CASS:

"I'm heading to Leah's house!" I called.

"Wait, I want to come!" Bradley piped up, running out of his room. "Can I, Mom, can I?"

"You know it's not polite to invite yourself, Bradley," Mom replied without looking up from the dishes she was washing, "but if Mrs. Vessey says it's okay, then yes. You'll ask, won't you, Cassidy?"

"Of course," I said, her use of my full first name getting under my skin yet again. At school, I was Cass, just Cass, but at home, I was Cassidy, once-perfect daughter who'd gone and ruined it all by being magic. Not that anyone other than my parents and my maternal grandparents knew I was magic — my parents had forbidden me from telling anyone else, and my grandparents knew better than to say anything for fear of my parents automatically blaming me if anyone else found out — but everyone knew I must have done something awful to warrant my parents sending me off to a boarding school in Scotland for ten months of the year. "I'm sure Jeremiah would love to play with you, Bradley, if he's back from summer camp."

"He should be! It's the first of August! Which means my birthday is tomorrow!" Bradley exclaimed.

I grinned at him. "Yeah, it is. I can't believe you're finally hitting double digits, baby brother."

"I'm turning eleven, thank you very much!" Bradley said, sticking his tongue out at me.

I pretended to wipe a tear from my eye. "They grow up so fast."

"Stop teasing him and go already!" Mom snapped.

"I'll be back," I said hurriedly, shooting an apologetic look at Bradley, who I could tell hadn't minded the teasing.

With that, I ducked out the front door, embarrassment and irritation making my face burn even hotter than the 120° Southern California summer afternoon heat.

We'd always teased each other, before. Bradley was my best friend, and we teased each other constantly, always knowing when to stop before we hurt each other's feelings. We'd gotten along swimmingly, and when I got back from school, the two of us carried on as if I'd never really left. I had been so worried that I would come back to find that my magic had divided us and taken my best friend from me, but it was Mom and Dad who kept trying to drive a wedge between us. Whereas in the past they'd enjoyed it when we teased each other and encouraged us to banter, every time I tried to tease Bradley, even though it was always light-hearted and never contained any ill will towards him, I was told to stop. Bradley was allowed to tease me all he wanted, but the second I fought back, I got in trouble. I didn't hold it against Bradley, and he didn't hold it against me, but I'd started walking on eggshells around him whenever Mom in particular was around, just in case.

Leah and Jeremiah lived just around the corner, so I made my way to their house in just a couple of minutes. Sure enough, Jeremiah was back from summer camp and eager to see Bradley. I hurried back home to pick him up, then the two of us set out once again to the Vesseys' house.

"I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?" I asked immediately.

Bradley shook his head. "No, not at all. Mom was just being Mom."

"I'm sorry she's been so strange since I got back," I said. "Dad too."

"It's not your fault. They didn't miss you much, but..."

"Careful," I teased. "I think you almost said you missed me."

"Not at all," he replied in a tone that suggested that he had, in fact, missed me very much.

I elbowed him lightly. "I missed you too. I didn't miss listening to you squawk away on saxophone, though, I think my ears are still bleeding from listening to you practice this morning."

Bradley laughed and elbowed me hard. "I'm the best saxophone player in the whole school district! I made first chair in Honor Band as a fifth-grader!"

"Wow, I'm so glad I missed that concert, if that's the case," I said.

Bradley laughed louder. "It wasn't the saxophones who sounded bad, it was the clarinets! Every single clarinet player squeaked at least once during the concert!"

I shuddered. "Sometimes I miss band, but then I think about the fact that I'll never have to hear a clarinet squeak again and I'm suddenly very glad I'm a sports girl now."

"Quidditch sounds so cool," Bradley said in a low voice, on the off-chance we'd be overheard.

"It's the best," I agreed in the same low voice.

