyrone demanded. “If you had bacteria on your hands, it could seep through my pores and infect me!”

“Your pores are fine,” Emma assured him. “I’m not so sure about the rest of you. What can you remember doing before you came into the room?” She kept her voice steady, but she was a bit frightened to see the boy she’d known for almost five years acting like this�“what if he was permanently unhinged? What if he stayed like this forever, locked up in some closed ward in St. Mungo’s, rocking back and forth and muttering about bacteria all alone for the rest of his life?

“I remember what happened,” Tyrone replied. “The Triwizard judges gave me a drink that looked like pumpkin juice, but it didn’t taste like it.” He gasped. “Oh, no! What if it had alcohol in it? I’m too young! I’d get in trouble if I drank alcohol! Oh no, oh no, oh no!”

Emma didn’t listen to the ‘oh no’s.’ She cradled her head in her hands. How could she be so stupid? Of course, Tyrone had been given a potion by the judges that made him act this way! It was part of the task! And she had made a fool out of herself by asking him questions and feeling his forehead when she should have been brewing the antidote!

“Tyrone, just sit still,” she ordered. “I’ll fix you something that’ll make you feel better.” She snuck a glance at him. “No alcohol,” she added.

She lit a fire under the cauldron and threw in all of the ingredients�“dragon bogeys, Knarl livers, goat bile, powdered rosebush roots, Jabberknoll quills, and all. She almost smirked at the concept of Tyrone drinking this disgusting concoction as she stewed and stirred and blended. When she was finally finished with the potion, it looked quite a lot like pumpkin juice.

She scooped some of it into a cup. “Here, drink this. It’ll calm your nerves!”

“I’m not nervous!” Tyrone squawked, his face twitching. “And I’m not drinking anything that was mixed by someone who had their back to me!”

“Come on,” she urged in the sort of soothing voice that her mother always used to make her eat her broccoli. So this was what it was like to have a four-year-old. “Drink up.”

Tyrone shook his head violently, and Emma rolled her eyes. She sat down next to him on the floor and said, “Tyrone, you’re sick. You have the, er, rare Booga-Booga Fever. Your aunt, Madame Patil, she told me to give you this tonic because she was too busy helping a boy who got beaten up by the Whomping Willow.”

“Really?” asked Tyrone.

“Yeah,” replied Emma, and she tilted the cup up to his mouth. He tried to seal his lips shut but to no effect�“the potion pouted into his mouth, and he swallowed involuntarily. “Good,” Emma said encouragingly. “Can you drink the rest?”

Tyrone hesitated. “Well… all right.” He picked up the cup and swallowed the potion.

Nothing happened.

Emma was worried�“had all of her work been for nothing? Would she lose the task? Then, she remembered; the antidote to a paranoia potion took five minutes to take effect. But she didn’t want to wait five minutes to head back�“another champion could beat her to the Great Hall, even if she finished first.

“Come on, let’s get to the Great Hall,” she suggested. “We should hurry if we don’t want to be late.”

“But what if I trip and fall down the stairs and break my neck and die?!” exclaimed Tyrone. “What if a Slytherin attacks me in the hall?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Emma assured him. “I’ll make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” It would take her about fifteen minutes to reach the Great Hall from the North Tower, faster if she ran. Her potion would set in before they arrived back.

She grabbed Tyrone’s wrist and pulled him behind her by the hand. “Listen, just try to keep up with me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’m holding your hand. Just do what I’m doing.” Although Tyrone was taller and stronger than her, she felt like she was leading a little child as she jogged briskly down the hallway, Tyrone trailing behind. Every now and then, he would stop dead in his tracks and get upset about something, like a “germ-infested” handkerchief on the ground or a dangerously rusty suit of armor, which was a slight hindrance.

After they’d descended another floor, Tyrone skidded to a stop for the umpteenth time. “What’s wrong?” asked Emma.

The boy blinked and rolled back his shoulders slowly. “Whoa,” he muttered. “That was really weird.”

“Are you okay?” prompted the girl.

“Yeah,” replied Tyrone. “But that potion I took before�“the pumpkin juice-ish one, that was so strange. I’m sorry if I freaked you out too much.”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t mind. It wasn’t really you anyway, you know? It was the potion talking. But you’re back to normal�“or at least, as normal as you’ll ever be�“so that that means… it means… it means you don’t have any excuses for lagging behind! So come on!”

Tyrone flashed his typical wide, white-toothed grin. “I’ll race you!” he said, as he began to run, Emma close behind him.

They didn’t let go of each other’s hands until they reached the Great Hall.


* * * * * *


Vladislav Poliakoff rounded the opposite corner at the same time as Emma and Tyrone, his father, Headmaster Poliakoff, behind him. “Hey,” Emma said in a laconic greeting to her fellow champion as they arrived in the Great Hall. “I guess we’re tied.”

Vladislav simply nodded, his angular face faraway and forbidding-looking. He wasn’t the friendliest of boys, Emma thought.

Everyone in the Great Hall broke into applause as they entered, and she could see Jordan and Ted in the stands exchanging an enthusiastic high-five�“something that one didn’t often see Jordan doing.

But when she looked up at the judges’ table, she frowned. They didn’t looked as the other did�“Mr. Potter and McGonagall looked upset and confused, Madame Maxime’s lips were pursed in thought, the Durmstrang aide who was sitting in for Poliakoff (as he was Vladislav’s subject for the second task) was speaking and gesticulating rapidly in what sounded like Russian, and Skitesby and Schiffington were exchanging glances.

She didn’t have time to ponder this, though, because just a few minutes later, Marina entered the room in a flurry with an unexpected person… Haley.

What is it with Haley lately? was Emma’s first thought. She’s my best friend, but the Durmstrang champion’s date to the ball and the Beauxbatons champion’s victim in the second task… why not just arrest her for international treason?

McGonagall stood up and addressed the assembled student body. “Well… now we have our three champions… although I must say, this is not exactly what we’d expected. Somehow, our Hogwarts and Beauxbatons champions seem to have taken the wrong paths, because Emma Weasley has claimed Marina Weasley’s subject, and Marina has claimed Emma’s subject. For that reason, our judges have decided that they should share a second-place tie for this task.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. How was that possible? She had followed all of the instructions she’d been given perfectly�“there was no way she could have possibly made a mistake. Her eyes flickered over toward Tyrone, who looked just as confused as she did. He obviously hadn’t known who was supposed to have ‘saved’ him, or he would have said something… Emma snorted disdainfully. Really, didn’t Marina have any friends? Why would Tyrone, a pathetic fifth year, be the person she would save?

Emma’s shock turned to rage when she thought of the unfair scoring. She should have gotten a higher score than Marina�“she had done her task and arrived back in the Great Hall several minutes before her cousin had. Shouldn’t that have counted for something?

“And Vladislav Poliakoff has been awarded full marks, coming in first for the task!” concluded McGonagall. The applause for the Durmstrang champion was not as strong as it should have been, and Emma wondered once more where everyone’s school spirit was. Who cared if Vladislav was a no-fun, unpopular, stuck-up and his classmates should have been supporting him all the way. What was wrong with people lately?

She was still seething with anger a few minutes later when she accidentally bumped into Marina on her way out of the Great Hall. Being in a foul mood, she couldn’t help but say, “How does it feel to lose this time around?”

Marina laughed dryly. “I’m tied with Vladislav for first in overall scores,” she informed her cousin coolly. “I’m not the one in last place.”

“Well, I can still win!” Emma exploded, and stormed�“a verb that was virtually synonymous with Emma Weasley�“into the corridor. She slid down the wall and onto the floor, where she sat.

She had sixty-two points, and Marina and Vladislav each had ninety… she did the calculations quickly in her head. If she got a perfect score in the third task and Marina and Vladislav each got less than thirty-one points, she would win the tournament. And she swore to herself, her eyes blazing fiercely, that she absolutely had to win the third task, that she would win, or she’d never be able to live with herself.

“Emma? You okay?” she heard a voice say. She looked up, dazed, to see Tyrone standing there in front of her. “You look really, I don’t know, murderous.”

She sighed. “Look, can you just leave me alone?”

Tyrone squatted down next to her in a manner reminiscent of the way Emma had knelt down next to Tyrone up in the North Tower during the second task. “Nope,” he replied. “Because you’re upset, and I want to help.”

“Why?” asked Emma flatly.

Tyrone put his hand on her shoulder in his usual lazy, casual manner. “’Cos when you’re upset, bad stuff tends to happen, and I want to keep people from getting killed by you in one of your moods.” He paused and ran his other hand through his curly, gelled hair. “And also because I figure that’s what friends are for. I’ve got your back, like you got mine earlier when I was acting like a loony.”

Emma wrenched his hand from her shoulder and threw it off like it was a dead fish; Tyrone’s eyebrows tilted upward, giving his deep hazel eyes the look of a sad puppy’s. “Look, there’s no need to get all buddy-buddy with me all of a sudden,” snarled Emma. “I thought I wasn’t speaking to you. Did you, like, not get that memo or something?”

Tyrone looked genuinely hurt. “I know you were mad at me or something… though I’m still not totally sure why… But I thought we were friends again�“I mean, you were so cool during the task, all patient and nice and everything.”

“That had nothing to do with you,” spat Emma. “You’re so full of yourself. I was only doing all that to get points. I wanted a Hogwarts victory, to keep the good name of the school and all. I wouldn’t have done it any differently if I was rescuing Charybdis Nott�“don’t think I cared about you or anything. Because I didn’t. And I don’t.”

Tyrone’s jaw dropped and small, nonsensical noises very much like “Mimblewimble,” managed to escape from his mouth. His handsome face had the tense look that came with trying desperately from giving away emotions. “I should have known it was too good to be true,” he muttered quietly, and walked away without any of his usual jaunty bounce in his step.

Emma’s stomach felt strange. “I think I’m coming down with something,” she mumbled.


* * * * * *


The next morning, no one was really ready for first-period Potions class, as they’d been so focused on the tournament. But Professor Zabini showed no mercy. “Your essays,” he proclaimed, his eyes flashing, “on the properties of dragon scales in potion-making, were dismal to say the least.” He slammed a thick stack of essays on the desk in front of him for dramatic effect.

“I expected better of you… Miss Weasley, your poor grade is understandable, given your performance in the second Triwizard Task, but as for the rest of you, you could have worked much harder.” He shot a glance over toward Anatoly Capshaw. “And as for you, Capshaw, if you fail your Potions O.W.L., I will not be surprised… but I will be very displeased, so I’d advise you study much, much more.”

Jordan wetted his lips nervously with his tongue. He hadn’t worked as hard on this assignment as he could have�“normally, homework always came first, but he’d been so busy working with his cousin for the Triwizard Tournament and preparing his Quidditch team for their match against Hufflepuff. But he had turned in an essay that was at least adequate, even if it didn’t quite meet his stringent personal standards.

Zabini glided around the classroom, dropping essays onto desks and leaving students moaning with discontent in his wake. Jordan couldn’t help but note that Tyrone, who had already been looking slightly defeated even before receiving his essay, had an outrageously bad grade, and Ted had gotten a ‘P.’ Jordan didn’t know what grade Emma had received, but he could guess, as she had already shredded her essay into confetti and sprinkled it all over her desk, and Ivy’s paper was discreetly lying face-down on her desk.

Jordan crossed his fingers beneath his desk (although he was a vehement non-believer when it came to superstition, being the cynical boy that he was) when Zabini stopped at his desk, pulled a parchment from the top of his stack, and set it onto Jordan’s desk with a flourish.

A red-inked “93%” winked up at him from the top of the paper. A ninety-three… he couldn’t believe it… he refused to believe it. His eyeballs froze, unseeing, and his mouth gaped open. A ninety-three was an E. A very high E, only one point away from an O, but an E nonetheless.

Jordan Potter never got E’s, never settled for merely Exceeding Expectations when he could be Outstanding. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a grade less than a hundred�“he was top of his class, best at everything. An E… he felt demoted, like an unintelligent and untalented layman, no longer the shining genius that he was meant to be.

His thoughts were pierced by loud squeal, followed by an exclamation of, “MERLIN!” He turned to the right to see Haley, her eyes resembling round green marbles and her eyebrows so high that if they’d gone up any higher, they’d be in midair and no longer attached to her face.

“I can’t believe this!” squeaked Haley, brandishing her essay. “A ninety-four! A ninety-four by me! In Potions! My worst subject, and I got a ninety-four! That’s an O!”

Jordan almost fell out of his chair. Haley, his crazy, careless, clueless sister had gotten an O. He, the alleged smart one, had gotten an E. It was unthinkable. Haley had beat him in school�“Haley. It didn’t happen. “I’m not special anymore,” he said to himself, mortified. “What’s happening to me?”

