A wind that was more wet and blustery than truly cold swirled Audrey’s cloak around her as she climbed the rather mossy stone steps to her mother’s house. She scowled, plucking a damp brown leaf, left over from fall, out her auburn hair. She was fully aware that it was the task at hand that was putting her in a foul mood, but she could not help cursing the month of April. Why couldn’t it act like spring, for Merlin’s sake?

She drew her cloak more tightly round herself, her trepidation growing as she neared her mother’s door. Audrey had, after all, grown up in this house, but it had been almost ten years since her last visit. She took a deep, steadying breath and knocked on the rose-colored door.

Audrey heard a bell chime somewhere inside the house, and there was a flurry of movement in the window. A moment later, her mother had appeared at the door, looking flustered, shocked, and extremely pleased. Not for long, Audrey thought darkly. “Hello, Mother,� she said calmly.

“Audrey, sweetheart, what are you doing here? Come in; come in, out of the cold. It’s an awfully blustery day out there.� Her mother pulled her into the house and embraced her, then stepped back, beaming. Sophia Anderson had once been beautiful, though she had grown rather plump and wrinkled in recent years. Her graying hair, originally the same shade as Audrey’s, was pulled back in a wispy bun and she wore a pink blouse and slacks.

“Come into the parlor, dear, I’ll make some tea. And do take that silly coat off.�

Audrey suppressed a sigh as she removed the cloak, revealing a neat black sweater and jeans underneath. Her mother nodded approvingly and gave her arm another pat, then hurried into the kitchen, still beaming. Audrey hung the cloak on a hat stand near the door and went to perch on a sofa in the parlor, reflecting that it was probably a good thing she hadn’t caved to temptation and come in robes. She looked around the room, at the familiar floral furniture, the television, phone, and cord lamps. It had really been quite a long time since she had been here (when they did see one another, Audrey usually saw her mother at a restaurant or a concert, where they met) and not much had changed in the house since she was eleven. Some symphony music was issuing from the radio—her mother had always liked symphony music. It was one of the few things they had in common.

Sophia bustled back into the room, carrying a tea tray, and placed it on the coffee table. “So, dear, how are you? I’m delighted to see you of course—but what do I owe the pleasure?� She poured Audrey a cup of tea and added cream fondly.

“I’m doing great,� Audrey said, cagily avoiding her mother’s second question. She didn’t really feel like opening hostilities yet. “Work’s been really busy lately… the head of the department is retiring and it has been mad trying to tie up all the loose ends before he leaves next month.� She took a sip of tea. “What about you? How’s Eddie?� Eddie was her mother’s old cat.

“Oh, same, same as usual. Anne Wiley next door gave me her old computer, and her son Jordan has been trying to teach me how to use it… they’re quite baffling, those things.�

Audrey, who only had a vague idea of what a computer was, merely nodded.

“But dear, enough about me, really. Do you want some more tea? Tell me, really, how have you been since December? Did you have a good New Years?� Sophia settled back on the couch cushions, smiling.

Audrey decided that stalling time was over. “Yes, it was wonderful. I spent it with Percy, do you remember, I told you about him--?�

“The tall, red-headed boy?� her mother asked, pursing her lips slightly.

“Yes,� Audrey answered, deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble to point out that Percy Weasley was hardly a boy—he was twenty-five. “Well, his brother George runs a magical joke shop, and he puts on the most magnificent fireworks display in Diagon Alley every year. Percy and I had a lovely dinner and then we went to see it.� She paused. Her mother was nodding, the smile still on her face, though her mouth was a bit thin. Just do it, Audrey thought, steeling herself.

“Mum, I actually came here to tell you something. Percy and I—we’ve decided to get married. He asked me at New Years, actually. They wedding is set for this coming July.�

There was a long, nasty silence as Audrey did her best to keep her expression cheerful while the smile vanished instantly off Sophia’s face. “Don’t you think you should have warned me—or consulted me about this first?� Sophia demanded at last.