I'd been telling Bradley a little bit about the magical world when I got the chance. When Mom and Dad had picked me up, they'd said in no uncertain terms that I was forbidden from telling Bradley anything that could possibly corrupt him with the same evil that had already claimed me. I was somewhat surprised that they were letting me go home at all, but my grandma had told me that my absence had generated so many questions that they were determined to bring me "back to the light." They encouraged me to go spend as much time with Leah as I wanted, since she was a good Christian girl whose dad was a pastor. I had received a letter from my parents in June saying that I would not be allowed to write any of my school friends over summer, because they were operating under the assumption that none of my friends were capable of operating phones. They were correct — but that didn't stop Carter.

As soon as I'd received the letter from my parents, I'd written Leah a letter, and so had Carter. We concocted a story about how Carter was my boyfriend, and our parents were trying to keep us apart, so our only hope of communicating all summer long was finding a way to talk on the phone for just a couple of minutes every day to keep our love alive. Leah, who was absolutely boy-crazy and rather rebellious for being a pastor's daughter, wrote back immediately, gushing about how romantic we were and telling us she would happily keep our secret and how I could absolutely use her phone to talk to Carter as often as I wanted. So, every day, I visited Leah, always sure to be there all afternoon so I'd be ready to accept Carter's call. He managed to sneak out of his house and find a payphone every night when he was supposed to be asleep, and I was always at Leah's house waiting for that call sometime between 4 PM and 5 PM — between 12 AM and 1 AM, for Carter, with the time difference.

I'd told Bradley the same lie about Carter, and he was all too happy to keep the secret. He loved teasing me about how he couldn't believe I'd managed to get a wizard boyfriend.

"Does your boyfriend play Quidditch?" he asked.

"Who do you think taught me?" I replied cheekily.

"I wish you could show Leah a picture of him," Bradley said. "She's so jealous that I've seen a picture and she hasn't. You know it's only a matter of time before she gets too curious and breaks into our house and finds your yearbook with the moving pictures."

I laughed. "Honestly, I don't think she'd notice. She's rather one-track-minded when she's on a mission."

"Moving pictures are so cool. They're like really short movies."

"Speaking of movies, you still want to go see Snoopy, Come Home for your birthday party, right?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's not too little-kid for someone turning eleven, right?"

I gasped in mock horror. "Of course not! Snoopy is timeless!" I held out my Snoopy watch for emphasis. "I'm twelve, and I think Snoopy is cool, so you should too."

"You say that as if I think you're cool in any capacity," Bradley retorted.

"Oh, you — "

I swatted at Bradley, laughing, and he dodged, laughing as well. We chased each other the rest of the way to the Vessey house, and we were welcomed with bright smiles and open arms.

"Let's go swimming!" Leah declared. "It's so hot today, and your swimsuits and towels are still here drying on the line from when we went swimming two days ago!"

We agreed readily, and mere minutes later, I was sprinting at their pool and doing a cannonball into the deep end.

"Cassidy!" Leah's younger sister, Esther, whined. "You got me all wet!"

I looked up, feeling bad until I realized she was sitting on the nearby step, already submerged up to her shoulders.

I laughed. "Esther, you were already wet."

She grinned, showing off her missing front teeth. "I was! I just wanted to see if you'd notice."

I swiped my hand through the water to splash Esther, which made her shriek and giggle and jump on top of me. Since she was only six, I caught her easily, and so began another fun afternoon in the pool.

I loved swimming, and I was good at it. Leah had spent all summer trying to swim as fast as me, we raced up and down the pool whenever there weren't any obstacles — obstacles meaning younger siblings engaging in much more relaxed pool activities like diving for bottle caps or batting a beach ball back and forth — but I still won every time. Even when we weren't racing, though, I just loved the water. I happily went diving for bottle caps with the younger kids, and I loved trying to perfect my dive. Leah's younger brothers loved my cannonballs, and Esther loved when I'd hold her feet in my hands and launch her straight up into the air so she'd make the biggest splash possible when she hit the water. I loved pool days. They were worth every inch of sunburned skin, every minute of chlorine-blurred eyes afterwards. When I was in the water, all of the worries of the wizarding world seemed so far away. There was no war at school, there was no judgement at home. There was just me, just Cass, and the water, and nothing else really mattered.