* * * * * *


“Dear Lee, the last few days have been weird,” Haley wrote that night.

“More or less so than that day last year you told me about when the whole school watched a film of Jordan impersonating Mick Jagger in his underwear?” replied Lee.

“Well, not weird in the same way,” Haley elaborated after a contemplative pause. “I was part of the Triwizard Tournament. I had to drink a potion that made me act really weird and paranoid, and Marina had to brew me an antidote.”

“Marina?”

“Yep,” clarified Haley. “There was some mix-up. Emma was supposed to do it, but she saved Tyrone instead, even though Marina was supposed to. So they tied for second, and Emma’s in last place now. And she shouted at Tyrone or something I think, because he’s not trying to talk to her anymore, and she gets all mad if you even mention him.”

“I feel really bad for her,” Lee commented. “She’s so stressed out with the tournament, and I don’t think her problems with Tyrone are helping.”

“But I don’t know what her problems with Tyrone are!” Haley added. “I mean, they like each other, and everyone knows it! Why can’t they just go with that?”

“Well, I get the impression that Emma’s a difficult girl. She likes to think of herself as tough, and I think she thinks giving into Tyrone would be showing weakness�“I know, it sounds crazy, but I think I’m right on this one. And besides, it’s like you said with Ivy and makeup. She’ll know when she’s ready for it,” Lee put in.

“So, like, she doesn’t think she’s ready to be his girlfriend, so she doesn’t know what to do?” There was a brief pause.

“Haley, you’re really cool, but I think you should just leave her alone on this one. I don’t think she wants her love life (or lack thereof) analyzed or anything like that.”

Lee was right, thought Haley. But what else was new? Lee was usually right. Haley changed the subject. “Hey, you know how you’ve been helping me study?”

“No, I don’t. I have amnesia something dreadful,” Lee replied sarcastically.

Haley ignored the diary. “Anyway, it’s really paid off. Because… I GOT A NINETY-FOUR ON MY POTIONS ESSAY! That’s an O! I’ve gotten two or three O’s on Divination and Care of Magical Creatures and stuff, but you don’t really need to do anything in those classes. I really can’t believe it!”

“Great job! I knew you could do it!” Lee congratulated.

Haley hesitated. “There’s just one thing,” she added. “I feel kind of bad… Jordan’s not happy. He got a ninety-three.”

Lee remained blank for a few awkward seconds, and then red-inked letters floated onto the surface. “Oh dear.”

* * * * * *


“Harry,” moaned Ron, staggering into the Auror office. “I’m old!”

Harry looked up with a grin. “Happy fortieth birthday, mate,” he said warmly.

Ron took a seat with one of his ever-present mugs of coffee in hand. “I can’t believe it!” he stammered. “I’m forty! That’s ancient! Remember Snape? He DIED when he was forty, and he always seemed old to us. And my daughter! She’s sixteen! I could have sworn we were sixteen just yesterday. It all goes by so fast. And now, poof! I’m old!”

Harry considered this. It really was hard to believe that his best friend was now forty, almost twice the age of this own parents at the time of their death. But it was even harder to believe that Voldemort had been defeated so long ago. In fact… Haley and Jordan and were now sixteen, he reminded himself. They were only a year younger than he’d been when he’d finished off Voldemort on that one dark day that seemed horribly and deceptively fresh and recent…

“I think I’ve been old for a long time,” said Harry.

Bogged down with homework, the students struggled on toward May. But conversely, the Auror Department had so little to do lately that Harry was beginning to feel restless, despite his part-time job at Hogwarts. He had chosen this career as an Auror because it was exciting and catching dark wizards was something that he really cared about; filling out paperwork all day and watching Ron drink endless cups of coffee was not exactly part of the package of the job he’d chosen as a fifteen-year-old.

This reminded him of his dreaded career advice session, and he had to wonder what his own children had told Hermione that they wanted to be as adults. Ivy had already made it clear that she wanted to work in Experimental Charms, and he knew Haley talked about wanting to be an actress�”but this was just a childish dream, and surely she knew that was impractical. Maybe she’d told Hermione that she wanted to own her own shop. Harry could definitely see her doing that.

As for Jordan… Jordan was hard to figure out, as always. One possibility Harry could definitely rule out was an Auror�”Jordan would probably rather eat a bowl full of goat bile than pursue a career as an Auror. So what did he want to be? A professor was a probable choice, or someone who wrote textbooks. But the first thing he could see his son wanting to be was the Minister of Magic.

Speaking of the Minister of Magic, Harry had discovered some extremely interesting news about Tancred Apple, and he wanted to share it with Ron the next time he saw him. So when Ron strode by his office, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a song by Hilary Duff, Harry pulled him aside and said, “Ron�”I was in Muggle London yesterday, and I found out something weird. Apple’s running for Muggle Prime Minister as well as Minister of Magic.”

Ron shrugged. “That really is strange, but what does it prove, other than the fact that Apple wants, well, two bites of the apple at being in charge?”

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “First of all, that was really not funny. Second of all, he’s the Head of the Department of Muggle Relations. So if he’s elected for both positions, maybe he can make sure something like Malfoy’s escape and the death of all of those Muggles doesn’t happen again. He can watch out for the effect of magic on the Muggles… I don’t know, he might not be as much of an empty-headed pretty-boy as we thought before. I just never really liked him.”

Ron stroked his chin, which looked a tad odd, as it was clean-shaven. “Yeah, you could be right. Still, what would Percy do for a job if Apple became Minister? He’s only forty-four, he’s not ready to retire yet.”

Harry straightened his glasses. “You know, your wife�””

“Oh, no, when Hermione annoys you, you always call her ‘Ron’s wife’ instead of just saying her name. What did she do now?” interrupted Ron.

Harry smiled. “She said she thought I was jealous of Apple.”

“Where did she get that idea?” laughed Ron. “All right, maybe I’m a little jealous because Hermione seems to think he’s God’s gift to mankind or something,” admitted Ron. “As if I’m not enough for her.”

Harry smirked to himself�”apparently, almost twenty years of marriage and a teenaged daughter between them wasn’t enough to make Ron secure that Hermione really did care for him. “Well, elections are in a few days,” Harry said. “The Muggle ones are the same day as ours, so this should be interesting.”

Ron reclined in his chair. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

* * * * * *

Jordan had received a new email from Giorgi, and as far as he could tell, she hadn’t changed a bit after her grounding session. Unfortunately, though, neither had her punctuation.

To: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk
From: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
Subj: Play
Message:

Hi, Name Twin! I WISH YOU WENT TO MY SCHOOL!!!!! Do you want to know why?? It’s because we’re putting on a musical (It’s “The Phantom of the Opera,”) and I’m the costume designer, because I can’t sing to save my life!!! Like, if some gangster or something on the street came up to me and went, “You can sing on-key or you can die,” then I’d die.

BUT ANNNNYWAYY, that’s totally not the point! So, anyway, the guys in the play CAN’T SING!!! I swear, they’re like worse than me, and that’s saying A LOT. Well, I know you can sing, so if you weren’t at your stupid POSH LITTLE PRIVATE SCHOOL UP IN SCOTLAND, then we would at least have someone DECENT to play the Phantom!!!! The bloke who plays him now sings like a dying warthog, and Raoul the viscount is even worse!

My friend Lyndsay plays Christine (The main character, and Raoul and the Phantom are both in luuuurve with her), and my friend Julie plays Christine’s friend Meg, but they’re thinking of dropping out because they’re so embarrassed about being in a play where the boys stink so much.

SOOOO, what’s going on in your little *SCOTTISH* neck of the woods?? Write back ASAP!!!!

Cheers,
GIORGI!

Jordan replied:

To: rainbowbrite04@interweb.co.uk
From: sgtjpepper@magicworks.co.uk
Subj: Re: Play
Message:

Hello, Giorgi. I’m sorry to hear that your play isn’t going well. I actually do quite like “The Phantom of the Opera,” (don’t tell Haley; I have to pretend I hate everything to do with musical theatre) and I would really enjoy playing the Phantom.

You have far too many friends; I can’t keep them all straight! You’re lucky I don’t have that problem. So, anyway, you wanted to know what was happening in my Scottish neck of the woods? Well, studying is happening. I have massive exams coming up in June, and I’ve been working like mad.

Also, Emma has the third part of her tournament soon, too, so she’s even busier than the rest of us. The third challenge is supposed to be more a physical task, so I have confidence in her. I am, after all, her coach (although she’s temporarily off of the football team because of the tournament�”that’s called irony).

In other news, everyone I know is slowly but steadily completely losing their marbles. I’ve actually seen Haley doing homework from time to time�”I swear, she’s always writing something, which is completely unlike her�” and Emma is being fairly civil to me. But then, she knows she can’t mouth off at me because I’m training her for the third task and I’m the best athlete in the school. And this is not bragging, because it’s a simple fact.

And I still can’t get used to the idea of Ivy and Ted holding hands and the rest of the boyfriend/girlfriend package. When did my friends get hormones? And where was I the day they were passed out?

Bewildered,
Jordan.”

As he pressed send, the female half of the Potter twins was writing to Lee, who had just finished helping her with a Charms essay.

“Ivy just came in,” she wrote.

“That’s absolutely fascinating,” replied Lee.

Haley rolled her eyes at her journal’s sarcasm. “No, but seriously, Ivy’s been really… elusive all year!” Elusive was a word she had learned from Lee when they had written a Defence Against the Dark Arts paper, and she loved it. She wondered if her vocabulary would match Jordan’s if she kept writing in Lee.

“Like, first, she was so busy doing all of her studying and stuff, and then she just randomly stopped around Christmas. And then, on Christmas Eve, I woke up in the middle of the night, and she wasn’t there. I didn’t really think much of it afterward because I found out she and Ted were kissing in the broom cupboard, but then I realized that I still didn’t know why she’d gotten out of bed in the first place.

And it wasn’t the only time she did it, either. I think I’ve noticed her not being in bed something like four times, and she never, ever says anything about it in the morning. And I really doubt Ivy and her beau are snogging in the cupboard again, because I’m pretty sure that whole thing was a total accident in the first place. But a good accident. Wow, I just wrote more than I’ve ever written all at one time, not counting stuff for school.”

Haley knew Lee would have smiled if the journal had lips. “You know, I have the perfect word to describe you. It’s ‘loquacious.’ It means that you don’t stop talking.”

“Loquacious…” Haley said aloud. It had a ring to it. It sounded weird, though�”like the name of someone from a bizarre girl group where everyone had names like Shontayne and Florescia and Chiffonella. Maybe the next time Professor Zabini got mad at her for talking in class, she could say, “Professor, I’m not being disruptive; I’m just naturally loquacious.”

“But really,” she wrote, “what do you think is up with Ivy?”

“She’s normally a pretty good kid, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, freakishly.”

“Then I wouldn’t worry. She knows what she’s doing. Although… if she’s caught out of bed, she could really get in trouble�”trust me, I’ve been there. Now, I’m not really telling you to encourage rule-breaking, but friends don’t let friends get in trouble, so maybe you should conveniently leave out that Invisibility Cloak that you told me about. And if it’s in a slightly different position in the morning, pretend you didn’t notice. She’ll tell you when she feels like it.”

Haley decided then and there that Lee had officially surpassed the legal limit of awesomeness.

* * * * * *

Not counting the broken ones, there was not a single Wizarding Wireless in Britain that wasn’t turned on the day of the election for the new Minister of Magic. But it wasn’t because they were interested in listening to the stream of Celestina Warbeck songs that was playing�”it was because any minute, the new Minister of Magic would be announced. Ron had been drinking so much coffee that his eyes were vibrating, and Harry had basically given up on the prospect of doing any of his dull desk work�”he knew he’d never be able to concentrate on it.

Ron swore. “That’s the third time they’ve played ‘A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love!’” he exclaimed furiously, slamming his fist down on the table for dramatic effect. “I know that song’s going to be in my head for the rest of the week, and before I know it, I’ll be randomly singing it everywhere I go.”

Suddenly, the song was cut off in mid-verse.

“Thank heavens!” Ron said loudly, throwing up his hands.

“The votes have been counted!” boomed the voice of a cheery radio personality. “And the new Minister of Magic is… TANCRED LLEWELLYN APPLE!”

“I’m so excited to be voted the Minister of Magic,” came Apple’s voice, its soft Irish lilt more apparent than ever over the radio. “I have so many plans for the wizarding world, and I really can’t wait to implement them! And another reason why I’m so pleased to have been chosen is that choosing me to be Minister of Magic proves that wizarding Britain is a more tolerant nation. I’m the first Muggle-born Minister of Magic.”

Harry hadn’t known that Apple was Muggle-born. He supposed it made sense, as Apple was very keen on Muggle Rights.

