LUCY:

Thursday morning dawned spectacularly clear — a perfect day to head up to visit Grawp in his mountain cave. I had overslept a bit, so by the time I got down to breakfast, everyone was already there and the mail had already been delivered.

I glanced at Hermione, who was flipping through the Prophet with a furrowed brow.

"Anyone we know dead?" Ron asked, trying and failing to hide his anxious tone.

"No," she answered, "but there have been more dementor attacks... oh, and an arrest."

Harry nodded approvingly. "Excellent, who?"

"'Stanley Shunpike, conductor on the popular Wizarding conveyance the Knight Bus, has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr. Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on his Clapham home...'"

Harry blinked. "Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater? No way!"

"He might have been put under the Imperius Curse. You never can tell," Ron said with a shrug.

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't look like it. It says here he was arrested after he was overheard talking about the Death Eaters' secret plans in a pub. If he was under the Imperius Curse, he'd hardly stand around gossiping about their plans, would he?"

"It sounds like he was trying to make out he knew more than he did. Isn't he the one who claimed he was going to become Minister of Magic when he was trying to chat up those veela?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, that's him." Harry sighed. "I dunno what they're playing at, taking Stan seriously."

"They probably want to look as though they're doing something. People are terrified — you know the Patil twins' parents want them to go home? And Eloise Midgen has already been withdrawn. Her mother picked her up last night." Hermione flipped to another page of the paper, and her face went white. "Oh. That would explain it."

"What happened?" I asked, feeling faint all of a sudden.

"Her father was killed."

I bit down very hard on my lower lip to stop myself from reacting out loud. Nobody, not even Harry, knew that I had known him, in a way. He was the only reason I knew about my family. He was the one who had given me all of the tools to build a bridge to home, and just like that, he was gone. I'd never even gotten a chance to properly meet him, let alone thank him. He was just gone, just like that.

"I'm going to head down to Herbology early," I said, voice trembling violently. "I — I'm sure Hannah and Susan will be upset. I should try to help, if I can."

"Are you alright, Lu?" Harry asked.

I nodded as I started walking away, but my nod wasn't convincing, because Harry appeared at my side as soon as we left the Great Hall.

"What's the matter, Lu?" he whispered.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak, and started walking faster.

Harry matched my pace easily, since his legs were much longer. "Lucy, it's alright, everyone we know and love is safe as far as we know, and — "

"As far as we know," I choked out, bitter and angry and hating the war and hating the world and just wanting to go home. Wherever home was. Whoever home was.

As soon as the chill morning air hit my face, I couldn't stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I tugged Harry off to the side, out of sight of any prying eyes, and began to cry quietly.

His arms automatically went around me and pulled me tight, and he stroked my hair as he whispered "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay" over and over. I didn't cry for long, and I didn't cry that hard, because there was simply too much emptiness to fuel my tears. Too much left unsaid. Too much left unknown.

Paul Midgen had given me my family back. Paul Midgen was dead.

I whispered an explanation to Harry as best I could once my tears had dried. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to say anything. There was nothing to say.

Paul Midgen had given me my family back. Paul Midgen was dead.

Life went on. I dried my face and made my way down to Herbology with Harry, and I talked to Hannah and Susan, and I did the best I could to bring just a little bit of hope into the hopeless situation.

I cried for a second time that day as soon as I saw Grawp. It was great to see him, of course it was great to see him. But he was Hagrid's family, his flesh-and-blood family, and Paul Midgen had given me my flesh-and-blood family back, and Paul Midgen was dead. Hagrid, sweet Hagrid, of course asked what was wrong, and I explained to him as best I could because I knew that he understood family and all of its complexities better than perhaps anyone else, but no amount of tears or explanations could ever bring Paul Midgen back, because Paul Midgen had given me my family back, and Paul Midgen was dead, and I had never gotten the chance to properly express just how much he meant to me.

I was determined not to make that mistake again.