I was brought back to reality a few hours later by the ringing of the phone. I jumped up and sprinted to the outdoor phone and answered, Leah right on my heels.

"Hello?" I panted.

"Cass," Carter said, sounding relieved. "Just Cass, my darling girl, how are you?"

I grinned and resisted the urge to shake my head. He always laid it on thick when he suspected Leah was listening. "I'm good, I was just swimming, you know I love swimming. Leah's here, too."

"Hi Leah," he said.

"Hi!" Leah squeaked.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Ah, I can't complain about anything other than the fact that I miss you," Carter replied, "though I am comforted by the fact that you have the necklace to keep you company. You're still wearing it, right?"

I touched the necklace on my chest and nodded as I twirled the gem between my fingers. "Of course. I never take it off."

"Good. Don't. How is your family doing?"

I knew that "How is your family doing?" translated to "Your family isn't actively torturing you, right?" so I responded accordingly.

"They're alright," I said. "How's your dad?"

"He's still off on a business trip," Carter replied as casually as possible, but my stomach dropped anyway. I could only assume that meant he was off garnering support for his side of the war effort, making use of all three Unforgivable Curses to the best of his ability. We'd figured out how to resist the Imperius Curse over the course of our DADA project research, in theory anyway, but we had yet to test our hypothesis for obvious reasons, so the thought of Carter's dad traversing the country wreaking havoc on anyone who dared to resist him was a terrifying one. I was glad he wasn't home wreaking havoc on Carter, though, selfishly, so I tried to take comfort in that. "He sent word yesterday that he'll be gone for another week at least. It's alright, though, Ivy keeps me good company."

"Hi Ivy," I said, knowing she was there.

There was a hiss in response that was muddled by the poor connection.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," I said.

Carter laughed. "She just said hi and that she misses you."

"I miss you both too. Keep looking out for each other. I'll see you in a month."

"We're halfway there," Carter said, half to himself and half to me. "Oh, and Sirius told me to tell you he says hello. His parents aren't letting him write any of his friends either, but I visited the Blacks yesterday. Hold on, actually, he — " There was a rustling noise, and Carter's voice returned a couple seconds later. " — I forgot that he wrote down what he wanted me to tell you. Merlin, it's dark. Anyway, he said, 'Hello, my dear, sweet, Cass, I do hope you've found a better hobby than reading this summer. I can't believe I'm about to admit this, but I miss losing to you at w— at chess,'" Carter corrected hastily, stopping himself from using one of the W-words like Wizard or Witch since Leah was listening. "'Losing to Regulus is far more embarrassing, since he is my baby brother after all. I feel much better losing to someone of your intellect, knowing damn well I can still bake better cookies than you.'"

I squawked indignantly. "Not true!"

"Let me — or him, rather — finish," Carter interrupted, chuckling. "'I'm sure you're going to protest that last bit, so please, by all means, sneak out with me next term and prove me wrong. I won't let another year go by without taking you on a proper adventure to the kitchens. You may have evaded me for one year, my elusive firework, but never again! Anyway, enjoy the rest of your summer, do try not to waste away without me. Love, your favorite, Sirius.'"

"Well, that's lovely," I remarked. "You can tell him to shove a firework up his — wait, no, don't tell him that."

Carter laughed, really laughed, which made me smile. "I'll just tell him you appreciated hearing from him, how's that?"

"That's alright, I guess," I grumbled.

"Excellent. Well, I'll let you go back to swimming now. Same time tomorrow, darling?"

"I'm not sure," I replied uneasily. "It's Bradley's birthday tomorrow."

"Oh, shit. Right. Well... I'll call the same time. Leah, you can let me know she's okay, right?"

"Of course," Leah said. "Why wouldn't she be?"