“I don’t want to bore you with a long, tedious speech, so all I’m going to say is, you’re going to see some Apple power in action quite soon! So have a fantastic day, God bless you all, and thank you so much again for choosing me! Good afternoon.”

Ron swore again.

“And Hermione wonders where Emma picks up her unladylike language habits,” Harry said. He didn’t know what he thought about Tancred Apple as Minister of Magic. He really didn’t know.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Jordan neither knew nor cared who the Minister of Magic was, as he had rather pressing matters on his mind. He was giving a pep talk to his Quidditch team before their final game of the year, the game against Slytherin that would determine whether or not they won the House Cup.

“I’ve been working you to death all year long, and I want to see it pay off!” he shouted. “I’m supposing that you all loathe me for being so hard on you, and I want that hatred to be worth it when I’m holding the Quidditch Cup! Because I really believe in you as a team, and you’re certainly the best team that I’ve ever seen. And would you like to hear something else? At the beginning of the year, I was upset when I found I was the Quidditch captain. I’d wanted to be a prefect for as long as I could remember. But I’m incredibly glad to be your captain, and it’s been a fantastic Quidditch season. I can’t even find words to describe it�”and I know a lot of words. So before I say more of them, get out onto the field and win that cup!”

The team cheered. “Aye-aye, Cap’n!” yelled Tyrone, pounding Jordan’s back.

“We won’t let you down!” added Ophelia Wood, looking rather misty-eyed.

Jordan pulled on his gloves, shouldered his broom jauntily, and headed out of the dressing room and onto the field, his team in tow. But his broomstick wasn’t the only weight he felt on his shoulders. He felt the weight, the responsibility of the team. And he was ready to show the school what they had.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and Slytherins!” came a high, clear voice from the commentators’ box. “Just kidding, you know I had to make my biased joke of the day. No more after this, I promise. Anyway, this is the final match of the Hogwarts Quidditch cup, between the Gryffindor Germs and the Slytherin Slimeballs. See, equal-opportunity insults there! Anyway, I’m your commentator, the lovely, loquacious Haley Potter, and I’m the twin sister of the snotty jerk down there captaining the Gryffindor team.”

Jordan did not particularly appreciate that statement for some reason.

“Well, what are we waiting for? MOUNT YOUR BROOMS!” yelled Haley. “And let the match… BEGIN!”

And begin it did.

“Watch them go, two seconds into the game and the Quaffle’s been passed three times! That’s crazy! Both teams are looking pretty good,” announced Haley. “And now… WHAT THE?!” Her jaw dropped to her chest and she screamed something that sounded very much like, “SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” She couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Merlin’s beard! Merlin’s toenail clippings! Merlin’s… er…excess earwax!” she screamed in delight. “This has never, ever, ever happened before! Jordan Potter, my baby brother�”although we’re twins and he’s taller, I’m three point three minutes older�”has caught the Snitch! It’s, like, ten seconds into the game! That’s just… insanely awesome!” She was getting teary-eyed, and her increasingly incoherent shrieks were still amplified so that the entire stadium could hear. “JORDAN!” she wailed, “you’re the best brother ever, and I love you! I love you and your amazing Quidditch skills!”

The Gryffindors and most of the school roared with cheers and applause. Jordan, still hovering in the air with his fist (containing the Snitch) raised jubilantly over his head, grinned from ear to ear. He was absolutely beaming, and he looked happier than he probably ever had before. Even his own father hadn’t won a game in ten seconds.

But that particular thought, or, indeed, any thought comparing himself to his father or anyone else, didn’t even begin to penetrate his mind. Because when he was flying, he didn’t feel like he had to be anyone. He just felt happy, free, even normal�”and he felt the same rush of joy in the pit of his stomach that he had felt when he’d taken a risk and performed underage magic early in the year. He may have loved books and computers, but this, flying, gave him a feeling of confidence and joy that nothing else even came close to replicating.

The crowds converged upon Jordan, lifting him onto their shoulders and chanting, “Potter! Potter! Potter!” He saw his friends’ glowing faces and the dejected, disgusted Slytherins, and he, perfectionist that he was, felt undisturbed, untouched by trouble or worries. Who would ever want to be a Prefect when they could have this? he wondered.

* * * * * *

Emma was positively green, which rather clashed with her red clothing. She wasn’t green with envy or makeup, but rather with the sort of queasiness that came only with nerves.

It was three days after Jordan had single-handedly won the Quidditch Cup (literally single-handedly, as he had caught the Snitch with one hand), and now it was the day of the third and final Triwizard Task. She’d had the local Quidditch hero give her a crash course (luckily, not literally) in flying tricks, since she hadn’t been on a broom in awhile, and she felt prepared for the task�”it sounded like it was right up her figurative alley.

She would have to fly through an obstacle course of hoops, each of which had been made rather more dangerous by some sort of spell or hex, which she would have to break by way of counterjinxing before flying through. Still, though, she’d felt prepared for the first two tasks, and she’d failed miserably both times. She wanted to win.

She was currently taking a little stroll through the grounds to clear her head before the third task, and her feet had carried her across the grounds and back twice already. She was very nervous, more so than she’d let on in front of her friends and in front of Charybdis Nott, who had tried to anger her earlier that morning. Emma had been too nervous, in fact, to have any breakfast except for some pumpkin juice, but now her rumbling stomach made her wish that she’d had more.

She heard voices nearby�”voices that were rather familiar, but not the voices of anyone to whom she regularly spoke.

“Did you do the math?” asked a male voice. “We can’t risk making any mistakes today.”

“Don’t worry, I have it covered,” replied a female voice. “We’ve taken care of the brooms already, so our favourite for the task is definitely going to win.”

“Good,” the man said appreciatively. “Emma Weasley is good at flying from what I’ve heard, and she’d got some brains inside that pretty head of hers. She needs a perfect score, and the other two need thirty-one points for them to tie evenly.”

Emma gasped. These people had rigged the tournament! She peeked out from behind a tree and saw Cadmus Skitesby and Evadne Schiffington. What was going on?

“Hopefully, we’ll do as well as we did for the first two tasks,” sighed Schiffington, straightening her unfashionable Muggle skirt. “That new portrait that you hung up and gave the wrong directions in the second task�”that was pure inspiration.”

“And it was clever how you bewitched the balls of light to lead the other two champions the wrong way in the first task,” Skitesby added charitably.

Emma was frozen. It was like in the movies, where the villains took the opportunity to tell the hero everything evil that they’d done and how they’d done it. She had no idea what to do. She knew that what Skitesby and Schiffington were doing was completely unethical, and she had to tell someone… but if she did, she’d have no chance of even tying for the Cup. And she’d be a loser.

She’d never lost anything in her life�”not a Quidditch match, not an argument, not a competition�”and she was used to getting what she wanted. Why did this have to happen? She was getting frazzled and frightened, knowing that it was her responsibility to take action but that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

She stepped out from behind the tree and put on a sweet, innocent face that she’d probably never worn in her entire life. “Oh, hi!” she said in a breathy, girly voice, feigning surprise. “Um, do you, like, know where the third task is? ‘Cos I don’t know if it’s, like, on the Quidditch Pitch or by the lake or what.”

“It’s on the Quidditch Pitch, dear,” said Evadne. “Are you ready for the task?”

“Yes, I am,” said Emma, and she meant it.

In a stadium packed with hundreds of people, as McGonagall finished explaining the directions of the task and gave the signal for the three champions to begin their challenge, Emma got to her feet and yelled, “WAAAIT!” at the top of her lungs.

Hundreds of heads turned to stare at her.

“The Triwizard Tournament is rigged!” she shouted theatrically.

There was an equally theatrical collective gasp, followed by a deafening silence, then murmurs.

“Miss Weasley!” spluttered McGonagall, regaining her composure. “I understand that you’re upset about being in third place, and I know you want to win, but this is going a bit too far.”

“Headmistress, I am personally offended that you think I care that much about winning,” Emma said in a strong, carrying voice. She tried to keep calm instead of exploding�”getting mad wouldn’t make her any more persuasive.

“The tournament’s rigged. Skitesby and Schiffington are tampering with Vladislav and Marina’s brooms so that they won’t be able to fly as well, and they’re making sure that I get a perfect score and the other two get thirty-one points so that we all tie. And it’s not fair for Vladislav and Marina, and it isn’t fair for me, either, because I’d never know if I won ‘cos I really did a good job or because a couple of scumbags cheated for me. And I really, really HATE cheaters, so I don’t want to be one.”

There was another long silence, and everyone looked at Skitesby and Schiffington, who were both very white and stuttering incoherently.

McGonagall cleared her throat. “The Third Task is indefinitely postponed,” she said uncomfortably. “You may remain where you are, and I shall give you instructions as to what you should do when I return.”

And with that, the judges filed out of the stadium into the castle for what was sure to be a very awkward conversation for Skitesby and Schiffington. In the stands, Tancred Apple, new Minister of Magic, got to his Converse-clad feet and followed them inside, signing a few autographs on the way.

For an excruciatingly long forty-five minutes, Emma sat stiffly in a chair on the pitch, trying not to look at Marina, who was seated next to her. She wanted desperately to talk to her friends in the stands, but she couldn’t�”McGonagall had instructed that they stay put. So for that incredibly agonizing period of twenty-five minutes, she watched and waited, trying to think of her favourite songs to pass the time away but failing at doing so.

She snuck a glance into the stands and saw Ivy resting her head on Ted’s shoulder (which she couldn’t imagine being very pleasant, as Ted’s shoulders were bony, but that was hardly the point.) She wished she had such a readily available source of comfort.

In fact, she was almost on the verge of trying to recall the composition of a calming draught when McGonagall, Mr. Potter, Poliokoff, and Madame Maxime re-entered the arena. Apparently, Skitesby and Schiffington were being questioned by Apple, as they were Ministry employees, and he was, after all, the Minister of Magic.

McGonagall re-mounted the podium and announced, “I’m afraid I must give you some very grave news.” She paused, her lips tight. “Miss Weasley was correct. Cadmus Skitesby and Evadne Schiffington, for unknown reasons, did indeed rig the Triwizard Tournament so that the three champions would tie. This means that the first two tasks were unfair as well, and it would therefore be foolish to count those scores and proceed with the third task. Because of this, the Triwizard Tournament is canceled. The three champions will each receive a thousand-galleon prize, and I will call them each up individually.”

She took a bag of gold out from behind the podium. “To Marina Ghislaine Delacour Weasley of Beauxbatons, for her strength, determined spirit, and poise,” she announced. Marina got to her feet, her pale red-gold hair streaming out behind her and her extremely baggy khaki cargo trousers billowing in the breeze. She strode up to the podium, smiling out at the cheering crowd as she claimed her prize.

“To Vladislav Poliakoff of Durmstrang for his outstanding knowledge, use of logic, and focus,” McGonagall spoke as she displayed another bag of money. Vladislav received it with a serious nod, his face blank and his posture perfect.

McGonagall picked up a third bag. “And to Emma Elizabeth Weasley of Hogwarts, for her tireless perseverance and patience toward her tasks, her unflappable bravery, and her exhaustive preparation and study.”

Emma stood and walked to the podium. This was what she had dreamed of before entering the tournament, receiving her thousand-galleon prize in front of the entire school as they cheered her on, but it was nowhere near as exciting as she’d imagined. She didn’t feel like she’d earned her prize. ‘Tireless perseverance and patience toward her tasks, her unflappable bravery, and her exhaustive preparation and study’ were not enough to merit receiving a huge bag of money.

Thanks to Skitesby and Schiffington, she’d never know who would have really won the tournament. Cheating, she thought, was probably the second-most disgusting thing she could imagine. (It was second because she had once seen Ted consume a gigantic bowl of cottage cheese mixed with catsup and vegetables that still made her physically ill every time she thought about it.)

She was about to walk back to her chair and sit down when McGonagall continued, “And for her honesty in informing us about what she overheard, the panel of judges had decided to give Emma the Triwizard Cup.” With that, she handed the cup to Emma, a rare smile flitting across her lips.

The trophy was very heavy and beautifully ornate, and she couldn’t imagine touching, let along owning, anything so fancy-looking. Dreamlike, she lifted up the trophy and the audience erupted into cheers and applause. Even Tyrone�”to whom Emma was not speaking and vice-versa�”wolf-whistled loudly through his teeth. Emma knew that doing the right thing had made her the real champion�”and it was worth more than the thousand galleons and the expensive trophy that she held.

At some point--it was all a blur--they were dismissed from the stadium, and Emma found herself in the Common Room. Her mother had sobbed sentimental motherly things at her about how proud she was. Conversely, she and her father had done the elaborate secret handshake that they’d invented when she was five, and he told her in an unsentimental fatherly manner that since she’d already busted some bad guys at her tender age, she would kick some serious backside as an Auror. Only Ron didn’t actually say ‘backside.’