I didn't pay attention in Charms, instead spending the entire period writing letters to everyone I could. Starting with Harry, then Ginny, then Ron, then Hermione. After Charms, I retreated to the dormitory and wrote more, and more, and more, and more, and more. Everyone I knew got their own letter, a roll of parchment expressing just how much they meant to me. One by one, I piled the rolls under my bed, each clearly labeled, each ready to be distributed as soon as possible, either by hand or by owl. I wasn't going to let anyone else die not knowing just how loved they were.

Everyone said something along the lines of "Don't worry, I know how much you love me. I love you too. Everything's going to be okay, Lucy." Everyone said something unique, too, even if just in their tone. Percy, for instance, was surprised by my letter, and he made it very clear that he wanted nothing but the best for me and that he had always wanted nothing but the best for me. Alastor was concerned that it was a ransom note or something sinister like that, but he was touched when he realized I had sent it of my own free will. Tonks promised she'd pass my letter along to Remus when she could, and she was glad that I thought her pink hair was cool. Jessica and Brandon both said that if I ever fled to America, I would have a place to stay with their family. Professor McGonagall was worried that something was wrong, but once I properly explained myself, she just hugged me for a very long time. Ron wrote me a letter of his own. Ginny cried as she held onto me like her life depended on it.

And Harry, well — he just held me as I cried, for a very long time.

My letters to Claire and Danny and Abby remained under my bed. Sealed with magic that only I could unseal. Sealed with magic that only my death could unseal, if it came to that. I spent a great deal of time by myself in the Room of Requirement the next day, revisiting memory after memory and dreaming of the day that I would be able to create new memories. With Abby. With Danny. With Claire. As a family, whole, once again.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

Life went on. Saturday night arrived, which meant the start of private lessons, whatever those were.

I realized why Dumbledore had invited me to private lessons too as soon as he reached for his Pensieve. He saw my moment of realization and smiled.

"I understand that you have more experience with this particular type of magic than your peers, Lucy," he said. "It could very well be true that you have more experience with this type of magic than most adult wizards as well."

I shrugged. "Not by choice, but I understand your point, sir."

"Where are we going, sir?" Harry asked.

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," Dumbledore answered as he plucked a vial from his pocket. "He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties."

"What exactly are we looking for?"

Dumbledore was too busy struggling with the stopper on the vial to answer my question, so Harry stepped forward. "I can open it for you — "

"No matter, Harry," Dumbledore replied, drawing his wand to pull the stopper out of the vial.

"Sir, how did you injure your hand?" From the tone of Harry's voice, I knew it wasn't the first time he'd asked.

"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."

With that, Dumbledore dumped the contents of the vial into the Pensieve, and he gestured for me to step forward.

"Ladies first," Harry joked.

"After you, then," I retorted, though I did obediently dip my head into the Pensieve. I was joined in the memory shortly by Harry, then by Dumbledore. Together, the three of us followed Bob Ogden through his memory, a visit to a ramshackle house all but hidden by overgrown shrubbery and nettles in Little Hangleton apparently belonging to the Gaunt family.

The Gaunt family was of the purest of blood and quite proud of it, according to the father. He wore a Peverell family ring on his finger and his daughter had a locket belonging to Salazar Slytherin around her neck. The father and the son both spoke Parseltongue — Harry, bless him, didn't even realize at first that they were doing so — and were proud of their magical prowess, but the daughter, Merope, appeared to struggle with magic. Ogden was visiting the Gaunt house in the first place because the son, Morfin, had attacked a Muggle. As it turned out, Merope fancied that Muggle boy, and when her father found out, he attacked her viciously. Ogden tried to protect her, but he ultimately fled the scene, and we exited the memory.

Harry and I asked what had happened to Merope as soon as we were back in Dumbledore's office, and we were reassured that she survived because Ogden had returned to the Gaunt house with reinforcements. She was in fact not a Squib, as her father Marvolo had said, and her magic flourished once her father and brother went to Azkaban for a time, Morfin for his history of attacking Muggles and Marvolo for attacking Ogden and his reinforcements. Merope Gaunt went on to marry the Muggle boy she fancied — Tom Riddle Sr. It wasn't a typical marriage, though: she ensnared him with a love potion, and when (for whatever reason) Tom Riddle was no longer under the influence of said love potion, he left a pregnant Merope behind, and thus were the circumstances into which Tom Marvolo Riddle, Voldemort, was born.