“No, I don’t,� Audrey retorted. “I think I should be able to marry whomever I please, Mother. I am twenty-six years old, and to be quite honest I think you’d like Percy, if you gave him a chance. He’s quite proper, and very polite. He was Head Boy at Hogwarts.�

Her mother sighed. “Audrey, I just hoped for your sake that you would choose to marry someone ordinary and settle down in a normal life.�

Audrey took another deep breath to keep herself from shouting, and curled her hands into fists in her lap. “A normal life, Mother? You mean as a Muggle? Denounce magic altogether?�

“No dear, not altogether, just—“

“There is no just, Mother. I’m a witch, and its part of who I am—“

“This life is part of you too. “

“Yes,� Audrey agreed furiously, “but magic is a part of my life like—like a hand, or an arm. It will always be with me. I belong in the Wizarding World, and I belong with Percy. I don’t understand why that is so difficult for you to understand. Wizards aren’t all bad, you know—we’re just like Muggles in that way. Not all of us are family-disowning idiots or evil sorcerers. You should know that, you married a Wizard, you’ve lots of us—“

“Yes,� Sophia said, in a tone of cold fury that she always adapted when Audrey spoke of her father. “Yes, I did, and look where that got me.�

Audrey winced. There was a bit of truth in this statement: her father, Robert Leventhall, had left her mother when Audrey was only nine to marry again, this time to a young blonde witch named Isabella Wilkes. The two of them had a son called Roy, but Audrey had never met him—she avoided her father even more avidly than she avoided her mother. Neither of her parents had ever bothered trying to understand her, and it was this above all other things that, during the war, had drawn her to Percy, who did.

The two women were still staring at one another, each refusing to speak. At last, Audrey stood up. “Well, I’ll be going now Mother,� she said crisply. “I have a meeting at three with some other members of Magical Law Enforcement, and then Percy and I are going out to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron with some Hogwarts friends.� She said this purely to annoy her mother, emphasizing the words “magical�, “Hogwarts� and “Percy.�

Angrily, Audrey drew on her cloak from the hat stand. She hadn’t come here to antagonize her mother, or fight with her. She didn’t want to fight with Sophia, who Audrey knew missed her terribly, but she didn’t understand how her mother could want to see her so badly and then spurn her away so readily. It wasn’t as if this was the first time they’d had this sort of argument…

“I’ll owl you an invitation to the wedding, if you still want to come,� she snapped at her mother, who had risen off the couch too and joined her by the door. “We’re thinking of having it at Percy’s parents house.�

“Audrey,� Sophia said a little pleadingly, “Perhaps a church—“
“Wizards have their own traditions, Mother. It’s Weasley family custom to have weddings at the Burrow, and its very important to Percy.�

“I think you ought to have a say in it too—“

“I do!� Audrey exclaimed, losing her temper all over again. “Don’t you understand, Mother, I want to do this for Percy! He cut ties from his family for a while during the War, just like me. He wants to let his mother do the wedding, he wants to make amends, and he’s really trying! And so am I! The person who is not trying is you!�

Sophia looked as though her daughter had slapped her. “Audrey, you that’s not true. I’m trying to do what’s best for you, I’m trying to protect you—“

“From what?� Audrey shouted, fastening her cloak with shaking hands. “From magic? I am a witch, Mother. You made sure of that the day you married Robert Leventhall. And I’ll have you know,� she added as her mother’s eyes darkened, “I would never choose and ‘ordinary’ man to spend the rest of my life with. Percy is anything but ordinary. He is handsome, smart, courteous, hardworking, driven, and he LOVES ME!�

With that, she wrenched the door open and twisted on the spot, apparating into nothingness with a faint pop and leaving her mother standing, flabbergasted, on her porch.



Audrey apparated directly into the Ministry and ran for the lift, swiping tears angrily from her green eyes. She hated shouting at her mother and she hated that she was being forced to choose Percy over her Muggle family. Most of all she hated that Sophia was still so haunted by a wizard who had left her seventeen years ago that she had turned her back on everything to do with him, including, inadvertently, her own daughter.

She just had to find Percy, and it would be all right again. He would make her see that it was okay, that Sophia would come around, that she could be happy anyway, as he always did. They did it for each other; they had ever since the war. He knew what it was like, knew the anger and the guilt and the frustration, and he still loved her for it. He loved her more for it. He understood, and that was more than Audrey could ever have dreamed of.

Dominique Weasley pranced down the cobbled street, swinging a small denim bag in her hand as she skipped and dodged the throng of witches and wizards in their tall pointed hats and long robes, who were perusing the street called Diagon Alley today. Dominique was in a tremendously good mood. Not only was it a cloudless summer day, but she was also staying at her cousin Fred’s for a week (which was enough to put anyone with a sense of humor in a good mood). To top it off, she had just managed to sneak away from her eagle-eyed Aunt Angelina (which many deemed impossible) in order to visit Gringotts and change some of her Galleons into Muggle money. This, above all else, was what was prompting her to skip, because tomorrow Aunt Angelina had to work, and Dominique and her cousin Fred planned to sneak into Muggle London and see a film, one of their favorite pastimes.