And now, Emma’s friends were swarming around her, asking questions and (in Haley’s case) helping her make a list of things to buy with her prize money. But something was missing from the scene. Or rather, someone. Ivy was nowhere to be seen.

“Have any of you seen Ivy?” Haley asked suddenly, looking around.

“No,” Ted said, bewildered. “I don’t know when she got away from the group. She was sitting right near me at the Third Task.”

“Yes,” said Jordan with a twisted, sarcastic smile. “Very near you. In fact, I don’t know whether ‘near’ or ‘on’ would be the proper word to�””

“You know, that is not revelant,” Haley interjected, stepping between the two boys.

Jordan smirked. “I believe the word you were so valiantly attempting to use there was ‘relevant,’” he told her.

“Did someone forget to take his happy pill today?” Haley asked caustically.

“Did someone forget to put her brain in the right way today?”

“Did someone forget to adjust his attitude today?”

“Did someone forget to pay the monthly rent on her hippocampus today?”

“Did someone…” Haley paused. “What’s a hippocampus?”

“Exactly!” crowed Jordan. The twins continued in this vein for quite awhile. Ted and Emma stared blankly at each other.

“Maybe we should just slowly walk away,” suggested Ted.

“Excellent idea,” Emma agreed. “But really, this has nothing to do with what I was saying earlier about Ivy. She’s gone off missing, and this isn’t the first time, either.”

“I noticed that, too,” Ted mused over the twins’ exclamations of ‘Do not!’ ‘Do, too!’ (They seemed to be, rather ironically, arguing over whether or not Haley had a juvenile mind.) “What do you think Ivy’s been up to?”

As if on cue, the door to the Common Room burst open and in raced Ivy. She looked uncharacteristically disheveled�”wisps of hair were coming undone from her usually tidy braid, she appeared to have a smudge of earth on her cheek, the knees of her normally spotless robes were stained with grass, and her light grey eyes were wide. She doubled over, gasping for breath�”she had clearly run all the way over as fast as her legs could carry her.

“I just saw something!” she panted. “It’s really important… but I… well…” she paused, trying to find the right words. “First, before I tell you what I’ve seen, I have to tell you something else… something I’ve been keeping from you all year…”

* * * * * *

Ivy’s heart was racing sixteen point three miles a minute. She had never known exactly why she was keeping this a secret. It wasn’t a bad secret, and it wasn’t embarrassing… but she had been hoping to reveal it at the exact right time, maybe when Madame Patil had finished her project on teen werewolves so that Ivy could be there for Ted’s transformations again.

But she was sure that her friends would be a bit upset that she had kept something as big as this a secret all year�”especially gossip-loving Haley, who she was sure would feel personally injured that Ivy hadn’t chosen to share this with her.

Her mouth suddenly felt dry and cottony. She moistened her cracked lips with her tongue and said, “You know how I was studying really hard at the beginning of the year?” Four heads nodded, their expressions of mixed interest and bewilderment. “Well,” Ivy continued, not knowing how to say this, “I was teaching myself something I’ve wanted to learn for ages… and, er, well, here it is!” She took a deep breath, took a step back from her friends… and changed.

Where the delicate-looking blonde girl had been, there stood a beautiful pure-white arctic fox, the only sign of Ivy left in it its jewel-bright grey eyes. It had thick, soft fur and dainty claws, a lovely specimen of its kind.

Emma looked as though she was sure she was having a very strange dream, Jordan’s jaw became briefly acquainted with the floor, and Haley fell backward out of her chair with a painful-sounding crash. But Ted’s eyes, full of shock for a moment, crinkled up into a smile of joyous disbelief.

The fox took a step forward, and Ivy-the-girl was standing before them again, beaming at her friends with a shining face.

“Ivy… I can’t believe it!” Ted croaked. “You’re an Animagus! In your fifth year! That’s… that’s amazing!”

Ivy grinned. “I got the idea awhile ago when Haley said on the train to Hogwarts in our third year that she, Emma, and I would be the Maraudettes�”Fringe, Whisk, and Lightfoot�”and I’ve always really admired the Marauders. And in their fifth year, the Marauders became Animagi for their werewolf friend. Well, I know Ted always feels kind of weird transforming while I watch, so I thought it might be nice if we, you know, transformed together. And I worked really hard to do it, but I’m really glad I did, and, well, you saw my Animagus form. It’s the same as my Patronus, which is interesting… so you can keep calling me Lightfoot. Or… or… Ivy. Ivy works, too.”

Her friends were speechless; conversely, Ivy had just said the most at one time that she had in quite awhile.

“Wow,” breathed Ted. “You really didn’t have to do all that for me. I feel bad that you did all that work just to make my transformations easier for me.”

Ivy hugged him. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m so glad I did this. I can’t wait to transform with you.”

Haley cleared her throat very loudly and dramatically. “Righty-o,” she said loudly. “Sorry to, uh, break up the lovely mushiness and all, but I just have to say, I can’t believe that you, the goody-goody little prefect that you are, broke wizarding law�”not the guidelines, not the school rules, but a law�”to become an unregistered Animagus. That’s, like, really serious.”

“It is,” Jordan said strictly, actually agreeing with his twin for once. “And I can’t believe that you didn’t take that into consideration. “You could actually go to Azkaban for it. That’s an incredibly big sacrifice to make just for a friend.”

Ivy laughed. “Don’t worry,” she told them. “I’m registered. My name’s listed on all the official documents. I signed up on Christmas Eve just before the, erm, well, the whole broom closet incident…” she blushed slightly and couldn’t quite seem to meet Ted’s eyes. “ANYWAY!” she said a bit more forcefully, eager to change the subject. “I’m actually the first Animagus to register for the twenty-first century, so I’m really kind of proud about that.”

Jordan coughed nervously. It was wonderful to learn about his sister’s accomplishments, and to see her so happy and confident-looking, but he had just remembered something. “What was the thing you saw that you had to tell us about?” he prompted.

The smile vanished from Ivy’s face. “Apple,” she said, going very pale indeed. “He’s… he’s evil. I overheard him talking, and he’s going to do something illegal to the Muggles who come to the speech he’s giving tonight!”

Everyone stared, mouths agape. “Apple?” squeaked Haley. “But… he loves Muggles! He’s Muggle-born!” Maybe Ivy was mistaken… he’d always seemed like such a nice man.

“Voldemort’s father was a Muggle,” Jordan pointed out darkly. “Ivy, what exactly happened?”

Ivy took a seat. “For the last couple months, I’ve kind of been sneaking out at night to transform and get used to moving around like a fox and everything. And after the Third Task, I went into the forest and transformed and started walking around. Well, my hearing’s a lot better as a fox, so I heard some voices, and it was weird, because I recognized them as Apple and Skitesby and Schiffington. Only it didn’t sound like Apple was mad at them, which was weird, because Skitesby and Schiffington had just been caught rigging the Triwizard Tournament.

“So I walked a little deeper into the forest and I heard Apple say, ‘…so, tonight at the speech at Regent’s Park, the Muggles are going to get it.’ And then, Schiffington said, ‘Be careful, Tancred. You know it’s illegal. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be thrown in Azkaban.’ And that was when I came running up here.”

Jordan sat down and gripped his head in his hands. “I need to think,” he said in a low voice. “We have to do something about this.”

“Shouldn’t we tell Dad?” Ivy asked anxiously. “Or some teacher or something?”

“There’s no time for that!” snapped Jordan. “According to what I read in the newspapers, Apple’s going to give a speech in about an hour. If we have to go all the way over to the Auror office at the Ministry and explain everything again, the Aurors may not get there in time. It’s safer if we’re over there as witnesses and then try to get the Aurors if there’s time.”

“You read the Muggle newspapers?” Ted asked with some interest.

“He’ll read anything you shove in front of him,” Emma replied. She looked around anxiously. “What do you think Apple’s going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jordan. “But I’m starting to think up a plan. We’ll need to get at least four more people, though. You four, go and get some friends to help us out, and I’ll work on my plan,” he instructed.

No one complained about his bossiness as they took off�”there was no time to argue, and besides, Jordan happened to be a very intelligent boy. The authoritative tone of his voice helped, too. “Meet up in the Room of Requirement in five minutes,” he called after the others. And Potter’s Pentagon went their separate ways, planning to rejoin as nine.

* * * * * *

Ted rapped frantically on the door to the Beauxbatons carriage. Five minutes was not a long time, and he had to be both speedy and persuasive in his argument. He took a slow, calming breath as a sharp-featured boy opened the door “Hi,” said Ted, somewhat out of breath. “Could you please get Arden DuBois and tell her that Theo’s here? It’s kind of important.”

The boy squinted. “Arden…” he said in a thick French accent, then his eyes lit up with recognition. “Yes, I know her. She does not say very much.”

“I need her help,” Ted told the boy, keeping his voice friendly although there was an underlying urgency to his tone.

“I will get her, then,” The boy responded, then disappeared back into the carriage.

A few seconds later, Arden appeared, the black traveling cloak she wore over her powder blue robes matching the black ribbon that was invariably tied around her throat. “Theo? You wanted to see me?” she asked, a note of confusion in her voice.

“There’s something bad going on over in London,” Ted told her. “And my friends and I could really use your help.”

“Tonight?” Arden winced. “But it will be a full moon!”

Ted shrugged. “Never stopped me,” he said. “Did you take your potion?”

“Yes, but…”

Ted stopped. He didn’t want to drag his friend into anything that she didn’t want to do. He was a Gryffindor, and he’d always been brave (“to the point of stupidity,” as Emma often said fondly), but Arden was more reserved and apprehensive than he was. And then there was the matter that no one knew she was a werewolf.

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to,” he let her know. “I didn’t think about the fact that everyone will find out you’re a werewolf if you come. I’m just a little bit, you know, distraught. I’m not thinking straight.”

But Arden’s navy blue eyes were resolved. “If you need help, then I will come,” she said quietly. “Let’s go.”

Ted blinked, then grinned. “All right,” he agreed.

* * * * * *

“VLAAAAADISLAAAAAV!” screamed Haley, racing across the grounds with her arms outstretched like an airplane about to take off.

Vladislav Poliakoff, who was sitting by the lake reading a book of some sort, looked up, a look of surprise passing briefly over his usually unexpressive features. “Me?” he asked.

“Nooo, I named the giant squid Vladislav,” replied Haley, rolling her eyes. “OF COURSE YOU!” she yelled.

“What did I do?” asked Vladislav.

Haley found this response rather humorous, as the boy struck her as the kind of person who had never done anything worth blame in his life. “Listen, something’s really wrong, and my brother’s trying to stop it, and he said to get as many people as possible to help.”

“Your brother? Is he the Quidditch player?” asked Vladislav.

“Yeah,” said Haley. “But that’s not impor�””

“He is very like his father,” the boy said.

Haley snorted. “No, not really,” she told him. “But really, he wants people to help with this, and he may be a genius, but I’m not, and we need all of the brainpower we can get for this. And I figured I’d get you, since you’re smart.”

“Not that smart,” muttered Vladislav, but he got to his feet, stowing his book in his bag. “What is the problem, anyway?”

“Tancred Apple,” Haley let him know succinctly.

“I’ll help,” Vladislav agreed quickly, and followed her back to the castle.

* * * * * *

Ivy knew who she needed to recruit, but she wasn’t sure her victim would take to the idea. The ‘victim’ in question was sitting at a table in the library, chatting with her friends and not doing any studying or reading whatsoever. “Marina?” she said cautiously, stepping out from behind a bookcase.

Her cousin looked up. “Please don’t talk to me about Emma. I’m not taking any stock in the whole ‘she means well’ speech,” she told Ivy, tossing her outrageously long strawberry-blonde hair so that it hung down the back of the library chair and brushed the floor.

“This isn’t about Emma,” Ivy replied, realizing that her voice sounded depressingly childish. “And it’s not about me, either. It’s a bit more important than that.”

Marina blinked. “Is it someone in the family?” she asked, going pale. “Don’t tell me something’s happened to our grandparents?”

Ivy shook her head frantically, then realized that several of Marina’s Beauxbatons friends were watching with interest. Although French was their first language, Ivy was sure that they spoke enough English to comprehend what she was about to say. “I think we should talk about this alone,” stated Ivy, nodding over toward the corridor.

“Er, okay…” said Marina, her eyes wide with confusion.

As soon as they were out in the hallway, Ivy blurted, “People in the Ministry�”even Tancred Apple… especially him�”are going to do illegal things to Muggles in London, and Jordan and Ted and Haley, and Emma and I can’t handle it on our own. We need your help.”

“Why?” asked Marina, her hands on her hips. “I thought I was the enemy.”