After explaining all of that, Dumbledore dismissed us, saying that we were allowed to speak to Ron and Hermione about what we had learned but that it would be best if that information remained within our circle of four. We were on our way out of Dumbledore's office when Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

I followed his gaze and understood immediately why he had frozen. The Gaunt ring was right there, among Dumbledore's various magical instruments. (The ones that were left, anyway, after Harry had smashed so many the last time he was in Dumbledore's office.) We turned back to face Dumbledore in sync.

"Sir, that ring — you were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded. "So I was."

"But isn't it... sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"

"The very same."

"But how come — have you always had it?"

"No, I acquired it very recently. A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."

"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry." Dumbledore smiled. I recognized the look at once. He was just begging Harry to ask, but he was certainly not going to answer.

I grabbed Harry's arm, sending a smile Dumbledore's direction. "I don't think we're hearing that story tonight, Harry. We should go."

"Quite correct, Lucy," Dumbledore said as his smile widened. "Good night."

"Good night!" we called back as we left the office.

As soon as we had reached the corridor, I turned to Harry. "Well, Mr. Potter, do you have any other plans for the evening?"

"Well no, Miss Diggory, I do not," he replied, playing along perfectly. "Whatever will we do in order to pass the precious time between now and curfew?"

"I would like to try to forget everything we just saw before we have to face Ron and Hermione and inevitably relive it," I said. "I — actually, that — that gives me an idea."

Harry nodded. "What is it?"

I swallowed hard. "Harry, would you like to see one of my memories?"

"One of your..." His eyes widened. "Oh, one of those. Of your family?"

"Yeah. We don't have to, I just — "

"No, no, I'd like to, if you're sure."

I nodded. "Positive."

"Room of Requirement, then?"

I nodded again, and we set off down the corridor together. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold his hand, but then the portraits would see, and the portraits would gossip, and that gossip might reach the ghosts, who would tell the living, and then all of our secrecy would be for nothing. So, I waited until we were in the Room of Requirement before reaching for Harry's hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckle.

"Hey, it's okay," he said reassuringly, correctly identifying that my hands were sweaty because I was nervous. "We don't have to do this if you changed your mind."

"No, I want to show you," I insisted. "I'm just not sure which... which one should be first."

"Whatever you'd like to show me, love. It's alright. I'm always interested in anything you want to share with me."

I felt myself go a bit pink at his sweet words, and I squeezed his hand one more time before releasing it and drawing my wand, walking toward the Pensieve, thinking hard.

"Do you remember the Mirror of Erised, our first year?" I asked softly.

"Impossible to forget it," Harry replied. "I saw my family, my whole family."

"So did I, only... I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know who Claire was when I was eleven, but she was in the mirror for me anyway. Do you want to... well, meet her isn't entirely accurate, but do you want to see her?"

"Of course, Lu. Whatever you'd like to show me."

I nodded, then lifted my wand to my head and let the memories rise to the surface. Precious memories, hard-fought, so very dear. The memories filled the Pensieve, bright and silvery, and I reached out for Harry's hand as we submerged our heads at the same time.

The little Everlin sisters on a trampoline, lying side by side, arm in arm, looking up at the sky.

"I want to fly," Little Lucy said.

"Mommy says you can't, Lucy," Little Claire replied, sounding sad on my behalf. "She says it's impossible."

I frowned. "I know. But... do you think I can?"

"I think we can do anything. If you want to fly, then fly."

I untwisted my arm from hers and clumsily got to my feet. "I will! Claire, watch!"

I lowered myself into a crouch, then sprang upward with as much force as my little legs could muster. Gravity pulled me back down to the trampoline, but I kept bouncing again and again.

"Look, Claire, look!" I announced, giggling. "I'm flying!"

"Let's fly together!" Claire said, smiling at me as she got to her feet.

I reached for her hand, and she accepted it, and our bounces synced. Claire reached her arms toward the sky, so I did too. We reached, and reached, hand in hand, jumping as one.