People looked curiously at Dominique as she passed them. Her golden hair danced around her shoulders as she skipped, shimmering and sparkling curiously in the July sun. Her blue eyes were obscured by a pair of large purple sunglasses, and in lieu of robes, which she found rather hot and stuffy, her slight figure was clothed in a pair of ratty brown shorts that fell to her knees and a white t-shirt bearing the Hogwarts crest. Her dirty brown feet that carried her so deftly through the streets wore only a battered pair of flip-flops that had once been pink.

Dominique eyed Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor wistfully as she passed, ducking under a large cage containing several green chickens that a pair of stout wizards were heaving down the street. However, she reminded herself, she had no time to stop: Aunt Angelina might sort little Roxy’s boils at any moment, and notice her absence. Instead, she darted round a corner and ran up the white marble steps of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

The dark, quiet reception hall was quite a contrast from the hot, bustling street outside, and Dominique quickly removed her sunglasses, put on her real ones, and blinked several times to adjust her eyes. She looked about at the formidable goblins in their maroon suits and suddenly felt rather underdressed. A bit sheepish now, she sought out a familiar goblin in the rows along the wall (Fred and James always asked, jokingly, how she could tell them apart) and spotted her father’s friend Garnuk, to her immense relief.

“Good morning,� she said politely to the goblin. Her parents both worked at the bank, and since she was very small Dominique had been cautioned to be careful around goblins. She’d been especially careful ever since Uncle Harry told her a story two years ago about the time he broke into Gringotts, the with help of a particularly treacherous goblin.

Garnuk eyed her distastefully. “Miss Weasley. What can I do for you today?�

Dominique reached into her denim bag and pulled out a small handful of Galleons Fred had “borrowed� from the cash register in his Dad’s shop. She pooled them on the counter before the goblin. “I’d like to change these for Muggle money, please.�

The goblin raised his eyebrows at her, looking doubtful, but said nothing except “Very well. Sign here, please.� And reached under the counter for a stack of pound notes.



The next morning found Dominique and Fred strolling gleefully down Charing Cross Road in Muggle London. It was another bright sunny day, and Dominique was wearing the same shorts and flip-flops as the day before, though she had done away with the Hogwarts shirt in favor of a plaid one. She had always favored casual Muggle wear over anything else, something her sister Victoire (a prefect and a stuck-up priss as far as Dominique was concerned) called an absolute insult to fashion.

“Its too bad James couldn’t come—oh, Domi, look!� Fred exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a long black limousine gliding down the street past them. He was a short boy, about Dominique’s height, with curly brown hair and large dark eyes. “I’ve heard of those!�

“Shhh!� said Dominique, as several Muggles looked oddly at him. “Watch it. And yeah, they’re called limos.�

“Aw, you’re no fun,� Fred complained, but he was grinning.

“Whose idea was this?� Dominique retorted, poking him.

“Shut up!�

The two children continued down the road towards the cinema, growing increasingly excited. Dominique had seen her first Muggle film when she was eleven. Her Aunt Hermione, a Muggle-born, had brought Dominique, James, Fred, and her husband, Uncle Ron, after the adults got into a bet about whether the kids would like the form of Muggle entertainment or not. (Aunt Hermione had insisted they would, while Uncle Ron maintained that the whole idea was rubbish.) Dominique and her two favorite cousins had offered to come along as guinea pigs, and been instantly entranced by the film, an animated one about talking fish. Uncle Ron, as he grudgingly cooked dinner that night (and every night that week, as per the bet) had been quite cross with them. Ever since, the three cousins had made it their business to see movies as often as possible. Dominique suspected that she liked films the most of the three of them, and that James and Fred’s favorite part of the excursion was the sneaking out. Still, it was great fun for all involved. And the week of the summer that Dominique spent with Fred every year while her parents vacationed in France was always prime time for such outings.

They had arrived at the theatre, and Dominique threw the doors open, breathing in the blast of cold, popcorn-scented air that met their noses. She approached the ticket counter, Fred hovering somewhere around her shoulder.

“How many?� asked the attendant in a super-bored voice.

“Ummm…� Dominique stared up at the mysterious board above the ticket window, which was flashing the names of films and their show times. “Ma’am, which film should my cousin and I see? Do you have any recommendations?�

The attendant stared at her. “You mean you kids don’t know what you want to see?�

“No,� Dominique said stoutly.