Ivy was worried now�”she only had five minutes. “Who cares?” she exclaimed more forcefully than she’d intended. She didn’t mean to sound angry or loud; Ivy was usually nothing if not quiet and tactful. But she took this personally, and for some odd reason, she couldn’t restrain herself for once, couldn’t be quiet and accommodating. “It doesn’t matter if Emma was mad at you. Do the Muggles care if you like each other or not? They’ll just care that you helped save their lives!”

“Ivy, you…” began Marina.

Ivy interrupted her. “Last year, Malfoy did horrible things to Muggles and innocent people. How do you think I felt? I knew him, and he was doing terrible things, and there was nothing I could do about it. Now I can help keep people from getting hurt by Apple, and it would be really pathetic if we couldn’t do it just because two girls were jealous of each other.”

Marina stared at her cousin. “Ivy, have you ever seriously considered becoming, like, a marriage counselor?”

“No…” Ivy responded, her voice soft and gentle again. “Why?”

“Because that was the most convincing speech ever,” replied Marina, fixing the belt on her voluminous trousers. “And you made me feel guilty, which isn’t easy. I’m coming.”

* * * * * *

“I must be insane,” Emma groused to herself. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do… but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Hey,” she called, her voice echoing down the hallway.

A tall, curly-haired figure standing halfway down the corridor turned around at the sound of Emma’s voice.

“Hi, Tyrone,” Emma said, her voice uncertain and nervous. Merlin, why did she sound like a three-year-old on helium?

“Why are you being so buddy-buddy with me all of a sudden?” replied Tyrone, his voice frosty. His dark eyes were cold and distant, his jaw was set, and his lip curled�”he was suddenly very formidable-looking. It was easy to forget how big he was.

His words stung. Especially since they were Emma’s own, thrown harshly back at her. It was like looking in a brutally honest mirror on a bad-hair day. “Hey, listen…” she stammered.

“What do you want to yell at me for this time?” Tyrone asked coolly. “What tiny little thing have I done to tick you off now?”

“I need your help,” she said in a small voice quite unlike her own. One thing about Tyrone Thomas was that he liked everyone unless proven otherwise, and the thing that bothered him the most was when people didn’t give him the attention or respect that he wanted. It seemed Emma had treated him tactlessly one too many times.

“Actually, a lot of people need your help. Tancred Apple… he’s trying to do something bad to the Muggles, and Jordan’s asked me to get people to help stop him. And… you’re pretty brave, so I figured, you know, why not get Tyrone?”

Tyrone’s face, always expressive, changed instantly. His icy, indifferent eyes went wide with shock, his eyebrows shot up, and his mouth gaped. “Apple?” he confirmed. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” Emma said grimly.

“Is he going to kill them?” the boy asked quietly.

Emma sighed. “I don’t know. All we know is that he’s going to do something illegal to them.” Tyrone started to say something, but she cut him off. “Listen, I only have five minutes to convince you, and I don’t plan on using the Imperius Curse to do it.”

“I don’t need convincing,” Tyrone told her in a low voice. “My mum was murdered last year by Muggle-haters even though she was a pureblood, remember? I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that, especially Muggles who can’t put up a decent fight. I’m going, no further questions.”

“There can be times,” thought Emma, “when Tyrone can actually be really cool.”

* * * * * *

Jordan was in his element when the eight students entered the Room of Requirement. He sat in an armchair, and his posture was straight and demanded attention, completely unlike his usual slump. He gripped the arms of his chair in a commanding manner, and his head was set at a dignified angle. He was in Quidditch Captain mode.

He looked powerful and in charge, and Haley suddenly felt intimidated by her twin. Something about the way he was sitting was completely alien and unfamiliar, and she almost wondered whether she really knew her brother after all.

Jordan scanned the group�”Ted and Arden, Emma and Tyrone, Haley and Vladislav, and Ivy and Marina. “Excellent,” he said. “You’re probably all wondering what we’re going to do, so I’ll get right down to it. We’re going to�””

“Wait!” said Arden. Everyone stared�”Arden DuBois had never interrupted anyone in her entire life. In fact, no one in attendance but Ted had ever seen her speak. Arden opened her mouth, but no sound came out. All eyes were on her. “I… I…” she looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of speaking in front of eight other people. She turned toward Ted. “I can’t do it,” she whimpered.

Ted smiled encouragingly. “Come on,” he whispered. “Somebody’s got to explain before we go�”and better you than me!”

Everyone was still staring at Arden. The girl closed her dark blue eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and said, “I think you should all hear of the truth about something that only Theo and I know.” She looked over to Ted for support. “I… I am a werewolf,” she told the others in a voice quieter and softer than the breeze blowing over a field of grass.

Ted stepped forward and began to speak, his words filling the vacuum of silence that had been created after Arden’s confession “And…well, I lied to you,” he told them. “Madame Patil wasn’t really doing a project on teenaged werewolves. It was just, Arden didn’t want anyone to know that she was a werewolf, and she transformed with me every full moon in the Shrieking Shack. So I couldn’t let you come and watch during my transformations, because then you’d find out about Arden. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Unlike the girl, who had stared down at her feet as she spoke, Ted looked up at his friends’ faces. His glance lingered upon Ivy, who looked rather pinch-faced as she always did when uncomfortable.

“I know I shouldn’t have lied to all of you. I’d have felt lousy if one of my friends had lied about something that big to me all year long. But it wasn’t like I didn’t trust you or anything like that. I really hope you’re not mad at me, but I guess I’d get it if you were.”

He smiled slightly after delivering this speech, despite himself. He’d known it would he hard, but Arden had done it. She’d told a crowd of people her biggest secret, and she barely even knew any of them. She’d been truly brave�”it hadn’t been especially brave of Ted to have told everyone that he was a werewolf after being bitten because he wasn’t even a bit apprehensive about it. He felt no different than always after being bitten, and he saw lycanthropy as nothing to be ashamed of.

But Arden had been brave because the idea of revealing the truth completely terrified her, and the bravest thing of all is to face your fears. Ted couldn’t begin to say how proud he was of his friend.

Meanwhile, Ivy stared up at Ted, unsure of what to think. She’d thought that they knew absolutely everything about each other, but here was something that he’d hidden from her all year… it suddenly dawned on her that maybe this was how he had felt when she had revealed that she was an Animagus.

But she knew�”and she knew that it wasn’t selfish when it was true�”that Ted liked her and wanted to spend time with her, and he wasn’t trying to be deceptive when he lied about Arden. He was just helping another friend; Arden couldn’t stand up for herself. And now, everything made so much more sense�”how Ted had come to know the French girl in the first place, why she saw them together so often, the thing that Ted had been ‘helping’ Arden with that he’d mentioned that night in the broom closet.

Jordan cleared his throat loudly, and eight heads turned to look at him. “Right, that’s very interesting,” he said, so nonchalantly that Arden had to smile, “but we’re going to have to pull off my plan, so we’d best get to the details.” He paused. “And after that, there’s one more person I’d like to bring.”

* * * * * *

“That’s insane!” gasped Marina as Jordan finished recounting his tale. “We’ll never be able to do it! There are so many things that could go wrong!”

“There are many components,” agreed Jordan, sounding like a textbook, albeit an unusually calm textbook. “But there are many way that the plan could succeed as well. So if Group A fails at one part, then Group B fails, there’s still Group C to rely on. But hopefully, that won’t happen.”

Haley raised her hand. “Yes?” said Jordan, feeling like a teacher calling on a student in class.

“Why the names Group A, Group B, and Group C?” she asked. “I don’t want to be in Group C! It makes it sound like we’re not as good as Group A.”

“You can call it anything you like,” Jordan told her testily, “as long as we do this properly. Now, I have to go pick up someone to help us out.”

“Right, we’re now called Team Sparkle!” Haley proclaimed to the other members of her group. Vladislav raised an eyebrow disdainfully, and Haley whirled around and glared at him. “Be very glad that I’m not making you wear this pockety jacket and be the Team Sparkle mascot,” she hissed. “No more eyebrow antics, please-kay-thanks.”

Ivy and Ted looked at each other. “I’m fine with Team B for our group, personally,” said Ivy.

“Me, too,” agreed the other Team B members. They didn’t pretend to understand Haley’s mind�”it was a confusing thing.

Meanwhile, Jordan pulled some floo powder out of a small bag and walked toward the fireplace. Normally, only the fireplace in Professor G.W.’s office was used for student floo transportation, but this was the Room of Requirement after all, and they required a floo network.

He tossed the powder into the fire, which blazed green, and stepped inside. “To Number Seven, Griffin Circle, Godric’s Hollow,” he said deliberately.

“Yeah, uh, why are you going home?” asked Ivy, her voice rather frantic. “Why are you skipping out of school?”

“He said he has to go get someone,” Tyrone reminded her. “Maybe it’s your dad.”

Jordan shook his head just before he was whirled away. “Dad’s at work.” And with that, he disappeared.

Everyone exchanged glances. “Should we follow him over?” asked Ivy, looking nervous.

“Jordan likes to do things on his own,” Haley said thoughtfully.

Emma, who had been pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, stopped sharply, and her head snapped toward Haley, making her look mildly possessed. “What?” she exclaimed loudly, clearly agitated. “Just let Jordan go ahead and do it on his own? Remember last time Jordan tried to handle something all by himself?” There was a pause�”no one had forgotten how Jordan had defeated Malfoy the previous year, but not without some help from his friends, who had gone after him.

“I never said that,” Haley told her. “I said that Jordan likes to do things on his own, not that he should. He’s smart, but he’s not perfect. I say we go after him.”

Vladislav stood up. “Agreed,” he said, speaking for the first time since being brought into the room.

Emma grinned. “Seconded.”

“Third-ed!” exclaimed Tyrone, getting to his feet.

“Um… fourth’d?” Ted said sheepishly, standing as well.

“I’ll go with that!” Marina added, her hair swishing behind her as she stood.

“Me, too,” Ivy said.

All heads turned toward Arden, who said nothing. When she saw the attention that was fixated on her, she blinked. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“Well, we want to know what you have to say on the subject,” Tyrone told her.

Arden’s eyes widened. “Why do you want my opinion?” she asked softly.

Her fellow werewolf placed a hand on her shoulder. “Because you’re part of the group,” he said. His voice was light, but his meaning wasn’t and after letting this set in, Arden whispered, “I’m in.”

Ted smiled crookedly. “So,” he said, “What are we waiting for?”

* * * * * *

Jordan stepped out of his own fireplace and onto the nice, clean rug. Well, at least, it had been nice and clean before he’d trodden all over it with his dirty feet. He brushed flecks of ash from his body, ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to try and control it, and strolled out the front door.

Of course, his final destination hadn’t been is house�”it had merely been a stop along the way. The home he intended to visit wasn’t part of the Floo network, and his own home was the closest house in the network.

He walked out onto the street in front of his house and turned left. A burning lump rose, sunlike, in his throat as he contemplated what he was going to do. He was nervous, but he knew he could do this. He marched up the door of the next house and rang the doorbell.

There was what sounded like a loud ‘crash’ inside the house, and a few seconds later, the door swung open. A girl stood in the doorway, tall and skinny and dressed in quite an odd assortment of clothes. She wore a neon blue top with puffed sleeves, a red-and-white polka-dotted necktie that looked like she’d stolen it from Ted, painfully bright red-and-white striped leggings, plaid Converse shoes with the word ‘right’ written on her right toe and ‘wrong’ written on her left toe, huge peace-symbol earrings, countless bracelets, and a black headband with fuzzy cat ears attached. Her hair, chopped off short at the ear, was dyed maroon and two tiny pigtails sprouted from the top of her head.

“Whoa,” she said, blinking at Jordan. “Hi.”

“Hi, Giorgi,” Jordan replied, somewhat nervously. He glanced at her hair, which had been neon tangerine the last time he’d seen her, and added, “You look, uh, different.”

“So do you,” replied Giorgi.

Jordan snorted. “Well, sorry if I’m uglier than you remembered, but, no, I haven’t changed. Except, obviously, I have changed my clothes, but you know what I mean.” He was stumbling over his words, something he never did. Usually, everything he said was logical and well-thought-out, but his mind was elsewhere at the moment.

This was not lost on Giorgi. “You sound freaked out,” she told him. “What’s wrong? Why are you here, anyway? Last time I checked, you were up in Scotland.”

“I just got back,” said Jordan. “Erm, listen, there’s a problem, and it’s kind of incredibly serious, and I wanted you to help me with it.”

“All the way from Scotland, huh?” Giorgi raised her eyebrows. “I’m flattered, but I’m not bailing anyone out of jail.”

Jordan did not laugh. “It’s not just my problem,” he said. “It concerns my whole world… yours, too.”

“Your whole world? Planning on taking over the planet anytime soon?” Giorgi smirked.