The memory began to blur around the edges, but I signaled to Harry that it wasn't quite done yet, keeping my eyes locked on the little girls on the trampoline.

We bounced one last time, and we shot up toward the sky, lingering in the air, suspended by the magic neither of us knew I had.

As we began to fall back down to Earth, Claire turned her freckled face to mine, ocean-blue eyes wide and excited. "That felt like magic!"

The memory blurred to nothingness, and Harry and I found ourselves back in the Room of Requirement.

I stumbled backward, a little unsteady because of the rush of emotions swirling in me, but Harry caught me by the arm.

"You alright?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, yeah, sorry." I straightened myself and smiled shyly. "That's Claire, that's — my sister. And me, when I was little."

Harry's smile was unbelievably tender. "You've always wanted to fly?"

"Apparently," I replied, cheeks burning.

"That was so cute," Harry continued. "Thanks for showing me. You were adorable. You still are." He cradled my very-hot face in his hands and grew serious as he tipped our foreheads together. "You're going to see her again. I promise. You'll show her how you fly, and you'll fly with her, and you'll be back home where you belong. Don't worry."

"'Belong' is a complicated word," I whispered. "I think right now, I belong here with you. We belong together, Harry James. As horrible and complicated as everything about my past is... I'm happy to be here with you, past, present, and future."

Harry wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him in a hug. "You're so sweet. I love you."

"I love you too," I murmured as I returned the hug.

"My past is horrible and complicated too," he said softly, rocking us back and forth, "but it ultimately led me to you. I would do it all over again if it meant ending up here with you."

I squeezed Harry tighter. "'Here' is nice." I sighed and sank deeper into his arms, soothed by the repetitive rocking back and forth, left to right, left to right. "I can't wait for the day that 'here' means you and Claire in the same place, and everyone else too."

Harry hummed his agreement. "Someday, love. Someday."

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

Hermione's birthday presented a unique challenge for me. Over the past three months or so, we had patched our friendship back together one moment at a time. She had stepped closer to me in the Hall of Prophecy to try to protect me. I had tried to warn her about the purple spell mere minutes later. I had reintroduced the mood rings to our friendship the next day, and I had loaned her my brother's jumper while she was still healing. She had returned it on the one-year anniversary of his death, when she came to sit with me at the Quidditch Pitch. We had a couple of moments over summer where we each constructed a bit more of the bridge between us, but Hermione's birthday was the first chance we'd really have to take a look at how much we had rebuilt and figure out how stable it was, how safe it was, how we would proceed.

I was nervous.

I had worked with Ginny and Harry and Ron on it, too scared to do anything for Hermione truly on my own. Thankfully, recreating Harry's birthday gift on a smaller scale was a group project anyway. The three of us huddled together in the common room long after she had gone to bed, putting it all together, memories and objects and enchantments. It would be waiting for her in the morning — I offered to put the box at the foot of her bed when I headed up to the dormitory that night, because it would be less personal than having to give it to her myself, and the others agreed. After that, she could do or not do whatever made her most comfortable.

Hermione's birthday was an olive branch, extended with all of the love and bravery I had within me.

We were always at our best when we were working together, rather than against each other, and it was more important than ever that we were together.

I had reached deep into the past for my memory. I duplicated my Gryffindor scarf and enchanted it with the memory of the first time I had truly felt loved by Hermione, back when we were still eleven, back when Professor Snape being mean in Potions class was our biggest problem. He had been cruel to me, even more cruel than Hermione had realized at the time, so I fled as soon as class was dismissed. Hermione found me, though, and encouraged me. The memory was buried, suppressed, hidden underneath years of other conversations between the two of us, but it was still there, providing a foundation for all that we were, all that we would become.

"You can't just run and expect not to be followed. I care about you." "You know he was wrong, don't you? About belonging in Gryffindor?" "Everyone feels a little frightened sometimes, and Professor Snape is frightening. But today, you took a stand anyway, and that took courage." "I'm glad I have a friend as brave as you."

She hadn't known, then, about the lycanthropy, or how desperately I had wanted to be in Hufflepuff, or how frightened I really was beneath the brave exterior she could somehow see, but I had still been taken aback by how loved I felt by a virtual stranger. Hermione was always good at seeing what she wanted to see and not much else, for better and for worse, but in that moment, she had only seen me as brave, and a friend.