The attendant sighed, looking annoyed. “There’s the movie version of that musical, Wicked. Its about witches from the Wizard of Oz,� she added at Dominique and Fred’s uncomprehending looks.

The two cousins exchanged grins. Muggles singing about witches and wizards in a film? This was something they had to see. “Two for the next showing of that, please,� Dominique said, placing a five-pound note on the counter. She ignored Fred, who was now snickering off to the side. The attendant passed the precious tickets across the counter and Dominique clasped them in her hand, swung her bag jauntily over her shoulder, and gave the attendant a cheeky wave.

‘Oz?� Fred muttered, as they proceeded into the dark, mostly empty theater. “What in Merlin’s name is Oz?’

“I haven’t a clue, but I have a feeling James is going to be bloody sorry he missed this one,� Dominique replied, grinning.

They talked and laughed, teasing one another and roundly abusing James, who had had to miss the outing because his father, the famous Harry Potter, was being awarded some prestigious something and James’s mother, Aunt Ginny, made him attend the ceremony. They took no notice of the dirty seats, or the bits of old popcorn on the floor, or the emptiness of the theater. They didn’t care that most wizards would have found the place despicable, or that they were on no conditions allowed to be there. They didn’t particularly care, either, that their parents were famous. All they cared about was their afternoon of fun, and the words appearing on the screen telling them to please, silence their cell phones. (Dominique, who was starting third year in a few months and taking Muggle studies, intended to find out once and for all what a cell phone actually was). And now the movie was starting, and music was playing, and a voice said “Once upon a time, in Oz…�

The cousins exchanged delighted and amused glances, and settled back into their seats. Dominique positively squirmed with excitement, because in her opinion, above all else, this, was magic.

Roxanne ignored the people whispering and muttering around her as she walked onto the Quidditch pitch, her cousin Molly’s broom over one broad shoulder. It was a chilly, breezy Saturday morning in the middle of September, and Roxanne, better known as Roxy to anyone who didn’t want a punch in the stomach, stared resolutely at her toes and pretended not to hear the other Gryffindors around her. The tall, rather muscled girl had been ignoring whispers ever since arriving at Hogwarts a few weeks ago, ever since Professor Jones had called “Weasley, Roxanne!� and she had emerged from the dwindling line of first years and sat upon the stool to have the legendary Sorting Hat placed on her head.

“Another one?�

“Is she Lucy’s sister?�

“Nah, she’s Fred Weasley’s kid sister. Look at the skin.�

“Look at the rest of her!�

“Blimey, she doesn’t really look like a first year, does she?�

“There’s no way she’s two years younger than Fred. She’s practically his size!�

The Sorting Hat, true to form, had placed Roxy in Gryffindor, along with her cousins Dominique, Molly, James, Albus, and Rose, and her brother Fred. Roxy sat down among them, holding her head aloft and refusing to meet the stares of the other first years.

That first night in Gryffindor Tower, as the six new first years unpacked their trunks, a small dark haired girl had come up to Roxy and demanded, point blank, if she was actually eleven.

“Yes, I turned eleven in February,� Roxy had replied, crossly.

“Oh.� her questioner appeared unperturbed. She tried a different question. “What’s it like having Harry Potter for an uncle, Roxanne?�

The rude bluntness of this statement, coupled with the fact that the shorter girl had called her Roxanne, resulted in a shouting match while their other
roommates watched, terrified. Both girls had gotten out their wands (though neither knew how to do more than shoot sparks) when Dominique had stuck her head into the room and demanded to know what was going on.

“What on earth are you firsties shouting—OI! Roxy, lower that wand NOW!’

Roxy had done so, shame bubbling up inside her. Of all people it had to be Dominique, the person she most wanted to be like, most wanted to impress… but her blonde cousin didn’t look particularly angry. On the other hand, she looked like she was going to laugh.

“Cough it up Rox,� she said, folding her arms and pressing her lips together in what looked like and effort not to smile. “What’s going on?�

“She—she asked me about Uncle Harry, and everyone, and she was really rude.�

Dominique raised an eyebrow.

“She asked how old I am!�

Another twitch of the eyebrow. Dominique’s lips were quivering.

‘And she called me Roxanne!� Roxy added, now annoyed with Dominique as well for being so superior.

At this, the older girl really did burst out laughing. “Okay,� she said at last, gaining control of herself but still grinning. “I’m sorry you lot had to learn the hard way, but Roxy hates it when anyone calls her Roxanne. If you’re looking for a good pounding in the gut, then go for it. Otherwise—“ she broke off, shrugging, her blue eyes still dancing with laughter.