"He worries," I explained. "Being so far away. He's very protective, you know?"

Leah nodded, looking fit to swoon again, and I swallowed down my nervousness.

"Sweet dreams, Carter," I said.

"I can only hope to meet you in dreams to make the hours between now and our next phone call more bearable," Carter replied, having recovered swiftly from the reminder of Bradley's eleventh birthday, which meant I might not be able to check in and tell him I was in fact okay. I had far more worries than Leah knew — magic was something of fairy tales, for her, not something real with the power to rip families apart from the inside out — but Leah would be able to assuage his fears for one day, especially since he knew in advance I might be busy, and with a good, harmless reason.

I rolled my eyes. "You need to stop reading Daphne's sappy romance books."

"Not all of us find pleasure in reading a hundred pages about the Parisian sewer systems, love," Carter commented. "I'm afraid that's something only you and Remus share. Good morning, good afternoon, and good night, Cass."

"Good morning, good afternoon, and good night, Carter," I replied, smiling in spite of myself as I hung up the phone.

Leah squealed, as she always did after a phone call. "He's so romantic! But wait, who was the other person, the one who wrote the note? You don't have two boyfriends, do you?"

"Oh gosh, no, that's just Sirius being Sirius," I said with an emphatic shake of my head.

"He has a nickname for you!" Leah pressed. "What was it? Firework?"

I groaned. "Yeah, well, I hate fireworks, they scare me, but those boys love setting off fireworks. I told Remus once about how much I hate fireworks, and he told everyone else, and now Sirius calls me 'firework' as a joke." I rolled my eyes, neglecting to mention the fact that Sirius and Remus once pranked me, with Marlene's help, by stashing a firework under my pillow, a small one that exploded into the shape of a heart two inches from my face when I tried to go to bed that night. "We're just friends, nothing more. Besides, Carter's my soulmate. I don't think there will ever be anyone better for me than him."

"You're so romantic too!" Leah sighed dramatically. "I want a love like yours one day!"

I bit my lips together in an attempt to stop myself from smiling. Carter was very good at pretending to be in love with me, considering he was gay, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I might have been too, which was part of why I struggled to flirt back at him when he flirted with me. When Leah had asked about the imbalance in flirting once, I had just said I was too flustered to be good at flirting and that Carter enjoyed flustering me to the point of rendering me incapable of flirting back, which made Leah swoon all over again.

"If only you could say something like that to Carter instead of just to me!" Leah said.

I let myself smile then, fingers going back to the necklace. "He knows."

I returned to the pool then, but I merely sat on the steps, mind far away as I watched the others play Marco Polo, which I never particularly enjoyed. I hated having my eyes closed in water, I found it incredibly scary and disorienting not necessarily knowing which way was up and which way was down. I didn't always know what was going on in social situations, but I always tried to make sure I was aware of my physical situation, familiarizing myself with my surroundings and knowing who and what was where. I'd spent most of my life feeling lost, lost in time, lost in my family, lost among my so-called friends, lost in my own head, so I hated feeling lost in space too. My friends at school, my new friends, had caught onto that fact about me rather quickly, Carter and James especially, and Sirius by extension, and whenever I got overwhelmed, they always helped me find the closest exit so I could catch my breath. I needed to catch my breath after a long afternoon of swimming in the heavy August heat.

I twisted the charm of my necklace in my fingers, thinking of the day Carter had given it to me. I had tried to keep my birthday a secret, but my grandparents sent me a letter on March 28th wishing me a happy birthday and saying they'd give me my gift when I was home for summer, which Sirius read over my shoulder, and he wasted no time in telling the entire Gryffindor table about it. My birthday was, coincidentally, the day after James Potter's, and he immediately said that we had to throw a joint birthday party the following year, starting late at night on his birthday so everyone could wish me happy birthday on the dot of midnight and the party could continue for me. When I tried to protest, saying I really hated my birthday, James only declared that he was determined to make me love my birthday and rushed out of the Great Hall saying he needed to get me a gift.