I hadn't explained the memory to anyone else, and I was planning on keeping it a secret that Hermione could share if she wished, but once everyone's objects had been enchanted and placed into a box that we wrapped in parchment that Ginny and I charmed to have sparkly rainbow stripes and we started to head to our separate dormitories, Ron caught my eye.

"Blimey, we forgot a card!" he exclaimed. "I can write it, but I don't know how to charm it to shout 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!' at her. I know you do though, so d'you mind staying up just a bit later, Lucy?"

"Not at all," I replied automatically.

We reconvened around a table, and he made a show of reaching for a piece of parchment and a quill.

I stared at Ron until he finally looked up at me. "So what do you really want to ask me, Ron Weasley?"

"I just wanted to hear about your memory," he admitted. "I thought maybe talking about it would help. I know this must be... odd for you? Difficult? Both?"

"A little bit of both," I confessed. "I don't regret anything, I know this is the right thing to do and I feel good about it, but it's still... an effort. As much as I would like to think that doing the right thing always comes easily and naturally to me, that's not true. It's not always easy, or natural."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Being human means that doing the right thing is hard sometimes, and you're allowed to be human. Er — poor word choice, sorry."

I laughed. "No, it's alright, I appreciate the sentiment. I'm just trying to the right thing right, you know? I don't want to try to do the right thing and muck it up."

"As someone who does that far too often," Ron muttered, "you have absolutely nothing to worry about, Lucy Diggory."

"You don't muck anything up," I argued.

"Yeah, well, I suppose we'll find out at Quidditch tryouts on Saturday." Ron blinked hard, and his stormy gaze cleared as he shook his head. "Anyway, that's not important right now. What memory is attached to the scarf?"

I glanced down at my hands shyly as I explained the whole story beginning to end; talking to Ron was easy. Standing up to Snape in our first Potions class. What Snape had said to me in a voice the whole class could hear, what Snape had said to me in a voice only the two of us could hear. How I had run away, then hidden in our dormitory. How Hermione had looked for me the whole time. Everything she had said to me. How good her words had made me feel — how good her words still made me feel, five years later.

"I just thought it was a good memory because... well, everything was simpler back then, wasn't it? That memory isn't contaminated by the knowledge of me she gained along the way. We will never be able to really go back there again, but I thought — I thought maybe it would be nice for both of us to remember those days where I was just the brave girl who talked back to Snape and she was just the girl who cared enough about me to look for me after I'd run off."

"You're both still those girls," Ron replied. "Everything was simpler back then, I'll give you that, but I don't think learning more about each other and about the world has — what was your word — 'contaminated' anything. You and Harry had detention just last night because you talked back to Snape — which was bloody brilliant, might I add, you've truly refined that skill in the past five years — and Hermione followed you up to your dormitory without hesitation when Harry confirmed her suspicion that you'd been crying. You're still brave, and she still cares about you, and I know that you still care about her too. Maybe it's not as simple now as it used to be, but you're both the same deep down, and you're going to figure everything out again. Everything will be okay, I just know it. Are you feeling better about what happened in your detention, by the way?"

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks. I really shouldn't have let him get under my skin, but being a handed a book called Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live and told I couldn't leave until I'd read it in its entirety was a tad upsetting. I didn't dare let myself cry in front of Snape, but I couldn't help it once Harry and I were walking back."

"Harry damn near started crying too as he was telling me about it," Ron said. "He didn't even really care about the fact that Snape made him manually sand down all of the desks that Sirius had carved his initials into when he was in school because he was so angry about what Snape had made you do."

"Snape is the worst," I spat. "He told us that if we got detention with him again, he'd make Harry find a way to permanently get rid of the initials carved under Slughorn's desk belonging to Sirius and James, and he'd make me write an essay on that book he made me read."

"He is the worst," Ron agreed. "Bloody hell. Wait, under Slughorn's desk? In the Potions master office? Wasn't that Snape's for years? Why didn't he get rid of it himself, if it bothers him so much?"