Jordan looked up at her very seriously and took a very deep breath. He knew that it was dangerous to tell Muggles about magic, but it had happened before�”Muggle parents with magical children knew about magic, and so did many Muggles married to wizards. Giorgi was a trusted friend, and she was also crazy enough anyway that even if she did tell anyone about magic, no one would believe her.

His mind resolutely made up, Jordan looked straight into her eyes (which wasn’t that easy, seeing as she was considerably taller). “Giorgi,” he said, his voice low but determined. “I’m a wizard.” The words seemed to ring in the air.

The girl’s expression was bemused. “You’re… you’re a what?”

“I’m magical,” Jordan informed her. “Remember when you told me about the Harry Potter books and I was so surprised? It’s because they’re all true! Harry Potter�”the real Harry Potter�”is my dad, and my mum’s Ginny. Hermione and Ron are Emma’s parents. Ted’s Professor Lupin and Tonks’s son. And we all go to Hogwarts.” There. He’d said it.

Giorgi burst out laughing. “You are such a nutcase,” she let him know. “You�”” She trailed off when she saw Jordan’s eyes, dark, purposeful, and completely devoid of humour.

Jordan reached into his belt and unsheathed his wand. It was dark and glossy, twelve inches long and made of rowan with a dragon heartstring core�”definitely not a random stick that one would pick up at a playground. “This is my wand,” he said. “I’m not supposed to do magic outside of school, especially in front of the Muggles, but if you really don’t believe me, then I’ll have to risk it.”

He pointed his wand at a huge boulder and whispered, “Wingardium Leviosa,” swishing and flicking his wand expertly. It was a first-year charm, nothing special, and about as difficult for Jordan as blinking. As light as a dandelion puff, the boulder floated up into the air, high above their heads, and levitated there as if suspended until Jordan lightly returned it to its original location.

Giorgi’s jaw dropped like a broken elevator. Her eyes were like saucers, and her lanky frame was doubled over in disbelief. “I… I don’t believe it!” she gasped. “You’re… you did… you can’t… you”

“I don’t play football, either,” Jordan told her matter-of-factly. “I lied to you�”but I had to. In any case, what I really play is Quidditch. I wasn’t lying about being captain, though, or the ten-second game�”that part was true.”

Giorgi looked absolutely ill, and she sat down heavily on her front porch to keep her head from spinning. “It’s all true?” she said in a very small voice. “Voldemort and everything?”

Jordan nodded. She was accepting this much faster than he’d thought�”he supposed it was lucky that the Harry Potter books were around, because if Giorgi hadn’t had that background knowledge, explaining the wizarding world would take eons.

“If it’s true…then… I can’t believe you lied to me about all of that for so long! Like, you talked about your chemistry class�”were you just making that up? The whole thing with your chemistry professor and the potato? And what about your father being a cop, and the contest Emma’s in?” she demanded, her voice gaining speed and strength as she spoke.

“I only met you one time before we started writing emails… what if it turns out that you’re really a juvenile delinquent who’s flunking school and the smart kid you’re supposed to be is just all made up?” Her voice was rising to a frantic crescendo.

For once, Jordan didn’t know what to say or do. His mind and judgment were flawless when it came to schoolwork or other intellectual matters, but feelings completely alienated him. He’d never understood emotions, and had dealt with his own by suppressing them as much as possible. But now, he had genuinely hurt his friend, and he didn’t know what to do to regain her trust.

“The truth is,” he told her, “I wanted to have just one friend who could actually see me for who I am�”and you do know me, because I didn’t lie about anything but magical things�”without knowing about my dad. He’s Harry Potter. He’s essentially a wizarding superhero, and I absolutely loathe it when people compare me to him. I liked being just Jordan Potter for once, as opposed to Jordan-the-son-of-Potter.”

He broke off and looked up at Giorgi, whose expression was that of someone who couldn’t decide which expression to wear and so combined them all at once. “I’ll have to take you for a ride sometime on the back of my broomstick,” he told her. “It’s amazing… you’d really enjoy it. You can see everything from up in the clouds, and everything seems so small… er, literally and metaphorically.”

He had no idea what had gotten into him. He was a logical thinker, not a poet, so why was he rhapsodizing about feelings and colours and flying? But as odd as it felt to say such things, oddly enough, it was just the right thing to say.

Giorgi smiled confusedly and said, “You know what, I’m pretty sure that this is all a weird dream anyway, but in some whacked-out way, this makes sense. I always thought it was kind of strange that I live in a town called Godric’s Hollow and that my dad’s boss at Grunnings is named Dudley Dursley. But… if this really is real and you really are a wizard�”and seriously, based on your personality, you’re the last person I can imagine having anything to do with magic�”I can see why you didn’t tell me. If you just, like, said ‘Hey, how are you? I’m Jordan, and I’m a wizard!’ when I first met you, I might have thought you were just some loony.”

Jordan gave her a half-smile. “Well, I am some loony. But then, we’re all loonies, aren’t we?”

“Especially me,” added Giorgi. She blinked. “Wait a minute, you said that there was a big problem before you told me the whole… magic thing. What was that?”

Jordan gasped and looked at his watch. “Oh, no!” he growled. “I was supposed to have brought you back to Hogwarts to meet my friends ages ago. I’ll have to be fast…” He couldn’t believe how much time this simple conversation was taking. “Giorgi, you do know who Tancred Apple is, correct?”

“Duh,” she responded. “He’s the Prime Minister!”

“Yes, but he’s also the Minister of Magic,” Jordan told her plainly. “And… he’s about to give a speech in Regent’s Park, and apparently, he’s planning on doing something illegal to the Muggles who are there. I thought it might help if we had a Muggle with us since none of us have ever really pretended to impersonate Muggles before, so I came to recruit you.”

Giorgi looked as though she’d just been clonked by a giant anvil. “TANCRED APPLE IS A WIZARD, TOO?” she screeched.

“Shh!” Jordan cautioned sharply. “You never know who’s listening?”

“He seemed so nice, though!” Giorgi exclaimed. “He… he really wants to hurt people like me?”

“That’s what Ivy said,” Jordan replied gravely.

Giorgi stood up and did a rather dramatic twirl, her arms outstretched. “So, just as a recap�”Apple’s a wizard…”

“Correct,” said Jordan.

“And he wants to hurt Muggles.”

“Correct.”

“And I’m a Muggle.”

“Yes.”

“And so you want me to go over to where he is?”

“Ye… oh. I do see your point,” Jordan noted. “Please, come though. Nothing bad will happen to you�”I happen to be an extremely capable wizard after all, and eight of my other friends will be there as well.”

Giorgi raised her eyebrows. “You know what, you are freakishly convincing. You could sell Decapitations For Tenpence, and you’d somehow still find a way to get people to come.”

“Is that a yes?” asked Jordan.

“I’d call it more of a ‘sure, why not,’” replied Giorgi.

“Well, that’s good enough for me.” Jordan shrugged. “Now, I should really get you back to Hogwarts to meet up with my fr…” He stopped speaking when he saw a most unusual sight. Eight people, all dressed in Muggle clothing but each carrying what were obviously wands (or else large pretzel sticks) were running toward them from the Potters’ house.

Jordan made an indignant noise in the back of his throat. “This was not included in the plan,” he informed them.

“Neither was you taking so long,” replied Emma. “This is the part where you’re supposed to be grateful.”

Jordan looked rather taken aback. He coughed slightly, then said, “People, this is Giorgi. Giorgi… these… are people.” After realizing how incredibly moronic he sounded, he added, “More specifically, Haley, Ted, Emma, Ivy, Tyrone, Marina, Arden, and, Vladislav.”

Now it was Giorgi’s turn to look taken aback. “Uhh, hi, Haley, Ted, Emma, Ivy… uh, I’m sorry I forgot your name, the tall curly-haired one, er, Maria�”is that right?, Arden, and Vladithingy,” she muttered disorientedly.

“Vladithingy?” repeated Vladislav.

“Sorry,” mumbled Giorgi, shifting from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed. “So, uh, are you all wizards?”

The other eight all nodded patiently, as if they’d just been asked if they all had heads.

Giorgi smiled shyly. “Well, I’m a Muggle,” she said. She held up her hands before the others could say anything else. “Yeah, I know all about magic and stuff, thanks to Jordan. But yeah, even though I can’t do any magic and I’m pretty much lame, I want to help.”

There was a bit of a stunned silence, the awkward kind that seems to stretch on forever. Like with so many other things, Haley was the one to break it. “Wow, okay, I am really surprised here. I can’t believe that, A. Jordan went against the rules and told Muggles about magic, and B., he somehow managed to make a friend that’s actually cool all on his own.”

Giorgi beamed. “Thanks,” she said happily, then paused. “You know what?” she asked, then answered her own rhetorical question without even waiting for a reply. “Whatever Jordan’s plan is, we should probably start actually doing it.”

Jordan stiffened, and his eyes flashed with authority once again. He suddenly looked years older. “Right,” he said. “We should floo over to Regent’s Park, and the fastest way to do it is from the fireplace in my house, so everybody follow me inside.”

It must have been a humorous sight, the ten of them traipsing back over the walkway, up the front steps, and into the door of the Potter mansion. But humour was the last thing on Jordan’s mind�”his focus had slipped too many times already, when what was really important was stopping Tancred Apple from whatever he was planning to do.

He was by nature a motivated person who had no trouble concentrating on things, but his nerves were getting in the way�”he was very bright, but his brightness surpassed his bravery. This was real and extremely important, he reminded himself, not just some test for school.

Jordan shook his head in disbelief as he led the party into his living room. He couldn’t believe that he’d just thought of a school test as unimportant.

He took a handful of floo powder from the dish on top of the mantle and threw it into the fireplace, causing green flames to shoot up with a gentle roar. Giorgi exclaimed, “Oh!” softly, having obviously never seen floo powder in action before.

“Regent’s Park,” Jordan said clearly after stepping into the flame (which frightened Giorgi even more). And then, he was gone in a whir of green light.

Emma was the next to go, followed by Haley, Tyrone, Marina, Ivy, Vladislav, and Arden. But Giorgi stood on the spot, staring helplessly.

“Okay, I do NOT want to walk into the fire,” she said determinedly.

Ted, who was about to step into the fireplace himself, stopped where he was and turned around. “That’s right,” he remarked. “I forgot, you’ve never used floo powder before. It’s not so bad.”

“I’m no rocket scientist,” Giorgi told him, “but I do know that fire burns you. I learned that when I was little�”fire is ouchy. I’m not going in there.”

“Watch me,” replied Ted, throwing some powder into the fireplace and slowly letting the green flames envelop him. “It doesn’t hurt.” Giorgi’s expression did not change, and Ted said softly, “Do you want to do it together? I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“Well… all right,” Giorgi said hesitantly. She had heard a lot about Ted in Jordan’s emails, and what she had heard seemed to be true. She began to walk slowly toward the fireplace, but stopped abruptly before actually stepping into the flames.

“Listen, Giorgi, they also taught you when you were little that there was no such thing as magic, but now you know that’s not true. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to forget some of the stuff you learned before you knew about magic,” Ted told her, lapsing into peer counseling mode. “Just trust me. You’ll be okay.”

Giorgi exhaled a long breath, squinched her eyes shut, and took a step into the fireplace. It didn’t burn. It was warm and tingly, and not at all painful, and she slowly opened her eyes. “One small step for me,” she said, grinning. “One giant leap for Muggles everywhere.”

Ted grinned back. “Great job,” he told her. “You’re really fast at this whole magic thing. Muggle born kids usually take a lot longer to adjust.” And then, he announced loudly, “Regent’s Park!” and the two of them were whirling away, everything a green blur whizzing past their faces.

And just as quickly as it had begun, it all stopped. Giorgi fell flat on her face as she flopped out of the fireplace, dizzier than a tipsy goat. “I wanna ride again!” she chirped jokingly after peeling her face off of the ground. She was wearing a wide, goofy smile, and her eyes were dancing.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Ted told her, helping her to her feet.

“I guess you were right,” she agreed, bounding over to Jordan. She flicked the back of his ear hard, causing him undue pain and suffering, as she said sarcastically, “So, you were a gentleman and waited for me ‘cos you knew floo powder would flip me out, right?”

Jordan, the boy who could read everything but emotions, looked rather startled. “I didn’t know you’d need help.”

“Could’ve asked,” Giorgi told him darkly, though she wasn’t really serious. “Ted helped me, though, so I’m fine. Ted’s a really nice bloke. Very THOUGHTFUL. You know, unlike some people.”

Jordan cleared his throat. “Enough,” he said sharply, regaining his almost dictatorial poise and tone of voice. “It’s time for us to split up. Giorgi and I are Team A, so we’ll hang around here. Team C�””

“Team Sparkle,” Haley interjected loudly.