“How was I supposed to know that?� demanded the small dark haired girl, who still had her wand out. “The Sorting Hat said—“

“Roxanne,� Dominique finished. “I know. Listen, Shorty—what’s your name?�

“Jemimah Tremayne,� the first year retorted defiantly, sticking out her chin. “What’s yours, Belinda the Bossy Prefect?�

“Funny,� Dominique said, and Roxy know she was amused at the thought of anyone making a troublemaker like her a prefect. “Right, Jemimah. We—Well, you say it, Roxy.�

“But I—“

‘You started it.�

“She started it!� Roxy exclaimed, pointing. Dominique and Jemimah both glared at her. Behind the glare, Roxy thought her cousin looked rather entertained. She was enjoying tormenting Roxy as much as she was helping.

“Fine,� Roxy muttered at last. “Uncle Harry is just a normal person. I don’t care if he’s famous, or if Aunt Ginny is famous, or if any of us is famous! We’re just a regular old family, and we get in fights and have birthday dinners, and Fred is short and I’m tall and happen to have been hitting bludgers since I was five, and it’s really not that interesting! We are all perfectly normal and its really annoying when people like you try and treat us weird or something. And I can’t get you any free Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products or bloody autographs, so don’t ask!� She added the last bit on as a warning, glaring in furious humiliation at her cowed classmates, Jemimah (who still had her wand out) and a grinning Dominique.

“Why not?� asked Jemimah impertinently.

“Because it AKWARD!� shouted Roxy, rounding on her once more. “Have you ever asked your dad for his autograph?�

“Well said,� agreed Dominique, still grinning in a maddening way that was a bit reminiscent of Fred. “So, no more firstie dueling? You lot has better get some sleep before classes start tomorrow; you’re going to need it. I’ll walk you down to breakfast in the morning so you don’t get lost, shall I Roxy?� She gave a last smirk and pranced out of the dormitory. There was a bit of a ringing silence and then Jemimah broke it.

“Is she always like that?�

“Yeah,� Roxy muttered, hating Dominique in that moment. “But wait to till you meet my brother Fred and our cousin James. They’re three times worse.� And she got into bed, closed her hangings, and blew out her candle.


The old saying that you can’t be proper friends without being enemies first held quite true in the case of Roxy and the impertinent, dark haired Jemimah. The two of them had walked down to the Great Hall together the following morning. (Roxy was still a bit humiliated and refused to let Dominique, Fred, and James tow her along in their wake). People were still muttering, and by the time breakfast was over Roxy was feeling almost grateful for Jemimah’s bold, forward, confrontational approach.

“They’ve got no nerve,� the shorter girl had hissed as the Ravenclaws they were taking Transfiguration with turned in their seats to look at Roxy for a moment, then resumed whispering.

“Better to shout it in my face, huh?� Roxy shot back at Jemimah.

Her new friend rolled her eyes. “Duh.�



Now, it was approaching October and Roxy had spent three full weeks at Hogwarts. The mutterers were mostly silent now (according to Molly, it usually happened when a new Weasley came to school, but died down after a month or so). Roxy, standing on the Quidditch pitch now, wondered if she was mad to be doing this, just when the gossip was ending and she had almost proved she was an average Gryffindor first year, despite her older appearance and her surname.

Jemimah, who was standing beside Roxy clutching a school broom, seemed to read some of this on her friend’s face. “They’ll be the ones who look mental once they’ve seen you fly,� she said confidently.

Roxy snorted lightly. Jemimah’s confidence in her abilities was nice to hear, but it didn’t mean much—Jemimah was confident about everything. Nothing seemed to faze her, not even trying out for the Quidditch team with Roxy as ‘moral support’ when she’d flown perhaps four times in her life and didn’t have the faintest idea what she was doing. But that was Jemimah—fearless, confident, pigheaded, and fiercely loyal.

The two of them traded grins as the current members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team emerged from the changing rooms, their red team robes bright in the fall sun: Aaron Vance, Captain and chaser, Tyler Tremayne, beater and Jemimah’s older brother, and James Potter and Fred Weasley, chasers, called up from last year’s reserves. The latter pair was laughing and looking, Roxy thought, extremely pleased with themselves. As usual. She watched them closely. It was James who spotted her first, and he stared for a moment before punching Fred and pointing in her direction. Roxy’s brother’s face split into an evil grin. “Feeling lucky, first years?� he called loudly, and several people laughed. “Going to show us all up on those old logs?� James was howling, presumably, at the look of utter indignation on Jemimah’s face, but Roxy ignored her cousin and her brother. She wasn’t going to let their rudimentary teasing sabotage her tryout. She stood as erectly as possible, very glad she had Jemimah by her side and Molly’s loan of a Nimbus Two Thousand and Ten in her hand.