I chuckled for a moment. "According to Snape, he tried his best, but Sirius and James charmed it specifically so that it would hex anyone who tried to get rid of their initials except for Slughorn, who obviously never had any desire to do so because they were both among his favorite students. Brilliant on their part, really, but..." I stopped chuckling. "He told Harry he would just have to find a way to get rid of it himself, hexes and all."

"I guess you two had better try to stay out of trouble," Ron said with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, I guess so," I agreed with an echoing sigh.

We existed in comfortable silence for a couple of moments, each lost in our own thoughts. Only for a couple of moments, though.

When I looked at Ron again, he was already looking at me with a mischievous gleam in his eyes not unlike the same gleam I'd seen in Fred's eyes, and George's eyes, and Ginny's eyes, right before a brilliant idea.

Ron sighed, reaching for another piece of parchment and sliding it across the table to me. "You know... Professor Snape has had a really rough go of it as a DADA professor. I think maybe he'd appreciate a card too."

"I think you're right," I said, reaching for my own quill. "Maybe I could, er, dazzle him a bit. He really would look lovely covered in rainbow glitter, don't you think?"

"In the same pattern as Hermione's wrapping paper, perhaps?"

"Perhaps, yes. A gift for her from us at the expense of Professor Snape?"

Ron grinned, and I grinned, and we each set to work on our cards. Ten minutes later, Ron was sneaking into his dormitory to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak, and I was sneaking into my dormitory to leave Hermione's gift and card at the foot of her bed. Twenty minutes later, we were in the DADA classroom, leaving the card face-up on Professor Snape's desk so he could clearly read the "FOR OUR FAVORITE DADA PROFESSOR" come morning. Thirty minutes later, we were constantly bumping into and tripping over each other as we tried to navigate the kitchen to make a last-minute birthday cake for Hermione. Forty minutes later, we were slinging batter at each other as we argued over whether or not chocolate chips were allowed to be in a cake or if they were strictly reserved for cookies. Fifty minutes later, I was sliding chocolate-chip-less cake batter into the hearth oven while Ron started mixing chocolate chips into the orange frosting.

By the time I finally crawled into bed two hours later, smelling strongly of cake batter and frosting even though I had taken a nice long shower, I was too excited and exhausted to even be worried about Hermione's birthday.

My worries would have been unfounded anyway. I woke up to Hermione squeezing me to death in a hug at sunrise. And when Snape stalked into the Great Hall for breakfast, covered head to toe in the same pattern of sparkly rainbow stripes that had been on the parchment wrapping Hermione's gift, I heard her laughter even over the laughter of everyone else in the Great Hall.

At that moment, I reached under the table and tossed a small ball of parchment onto Hermione's lap. She blinked, startled for a second, but still laughing as she opened it and read it.

Happy birthday, Hermione. Love you.

She smiled at me, and a quick glance at her ring glowing yellow confirmed that she really meant it.

Five small words. They said enough.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

The day of Quidditch tryouts dawned cold and rainy. In other words, it was perfect. I shot out of bed and hurried through my morning routine, stopping by Ginny's dormitory on the way down so we could braid each other's hair. Everyone had to try out again, even if they were already on the team, but I knew — obviously — that Ginevra Molly Weasley would be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She was trying out as a Beater, but we had both agreed that if Katie needed the help, the three of us would play Chaser together, because Katie was obviously going to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team too.

I beamed at Harry when he and Ron arrived for breakfast.

"Good morning! Perfect day for tryouts, don't you think?"

He wrinkled his nose. "You think so?"

I nodded. "Playing in these conditions today will help us see who will be able to play in less-than-ideal conditions if a match takes place, say, during a lightning storm."

"You're right," Harry agreed. "We can see who's able to stay on their brooms that way. Anyone who was around in our third year might even kick us off the team."

The two of us laughed as Ron and Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes.

While Harry set about his daily routine of making me a cup of coffee I was inevitably going to despise yet drink anyway, he sighed. "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."

"Oh, come on, Harry. It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! And Lucy, to an extent, but mainly you," Hermione said. "You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."