Jordan rolled his eyes. “Yes, that, will head over to where the media is setting up while Giorgi and I create a diversion. I want you to find a way to destroy all of the cameras without being spotted.”

“Why are they doing that?” Giorgi asked, puzzled.

“Well, first, so that Muggles all over the world don’t see what Apple’s going to do. But also because of Team B,” Jordan replied simply without elaborating on the subject. “Now, Team B, I want you to head over into the London Zoo. It’s here in the park, so that shouldn’t be any trouble. The new wolf exhibit that they’ve built is right by the fence, and it’s directly next to where Apple’s going to be delivering his speech. You know what to do.”

He had debriefed everyone except for Giorgi already as to what duties the individual groups would be performing; naturally, the Muggle girl looked confused and opened her mouth to utter a question.

But before she could, Jordan continued casually, “Oh, that’s right, I didn’t tell you. Well, two of the members of Team B are werewolves, and tonight’s going to be a full moon. It’s all part of the plan.”

Giorgi, who always looked a bit like a cartoon character, reacted in the over-the-top, caricatured manner of an animated figure. Her eyes were the size of pies, and they seemed to bug out of her sockets, and she jumped back from the group “Are you KIDDING ME?!” she exclaimed. “As if I’m not in enough danger as it is being a Muggle who’s trying to stop some evil man from killing other Muggles, now you tell me that you’ve brought in a pair of werewolves and it’s a full moon? Are you trying to kill me or something?”

Ted saw Arden’s face go blank and her shoulders slump. This was her first day of revealing the truth about being a werewolf to people other than Ted, and already, someone was recoiling in fear from her. It was exactly the thing that Ted had promised her would not happen.

“We don’t kill people,” he said softly. “Do you really think I’d do that?”

“Yeah,” Haley chipped in. “You were the one who said Ted was so nice and thoughtful and all that. He’s still Ted when it’s a full moon. It’s like seeing a friend in a bad outfit�”he looks kind of freaky, but he’s still your same friend.”

Giorgi blinked. “Bad outfit, huh?” She looked over at Jordan and raised her eyebrows. “I guess seeing a friend in a bad outfit is definitely something he can relate to,” she said, gesturing to her own wardrobe. She turned toward the two werewolves and stuck out her hand to be shaken. “I’m really sorry,” she told them, “all this stuff is new to me. I really had no idea you were a werewolf. I’ve seen too many Muggle horror movies.”

“No harm done,” Ted assured her. He glanced over at Arden and Ivy. “Come on, Team B! We should get to the zoo before the moon rises.” He started humming (extremely off-key, since Ted couldn’t carry a tune if it was strapped to the back of his broomstick) the chorus to the old song “There’s A Bad Moon On The Rise.”

“We should get going, too,” added Tyrone, nodding toward Team Sparkle.

Emma held up her hands. “Wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “I have to go fix my hair!”

Jordan whacked himself in the forehead. “Emma, I hardly think that fixing your hair is a top priority at the moment,” he told his cousin flatly.

Emma’s eyes sparked menacingly. “You don’t get it. I need to put my hair in pigtails.”

A slow, slightly twisted smile meandered across Jordan’s face. “Take all the time you want,” he said.

The five members of Team Sparkle strode across the dew-moistened grass of Regent’s Park, still not entirely sure what they were doing there. “So, we have to break all of the cameras and stuff without anyone noticing?” Tyrone asked incredulously. “Cool. That sounds kind of… humanly impossible.”

Haley wiggled her eyebrows up and down (seeing as she couldn’t raise just one.) “Says you,” she replied. “Can’t we just use the Reductor charm on the camera lenses? It’ll turn them to dust. Wouldn’t that work?”

The other group members turned to look at her. Haley was not usually one to remember charms, and she was almost never level-headed like this. She was the comic-relief girl who called people things like ‘Tedward’ and ‘Tyroonie,’ the girl who sang loudly in public places and renamed her group ‘Team Sparkle.’ But her suggestion was a good one.

“That’s… a really good idea, Haley,” Marina told her slowly.

Emma grinned. “Haley’s a smart girl. Don’t let her fool you,” she said. Haley didn’t know whether this was a compliment or an insult, so she reacted to both and beamed, then bopped Emma upside the head. “Besides, we’ve been surprised by so many things today, I think we’ve used up our surprise quota for the next week.”

Marina flipped her long, flowing hair. “You have a point,” she said.

Vladislav chuckled quietly to himself. When he saw people looking at him, he explained, “I was just thinking that someone should make a counter for how many times you swirl your hair like that.”

The Beauxbatons champion looked bashful. “Sorry!” she blushed. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it so much. I hate all this long hair�”it’s always getting in the way. I wish I had a cute, short haircut like that Giorgi girl. I’m so jealous of her.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” laughed Haley. “You, of all people, are jealous of Giorgi?”

“Yeah, she’s original. Every time I want to chop off my hair or something like that, I end up chickening out because I know my mum would get annoyed and tell me that I think I’m a boy or something like that.”

Vladislav stared with his dark, piercing eyes, but he didn’t look as serious as usual. His eyebrows were quirked, and the corners of his mouth were turned up into a slight smile. “I now have official evidence that girls are insane,” he said. “None of them are ever happy the way they are.”

The group reached a sea of chairs facing a stage. Although the stage was empty, the audience was beginning to arrive, and the media had already set up all of their cameras. The five of them exchanged glances, and Tyrone pulled out his wand. “Reducto!” he whispered, directing his wand at the lens of a nearby camera. There was a soft, tinkling noise, and the lens, reduced to powder, sprinkled gently to the ground. He smiled up at the rest of the group.

“It works!” he informed them needlessly. “Shall we carry on?”

It was quite simple for them to point their wands at the cameras and shatter the lenses without even having to come into public view. So simple, in fact, that Emma began to get a bit suspicious. “Why did Jordan seem to think that we needed five people to do something so easy?” she asked.

Vladislav shrugged. “Perhaps he thought it would be funny,” he said darkly. “Force the Triwizard champions and their Yule Ball dates into working together, stand back, and watch the chaos unfold.” This was a good point. Emma had to utilize all of her willpower not to look at Tyrone and see how he reacted to this statement.

“You’re missing the point, guys!” Haley exclaimed rather loudly, standing on her toes so that the rest of the group would see her more easily. “Look, I know better than anyone that my brother’s a loony, but he’s a loony who knows what he’s doing. Jordan’s got a plan, and if he thinks it’ll work, then it probably will. I think there’s going to be more to this than just breaking camera lenses, and he’ll tell us more when it’s time.”

She drew herself up straight as she continued. “There’s a reason why the five of us are in a group, and it’s ‘cos we’re the bravest! All three Triwizard champions, plus Tyrone, who’s awesomely brave�”he lost his mum last year, and he’s not afraid to show how he feels about it, which takes a real man, and he came to help us even though he’s mad at Emma. And, yeah, there’s me, too. That’s why we’re Team Sparkle!” It was evident that she really meant what she said�”her hair bounced up and down against her shoulders as she gestured animatedly, and her eyes were dancing. Haley’s infectious enthusiasm managed to suck everyone else in.

“You should be the official team cheerleader,” Vladislav told her with a half-smile. “I feel like the inspirational score and the slow-motion action sequence will begin any minute.”

Marina squinted at the Durmstrang champion. “Before today, I never heard you say a single word,” she told him.

Vladislav sat down on a rock. “It really is amazing how much you can learn if you listen instead of talking,” he replied. “And it’s incredible how many of the things you hear are completely ridiculous. Especially with politics�”I can’t help being cynical, and the truth is, I write down everything I see and hear.”

“Er… everything?” Emma moaned. “Including, just for example, me?”

Vladislav’s eyebrows arched, giving him a rather evil expression. “I do not particularly want to be hexed, so I won’t answer that. But my dream is to be a writer. I want people to be able to laugh at the absurdity of the world and actually understand things like politics, especially teenagers. All anyone knows about politics right now is that Tancred Apple has nice hair.”

As far as Haley was concerned, it was as if Vladislav had just announced that the sun was purple and hamsters were his favourite snack food. “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “You want to be a writer, of all things? But you’re so smart! You make potions… you do that chess thing… you speak all of those languages… you… you could do anything in the world!”

“I think you might be exaggerating… and what good is potential if you aren’t doing what you love? Besides, it’s not as if I’m not using my brain when I write. Far from it,” chuckled Vladislav. “Do you think that I learned all of those languages just to talk to myself? I want to translate everything I write myself so no one warps my words. Believe me, when you’re writing about politics, it’s a fine line.”

Tyrone gave a low whistle under his breath. “It’s funny, I’ve never been on a mission to save the wizarding world before or anything, but I always imagined that there would be a lot more action and a lot less talking about dreams and secrets and stuff. Is this what it’s always like?”

“Not always,” said Haley, thinking of the difficult battle to stop Malfoy the previous year. “Jordan will have something for us to do soon,” she told him confidently. “For now, let’s just wait.”

And with that, Team Sparkle sat down and continued their discussion while the camera crews went about their business, blissfully unaware that their equipment was completely useless.

* * * * * *

“It’s getting darker,” noted Ted, glancing up at the blue velvet sky. “We should probably get to the exhibit. If we don’t, we’ll transform right here, and we don’t want the zookeepers to think we’re escapees.”

Team B had entered the zoo easily, and were exploring the exhibits as they waited for the moon to rise. Although Ivy had fun watching the animals, it was even more entertaining to watch Ted. He really loved animals, no matter what kind (to him, a hedgehog was just as exciting as a hippopotamus), and he was like a little child in his enthusiasm, zipping back and forth between exhibits, pointing out animals, and shouting, ‘look!’ She made a mental note to bring him back the zoo someday under circumstances that were less grim.

Arden eyed the darkening sky, her expression troubled. “Marina was right earlier,” she whispered. “There are so many things that could go wrong.”

Ted smiled. “But there are so many things that could go right! Come on, cheer up! Have some fun, enjoy the… ECHIDNAS! COOL!” And he raced across the path to goggle at the echidnas, whatever those were.

Ivy chortled at the sight of the overly-enthusiastic boy. “Should we find a zookeeper and borrow a tranquilizer gun for him?” she asked Arden in one of her occasional bursts of light-heartedness.

Arden didn’t smile. “My father tried to use one on me,” replied softly. “During my transformations. It never worked.”

“I-I’m sorry,” said Ivy, blinking stupidly. “I had no idea.”

“I do not mind,” Arden told her. “I know what you meant.” A trace of a smile crawled across her face. “Your friend Theo is very…special,” she said.

“I know,” Ivy replied, glancing over at Ted, who was now observing some tree kangaroos. “He loves animals. I think he actually really likes being a werewolf, he adores wolves so much.”

“We are lucky to know someone who looks at things the way he does,” Arden observed. “I certainly do not see things like Theo does.”

“Scratch a pessimist and you’ll sniff an optimist underneath,” Ted observed, tearing himself away from the tree kangaroos and joining the girls. He grinned crookedly. “You girls weren’t bad-mouthing me behind my back, were you?”

“No,” said Ivy, taking his warm hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.

Ted returned the gesture, then, as an afterthought, took Arden’s free one. And Ivy understood completely. She knew that there were times when people needed their hands held, and nobody deserved a warm, comforting hand more than Arden DuBois.

The three of them reached the wolf exhibit and stopped dead in their tracks. The exhibit was surrounded by a concrete wall with the animals far below. They’d been expecting a fenced-in pen, and the plan had been for Ivy to Alohomora the door open and slip inside (while the other two, in their wolf forms, would follow), but that wouldn’t work now. There was a back keeper entrance from inside the animals’ night barns, but from the looks of things, most of the wolves were asleep inside. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to try to tiptoe past sleeping wolves. The only other way down was a small metal emergency ladder on the side of the exhibit, used for the keepers. They looked at one another.

“Wolves aren’t very good at climbing ladders,” Ted said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this.”

Arden hunched her shoulders. “I could jump,” she offered.

“No!” the other two exclaimed in perfect unison.

“You’ll definitely hurt yourself if you try. It’s a long way down,” Ivy told her.

“Then there is only one thing to do,” Arden said gravely. “I will climb down the ladder and enter before the moon rises.”

“There’s no way you can do that!” Ivy breathed. “I mean, even if the zoo guards don’t spot you, the wolves will tear you to pieces.”

Arden stared at her steadily, her expression eerily calm. “You are, I think, forgetting that I am also a wolf,” she said quietly. And before anyone could stop her, she walked deliberately toward the exhibit, swung one leg over the wall in a manner befitting a ballet dancer, and eased her way down the ladder.

Ivy’s fingernails dug into Ted’s palm as they watched the frail-looking girl make her way down. There were three wolves visible in the exhibit, two seemingly asleep and one awake and pacing dangerously close to the ladder.