Sirius told Carter it was my birthday too, so, when we had gotten to the Pitch for our weekly flying-slash-Quidditch lesson, which was less of a lesson those days and more of just an excuse to hang out together since I'd gotten so good at flying and at Quidditch, he handed me a box with a little yellow bow on it. Inside the box had been a necklace, something beautiful and simple and perfect for me. I'd wondered why Carter had asked me so many questions about jewelry around Christmastime only to give me a tome full of Arthurian legends, but I hadn't thought too much of it at the time.

It was silver — not yellow gold nor rose gold nor white gold, which all existed, apparently — and the chain was light and long. The charm on the end of it was a small heart, and the gem embedded in it was clear, a diamond, maybe. Carter had insisted on being the one to put it on me, and the second the cool metal touched my skin, a thrill of magic coursed through my body. It was perfect, the chain was long enough that it didn't feel like it was choking me and it could easily be hidden under collars if I needed to hide it, and the charm at the end was small and pretty without attracting too much attention. Carter had assured me it was durable, and I had never once taken it off, which was a testament to how much I loved it.

I'd always hated jewelry, never wanting to wear anything around my neck or on my ears or around my fingers or on my wrists, with the exception of my Snoopy watch, but the necklace from Carter was perfect. Especially when I was so far away from all of my friends and from the magic I'd started to love, the physical reminder that it was real, it was all real, was appreciated. I could still feel the magic of the necklace coursing through me, as strong as it was on my birthday when Carter first secured it around my neck. The magic was always there, but I could feel our magic at its strongest when I closed my eyes and centered myself, clutching the tiny heart in my hand. Carter's magic, alongside my own, a steady pulse alongside my shaky one.

"Hey, lover girl!" Leah called. She splashed over to me. "While you were spacing out, we were talking about how fun it would be if you two stayed the night, since Bradley's birthday tomorrow! Are you in?"

"That would be fun," I replied with a smile. "Make sure Bradley asks our mom, though, she's more likely to say yes to him."

She did say yes, so a couple hours later, I found myself sitting between Leah and Esther at the Vessey dinner table, my sunburned skin radiating heat under the dining room chandelier, and a couple hours after that, I found myself lying flat on my back next to Leah in her bed, the two of us watching her ceiling fan spin around and around and around.

"So tell me about this Sirius boy," Leah said. "His name is really Sirius?"

I nodded. "Like the star, S-I-R-I-U-S. He always jokes about how nice it was of astronomers to name the brightest star in the sky after him. His brother's named after a star too, his name is Regulus."

"British people have such silly names." Leah rolled over onto her stomach to stare at me. "Okay, I've told you all about our school friends in the past month, and you've told me a lot about Carter, but I know next to nothing else about your other friends. You've told me about Remus, who you said enjoys reading, like us."

"Yeah, he does. Sirius teases us for it, but it's all in good fun."

"Why haven't you gone to the kitchens to bake with Sirius? You bake with me all the time."

"Well, no, I hand you ingredients while you do the baking, and we eat the end result together," I corrected, laughing. "I can't bake, and neither can Sirius. Besides, we're not supposed to be in the kitchens, I don't think, and I don't want to get in trouble, but he doesn't care that much."

Leah sighed. "Yeah, you've always been quite a goody-two-shoes. If a cute boy asked me to bake cookies with him, I'd say yes in an instant!"

"Oi, I never said he was cute!"

"You never used to say 'oi' either," Leah fired back with a grin. "Your British friends are rubbing off on you. Besides, based on his sweet little note to you, he just sounds cute, you know? Tell me about him, is he cute?"

"Well, um, I think Carter is cuter, of course," I stammered, "so I've never really noticed one way or the other. A lot of girls fancy him, though, so I guess he is? He has dark hair and grey eyes, and he smiles a lot, and he got kinda tall over the course of the year. And he's really smart, he has good grades even though he naps a lot. It's a little bit frustrating, to be honest, I have to work really hard to be good at school. A lot of my friends are naturally smart, like you."