Ron and I choked on our food at the same time, causing Ginny to laugh as she slammed her hand against my back.

Harry glanced at me for a brief moment before turning to Hermione. "What?"

"Well, everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One' — well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you? And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway — "

"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look," Ron piped up, pulling back his sleeves to reveal his scars.

Hermione ignored him as she finished her sentence. " — and it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either."

Ron frowned. "I'm tall."

"Harry's still much more fanciable," Ginny said. "Wouldn't you agree, Lucy?"

I pretended to choke on my food all over again just to avoid answering. I stopped pretending once the post arrived, because that provided an ample distraction. To my delight, an envelope was dropped in front of me, so I ripped it open and began to read the first of two letters enclosed.

Dearest Cub,
   I'M SO PROUD OF YOU. But Merlin, did it really take you two whole weeks to finally prank Snape? You better not be too busy studying to make time for the important things in life like fun, the people you love, and fun at the expense of the people you don't.
   All's well here, aside from how much we miss you. Other than that, it's been business as usual, for the most part. Wake up, wreak havoc, sleep, repeat. Pygmy puffs aren't selling quite as well with school starting up again, so if you would be interested in having one (or two or three or four or five or as many as can possibly fit in your dormitory) just let us know, we can rendezvous on your first Hogsmeade weekend and get those to you. They always liked you more than us anyway. Maybe if we give you enough pygmy puffs, you could really train up the army you joked about. They could terrorize Snape round the clock, and wouldn't that be great?
   Give my best to everyone, except Snape. You can tell him to █████ ███ ████ ██ ███ ███ ███ █ ████████ ███. Damn, maybe that part will be redacted. Hello, other person inevitably reading this letter. Maybe YOU can tell Snape to do that.
   Love and miss you! Stay out of unnecessary amounts of trouble!
   Much love, your favorite twin

I chuckled to myself as I folded the letter back up. "Fred says hello." When I looked up, though, nobody was listening to me. Hermione looked disapproving, Harry looked defiant, and Ron just looked back and forth between the two exasperatedly. I sighed. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing, Lu, it's alright," Harry said with a final glare Hermione's direction. "Our Potions textbooks came, that's all. What do the twins have to say?"

"Fred says hello. I'm guessing George will, too," I replied as I lifted George's letter.

Dearest Cub,
   PLEASE tell me someone got a picture of Snape covered in rainbow glitter. At the very least, PLEASE show us the memory over Christmas. I wish you could have seen the look on Henry's face while Fred was reading your letter out loud. He was laughing so hard I thought he was going to fall out of his chair onto the floor.
   We sure do miss you here, but I'm glad you're getting up to at least a little bit of mischief over there. Please get up to more, though. A brilliant student such as yourself can certainly afford to spend less time working and more time having fun. And in the future, please include photographic evidence of your shenanigans. We need proof that you're actually having fun.
Fred told me he mentioned the pygmy puffs to you, so there's no sense in me repeating that. Please take at least one off our hands. It's madness here. They're going to revolt any day now, I just know it. They're going to plaster the store in BRING LUCY BACK signs and, I don't know, eat all of our fireworks or something. It's bound to be messy, please come back before chaos erupts.
   In all seriousness, we miss you. Take care of yourself, Cub. We'll see you soon.
   Love you, George
P.S. Please say hi to the others. We miss them, too.

"George says hello as well," I announced.

The rest of breakfast passed rather pleasantly, though I could tell Ron was nervous about tryouts. Soon enough, it was time for Harry and me to head down to the Pitch. It wasn't raining, but the day was bitterly cold and windy, so I was correct in thinking we'd be able to see who would perform best in poor weather conditions.

Harry and I had prepared extensively for our co-captaincy, having many genuine meetings mixed in with the ones we pretended to have when we just wanted to be alone together, but nothing could have prepared us for the zoo that was tryouts. No, actually, to say that would be insulting to zoos. In zoos, animals are all in their rightful place. We had to tell Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that they weren't allowed to try out for the Gryffindor team.