But incredibly, Arden, who was so shy and uncomfortable around humans, showed no fear whatsoever. After making a light landing, she knelt down on the ground and put out her hand. The wolf sniffed her hand and licked it, and Arden appeared to be speaking softly to it. After a few quiet moments, Arden straightened back up again. “It is safe,” she called up to the other two. “You can come down.”

But they didn’t have a chance. Before Ted could begin to step onto the ladder, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and briefly illuminated his face before said face began to change.

It was the first transformation of Ted’s that Ivy witnessed since the beginning of the school year, and she’d forgotten just how grotesque they were. But she held steadily onto Ted’s hand, even as it morphed into a paw, trying to focus on the light blue eyes that never changed, although the rest of his body was unrecognizable. Soon, he was nearly indistinguishable from the wolves in the exhibit, but Ivy knew that he was really just as human as she was, no matter how he looked.

“Next transformation,” she said to the wolf that was Ted, “We’ll be in the shack, and I can change with you then.” She glanced at the ladder. “You’re not going to be able to climb down in your present state,” she noted. She rested her chin on her hand to think�”there had to be a way for Ted to get into the exhibit, even if he was unable to climb down the ladder. Suddenly, it all became clear to her. “Ted,” she said, “do you think it would work if I carried you down into the exhibit?”

The wolf at her side nodded and wagged his tail emphatically and rather adorably.

Ivy smiled and squatted down next to him. She gripped the wolf around the middle and slowly stood up. “Phew! You’re heavy!” she gasped. “What did you eat for dinner, bricks?” Ted was about the size of a large dog in his wolf form, and although he was scrawny, he was big and Ivy was not exactly athletic. Clutching Ted to her chest, she staggered down the ladder at a painstakingly slow rate. Ted helped her progress along by wrapping his front legs around her neck and his hind legs around her waist so that she had a free hand to grip the ladder, but it was slow going. When they were about three-quarters of the way down, Ted pawed at Ivy’s shoulder.

Somehow, she understood what he meant by this and loosened her grip. The wolf sprang nimbly to the ground, joining the smaller, darker wolf that was Arden below.

After Ted, Ivy dismounted from the ladder. She was a girl when her feet left the rung on which she had been standing, but when she hit the ground, she was an arctic fox.

“Impressive,” she heard a voice say. She turned her fox’s head every which way, but she saw no one around. The voice sounded familiar, and yet unfamiliar. “Ivy, c’mon, it’s me!”

She suddenly realized where the voice was coming from. It was Ted. Although he was communicating in barks and howls, she could somehow understand what he was saying, and it was his voice that echoed inside her head. But his voice was distorted, as though he was speaking with a thick accent. It’s because I’m a fox and he’s a wolf, she realized. There’s got to be some sort of communication barrier between species.

Then, there was another voice, this one harsh and completely unfamiliar. “New smell. Not wolf. Enemy.” The male alpha wolf of the exhibit, yellow-eyed and menacing, was walking in a slow circle around Ivy, effectively intimidating her. Then, without warning, he lunged.

“No! Dhrrrggh, no!” screamed Arden, bounding up behind the alpha male and seizing his tail with her mouth, trying to halt him. “That’s Ivy! She’s a friend!”

Dhrrrggh, the alpha male, reluctantly turned away. Arden walked up beside him and growled softly into his ear, whispering something that Ivy couldn’t make out. But whatever it was, Dhrrrggh abated and his tense muscles relaxed.

Ivy lifted her head. “Thank you,” she said gratefully, her heart beating as fast as a tap dancer’s feet. The sight of Dhrrrggh lunging toward her was truly terrifying, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was how Ted had felt the previous year when the werewolf had attacked on Christmas Eve.

“Don’t mention it,” replied Arden. Ivy noticed that she didn’t have a French accent when she was in her wolf form, and her words flowed much more smoothly�”it was because she wasn’t speaking English anymore. She was speaking a language that came much more naturally.

Ted used his teeth to extricate something from a pouch that he wore around his neck.

“What’s that?” asked Ivy.

“It’s Giorgi’s tape recorder,” he replied, dropping the recorder to the ground. “I mean, if the other groups succeed, no one else but us and Apple will know about his plan. So Jordan thought it might be good if we collected some evidence. And we can always create a diversion by escaping and running wild through the park.”

Ivy had to stifle a giggle. It wasn’t like Ted to say things like ‘if the groups suceed’ or ‘collect some evidence’ or ‘create a diversion,’ and she knew that he must be repeating Jordan’s words verbatim.

Dhrrrggh’s ears perked up. “Escape?” he barked.

Ooh. It was one thing to have two human-minded werewolves and one Animagus running around loose, but a fully-grown and not-at-all cuddly wolf? That was dangerous. “Ummm… Dhrrrggh, you should probably stay here,” Ted managed.

Dhrrrggh, who was apparently a very high-strung wolf, bared his teeth and growled at Ted. Ivy was pleased to see that the latter did not flinch at all, and she couldn’t help but notice that he was actually considerably bigger than the alpha wolf despite his gawkiness. She could tell that Dhrrrggh was intimidated by her gentle and easygoing friend.

“You’re the alpha male. You should stay behind and protect the rest of the pack,” Arden said quickly, and Dhrrrggh relaxed in assent. It was amazing how confident Arden could be�”it was a pity that she wasn’t that sure of herself around people.

Once Dhrrrggh had settled down, Ivy asked Arden, “What was it that you said that got him to, you know, not attack me?”

Arden would have blushed had her face not been covered in fur. “I told him that you were, er, Theo’s mate.”

Ivy and Ted couldn’t quite seem to meet one another’s eyes.

They sat in the wolf exhibit, conversing without incident for several minutes. When guards or zookeepers walked by, Ivy would conceal herself behind Ted, as anyone who worked at the zoo would immediately spot the arctic fox in with the wolves. After quite some time of this, however, Ivy’s newly acute canine hearing picked up a lilting Irish voice saying, “Good evening, ladies and gents!”

“It’s Apple!” she exclaimed. “Get the tape recorder ready!”

Ted fumbled clumsily with the Muggle tape recorder with his nose and paws before managing to hit the ‘record’ button.

“I’m afraid I shall be slightly delayed in delivering tonight’s speech, but you need not worry. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. In the mean time, there’s a lovely selection of tasty complimentary pastries, and feel free to help yourselves. Thank you very much.”

Ivy was disappointed�”they’d gotten that on tape for no good reason. It was a complete waste, like bringing mountaineering equipment to scale an anthill. But before Ted could switch off the tape recorder, an extremely familiar voice, low and somewhat flat and inevitably enhanced by the Sonorous charm, caught his ears. “Team B! Team C… er, Sparkle! Meet me immediately�”plans have changed!” the voice called, enunciating as clearly as possible to make sure the message got across.

The three members of Team B looked at one another.

“I suppose I’m carrying you both,” sighed Ivy, switching back to human form.

* * * * * *

While Team B had been busy trying to sedate Ted as he raced around the zoo, Team A was putting their part of the plan into operation�”they were to create a distraction.

“Right-o,” Giorgi said brightly, pulling a football out of a bag that she carried with her. “So, basically, we act like stupid kids who don’t know that Apple’s giving a speech?”

“Yeah,” said Jordan, taking out an orange wig and fake orange stick-on eyebrows from a disguise kit that he’d gotten for his tenth birthday but never used.

“Unlike me, you look worse with orange hair,” commented Giorgi.

“It’s a disguise,” Jordan told her with as much dignity as it’s possible to possess when you’re wearing a fright wig and bushy stick-on eyebrows. “Without the wig, Apple would recognize me. He knows my dad, and he sent me a birthday card�”and the black hair, green eyes, and shrimpiness practically scream ‘Potter.’”

Giorgi laughed. “You’re not shrimpy, though,” she said.

“Yes, I am,” replied Jordan. “You just can’t tell, because from your height, everyone looks comparatively small.” He attached the rest of the remaining orange eyebrow. “So! Let’s play football!”

“I’ll go easy on you,” grinned Giorgi, running backward with the ball. “Now that I know you’re a Quidditch player and not a footballer.”

Jordan smirked to himself. For once in his life, he enjoyed being underestimated�”he was actually quite talented at football, and had practiced extensively with his Quidditch team as a training drill for their reflexes. But it would be fun to convince Giorgi that he was a total novice and then blast her away.

She kicked the ball, hard, but Jordan blocked it. He dribbled it past the slack-jawed Giorgi and kicked it into the clump of shrubs that served as the goal.

“Whaaa?!” exclaimed Giorgi. “I’m the best starter on my team! How did you get a goal past me in the first ten seconds of the game?”

“What can I say?” smirked Jordan. “I guess I’m a natural.”

“You’re unnatural,” muttered Giorgi. “You’re good at everything. I think you’re a mutant.”

“Technically, I am,” Jordan said calmly, stealing the ball. “Magical tendencies are caused by a genetic mutation. And as if that wasn’t enough, scientifically speaking, all males are mutants, because the ‘y’ chromosome is a mutation of the ‘x’ chromosome.”

Giorgi snorted. “Ha!” she exclaimed, snatching the ball with her foot and flipping it into the air. She headed it into the other goal. “That’s feminism for you. And I just scored past you!”

“Your feet are bigger,” mumbled Jordan. He was about the throw the ball back in when he was stopped by a harsh voice.

“Stop horsing around. There’s a political rally today here, and this isn’t a playground,” barked the voice. It belonged to a heavyset security guard wearing opaque sunglasses.

“But it is a public park,” replied a softer voice, and Tancred Apple appeared. “Don’t be intimidated by Albrecht�”he’s just trying to do his job,” he said, gesturing toward the security guard. “You probably shouldn’t be playing football in this part of the park, though, because I’m going to be giving a speech here quite soon. You can come to the speech if you don’t think you’ll be too bored. It’s free and open to the general public.”

Jordan squinted up at him. “Wait a minute… why are you giving a speech?”

Apple smiled his toothpaste-commercial smile. “Oh, you probably haven’t watched the news lately. It’s okay. I’m the new Prime Minister.”

Jordan tried to think of what a less intelligent teenager would say had he not known who Apple was. He was not experienced at behaving unintelligently. “Oh… cool… I, like, never watch the news. I just think that stuff is boring, you know?” he managed to say, hating himself and hoping no one he knew overheard him.

Apple nodded sympathetically. “Politics can be a bit dull sometimes,” he said. “But I’m trying to bring a little excitement to the field.”

Sicko, thought Jordan. Torturing Muggles is not my idea of ‘excitement.’

Speaking of ‘excitement,’ Giorgi suddenly gasped. “That’s it! I remember!” she squealed in a very Haley-ish voice. “You’re Tancred Apple! Will you sign my football?” She held the football out before her with a simpering expression.

Obliging smile still intact, Tancred Apple autographed the football with a ballpoint pen that he carried in his suit jacket pocket and handed it back. After letting out a loud sigh, Giorgi’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.

Jordan mentally applauded her acting skills. She was a very convincing airhead when she wanted to be, which he wasn’t quite sure was a compliment he himself would want to receive.

Apple bent over Giorgi’s motionless form, wearing a look of concern. “Does your girlfriend often faint like this?” he asked. Giorgi’s eyelids almost fluttered open at the dreaded ‘G’ word, but the politician didn’t notice.

“My sister faints all the time,” replied Jordan, emphasizing the word ‘sister.’ “Don’t worry about it.”

As Apple busied himself with trying to rouse Giorgi, Jordan stared into the Minister’s eyes, hoping his Legilimency would be a success. Jordan’s gaze was fierce and hard, and extremely frightening to behold. His eyes were cold and blank, and as intense and piercing as laser beams. They sliced into Apple’s thoughts and rummaged through his defenseless brain, until they at last dredged up a thought that chilled the boy to the bone.

While still reeling in confusion from what he’d seen inside his mind, Jordan saw Apple pull out a wand, point it at Giorgi, and mutter, “Rennervate.” Giorgi’s eyes opened wide.

Jordan gasped. “Wha… what was that?” he asked, his voice slightly higher in pitch than usual.

“Magic,” replied Apple with a wink, stashing his wand back inside his jacket and strolling away.

Jordan helped Giorgi up off the ground, and she brushed the dirt off of her brightly coloured outfit. “That was weird,” she said. “I can’t believe he was thick enough to do magic on a Muggle, in clear view of someone who he thought was a Muggle as well.”

“I can,” Jordan said hollowly.

Giorgi looked at her friend strangely. “Why do you look like that?” she asked. “And I don’t just mean the ugly.”

“My plan is completely wrong,” replied Jordan. “We need to get the other groups. Apple isn’t planning on torturing the Muggles�”he wants to tell the whole Muggle world about magic!”