“All right everyone,� called Vance, over the laughing crowd. “We’re trying out seekers first. All of you get up in the air, and I’m going to release a snitch. Let’s see who can catch it first.�

“Scared, firstie?� chuckled a large fifth year to Jemimah, who was mounting her broom.

“No, not particularly,� Jemimah retorted coolly, and Roxy knew it was true.

Vance blew his whistle and the five hopefuls kicked off. Jemimah was easily the smallest, and she shot off the ground like an explosive, rising twenty feet above everyone else. James and Fred laughed openly. The seeker tryout lasted about ten minutes, but Roxy didn’t pay attention—she was watching Jemimah nervously, as she careened after the pack of seekers, weaving and bobbing unsteadily and going at a breakneck pace. When the whistle sounded again, she went into a vertical dive and cut a deep groove into the pitch as she skidded to a halt, her black hair forming a frizzy halo around her head, her eyes shining.

“That was fun!� She grinned at Roxy, quite oblivious to the entire House laughing at her. “I told you I wouldn’t fall off.�

Roxy laughed too, wishing she could be as carefree and unaffected as her friend. “That was brilliant. The team doesn’t know what hit them. You looked… drunk, or something.�

Jemimah beamed. “I told you I could fly!�

“That is still debatable,� Roxy said, and they laughed again.

“Quiet,� Vance said sharply as Jemimah gave a very unladylike snort. James and Fred waggled their tongues at them, and Roxy glared back. Her tease of a brother and his troublemaking cousins might think she was annoying, but she refused to be called weak or wimpy. Her dad called her his “little firecracker� and Roxy preferred even that pet title to “kid sister� any day.

“Right, now we’re doing beaters. This is Tyler, he’s our current beater. I’m sending the chasers up in the air, and you’ll go up in pairs and aim and them. “Right...� Vance consulted his list. “Alderton, Bode, you go first.�

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the beater candidates all had their time in the air. Roxy know she was being kept till last and resented it—it meant Vance didn’t think she was a contender. At last, he called “Okay, Weasley and Miles, up in the air please.�

Jemimah gave Roxy the thumbs up and she kicked off hard, clutching a beater’s bat. The air felt wonderful, and Molly’s broom was both fast and easy to maneuver. Roxy took a deep breath. She could do this.

“School brooms received an upgrade, have they sis?� shouted Fred, shooting past her.

“I wouldn’t know!� Roxy called back, as she pulled into a dive, looped Fred, and pounded a bludger in the direction of James, who was passing. Then she pulled out of the dive and rose like a cork. James’ “Hey!� was accompanied by a dull thud that meant they ball had it its mark. Grinning, Roxy swerved back and forth, weaving, putting the broom through its paces. She could hear Jemimah whooping from far below. There was another bludger, headed straight for her… she rose above it, pummeled it with all of her strength once more, and went streaking off without looking to see if it had hit Fred, dodging Vance. It was the mark of a good beater who did not hang around waiting to see if their shots made contact.

After a few more minutes, Vance’s whistle blew again and Roxy landed gently on the grass, exhilarated from her flight. “Weasley.� Vance was pointing at her. He looked unnerved. “Is that your broom?�

“It’s a loan,� Roxy said. “But I’ve got a Comet Millennium at home.�

“Right.� Vance ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m just going to have to ask Professor Longbottom if we can bend the rules a bit. I’ve never seen someone so—I mean, you’re—“

“An eleven year old girl,� Roxy supplied, grinning triumphantly.

“Well, yeah,� the Captain admitted, nodding ruefully. “Beaters are usually—but never mind. Welcome to the team, Weasley.�

Roxy let out a whoop just like Jemimah’s. She might be eleven, but she could wield a beater’s bat better than anyone in Gryffindor House. As far as showing Fred, James, and Dominique, this just about topped all. And the best part was, Roxy thought as she headed back up to the castle with Jemimah, flushed with her success, they couldn’t try to sabotage her, because it was their team, too! Goodbye, kid sister, here I come Quidditch star, Roxy thought. She was once again about to be talked about all over the school—but not for her famous relatives sake this time. This time it was she, Roxy Weasley, making headlines. No one else.