In the end, the decision was really quite simple. Katie remained a Chaser, and she was joined by Demelza Robbins and Dean Thomas. I would play as one Beater, and Ginny Weasley would obviously be the other. With Harry being Seeker, Dennis was out of a job, but we told him he could be our reserve player — and we told him there was a fairly good chance of him getting to play a game, given Harry's track record. Harry and I were scared for a bit that Cormac McLaggen was going to block more Quaffles than Ron, which would make us look bad for choosing Ron anyway, but in the end, Ron was more successful. McLaggen was less than pleased, but Harry and I stood our ground and turned to face our new team: Katie, Demelza, Dean, Ginny, Ron, and Dennis.

We told everyone they did brilliantly, then announced that our practices would take place on Tuesdays and Thursdays. While everyone headed off toward the locker room to escape the rain that had finally started to fall, Harry and I exchanged a look.

"I want to fly, just for fun," I said.

"Me too," he agreed.

And so we did. I snatched a Quaffle up off the grass before jumping onto my broom and kicking off into the sky. Harry and I tossed the Quaffle back and forth for ages, trying various tricks, playing Chaser and Keeper and Keeper and Chaser, then abandoning the Quaffle and just flying for the sake of flying all around the grounds. We returned to the Pitch once it started to rain so hard we couldn't see, pouring from the sky in icy sheets. Harry dismounted first, clumsily. As such, he promptly toppled into the mud, flat on his back.

"Are you okay?" I called.

"Yeah, fine," he called back, trying to push himself up. He failed, though, and fell back down even harder into the mud.

I laughed as I got off my broom, much more carefully. "Graceful, Potter, truly."

"Oh, piss off," Harry said with a laugh.

He held out a hand and I assumed it was so I could help him up, but as soon as our hands touched, he yanked me right down into the mud next to him.

"Oh, how dare you!" I yelped, laughing in spite of myself. "You insufferable git!"

I tried to tug my hand free from his, but he held on tight. Somehow, impossibly, he maneuvered himself up and over me in a manner that made it so that our noses were nearly touching.

"Well," I said breathlessly, blinking, "this is a compromising position."

"Good thing we're the only ones crazy enough to be out in this blinding rain then," he said before he pressed his lips to mine.

I responded eagerly for a long, slow, sweet, rain-soaked moment. Then I pushed him off and sent him sprawling into the mud beside me, giggling all the while.

"There," I said as I sat up solely so I could look down at him. "Now we're even."

Harry smiled, looking very amused and pleased, not making a move to sit up. "You're ridiculous, you know?"

"Hey, you started this!" I protested. "But, well — " I clutched the front of his robes with both hands and swiftly pulled him up to a sitting position. "I'll finish it, if you insist."

I leaned in, and Harry threaded his muddy fingers into my muddy braid to pull me the rest of the way into another muddy kiss, and, despite it all, the mud and the grass, the sweat and the rain, it was one of the sweetest we'd ever shared.

When we made our way up to the Gryffindor common room, clean but still dripping wet because we figured using the Quidditch locker room showers was our best course of action, we were surprised to find that music was blaring, and a number of people were singing along.

Harry's gaze immediately snapped to me, wide and worried about me this close to the full moon since my hearing was so sensitive, but I merely smiled to show him it was okay.

"This was one of Cedric's favorite songs!" I shouted over the music.

"What?" he shouted back. "Didn't hear you!"

"I know this song!" I shouted louder.

I looked for the source of the music, and sure enough, I found the Creevey brothers standing behind the record player that had once belonged to Lily Evans. Colin flashed me a thumbs-up and a smile, and I replied in kind. When the song ended, there was a brief pause as Dennis pointed his wand at the vinyl and Colin pointed his at the record player to start the song over again.

"It was one of Cedric's favorite songs, it's one of the songs on the Walkman Henry gave me," I explained hurriedly to Harry. "C'mon, let's go find — "

Before I could even finish my sentence, Ginny rushed over and grabbed me by the hand, wordlessly dragging me away. I snagged Harry by the wrist and dragged him along too, to the corner of the room where Ron and Hermione and Dean and Lavender and Seamus and Parvati and Neville were already waiting. The song started up again, and I joined in the singing as loud as I dared.