"You do work really hard," Leah said, nodding thoughtfully. "You're smart too, though!"

I blushed. "Thanks."

"That necklace Carter got you is really pretty," Leah commented. "How do you even decide which boy to date? All three sound so lovely. I want one."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Nobody's actually interested in me, not like that. We're all just friends."

"Except for you and Carter, of course."

"Of course," I amended hastily, "but it's not like that. James seems rather taken with Lily, Sirius told me he fancies Daphne, Lily has a crush on Remus, Mary is incredibly smitten by a boy a year older than us named Reginald, and Peter... I don't know about Peter, actually. He's rather quiet. We get along nicely, though. I'm good at cheering him up when James and Sirius are doing something together and he feels left out. He was friends with James first, but James has more in common with Sirius, and so does Marlene, the third person in their original little group of three. I try to spend time with Peter, though, so he doesn't feel completely alone, and I think he appreciates it."

"Do you miss it?" Leah asked.

"I've been having a fun summer with you, and with Bradley," I replied, "but I do miss my friends a bit, yeah. I mean, I went from being around the same people all day every day for ten months to being half a world away with no contact other than a couple minutes on the phone with Carter. It's been a bit of an adjustment. I missed you, though, so it's nice to be back, even though I miss my new friends too."

"It's been nice having you back," Leah said. "I missed you too." She stifled a yawn. "I think I'm going to sleep, though, it's late. Good night."

"Good night!"

I yawned and rolled onto my side, facing away from her, clutching the charm, an answering rush of magic surging through me. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but I was sick to my stomach with worry.

Bradley was turning eleven. He might receive a letter from Ilvermorny the next day saying he was magic. I was terrified.

I was terrified of what would happen if he didn't get a letter. He'd remain at home, and I'd go back to school, and my parents would have ten more months to try to turn him against me. They hadn't succeeded yet, but with six more years to go, where I'd be gone for ten months out of the year, not allowed to write home, I couldn't be sure he'd still love me when summer came around again. We would continue being different, and it would be better for him not to be magic, but I worried that we'd drift apart, never to drift back together.

More than that, though, I was terrified of what would happen if he did get a letter. There was a small chance that he'd be okay. He had been the favorite child, even before I'd gotten my letter saying I was magic. Maybe my parents would view him more favorably than they'd viewed me. Maybe they'd blame me for corrupting him instead of blaming him for being corrupted. But maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they'd blame us both, and they'd send us even farther away than Scotland, and I'd never see my friends again, and I'd have the responsibility for his well-being on my shoulders.

Carter's words from months ago, unbidden, floated to the surface of my mind. "No sense worrying about something you can't control. He's either magic, or he's not, and it will be okay no matter what." I wanted so desperately to believe him, to trust that I'd be okay, and Bradley would be too.

I squeezed the necklace tighter and shut my eyes, inhaling deeply to try to steady myself, center myself.

In addition to teaching me how to fly and play Quidditch, Carter had spent a lot of time teaching me spells too, because he said he slept better at night knowing I'd be able to defend myself if any pure-blood assholes tried to give me trouble. I'd struggled, though, trying to force myself to approach spells the exact same way Carter approached spells. He cast every spell with perfect incantation pronunciation, deft wand movements, and a thorough understanding of how exactly the spell would affect the target. When I would try to copy him exactly, my spells would work, but they were never as powerful as his. The two of us, ever the scientists, had experimented, trying to figure out what exactly was holding me back. We tried switching wands, but that only resulted in weaker spells for the both of us. He tried teaching me stronger spells, thinking maybe my power would increase exponentially and catch up to his or something if I tried more advanced spells, but my power just increased proportionally, still weaker than his. I suggested that it was because I was a Muggle-born and he was not, but he looked so angry as he denied that was the reason that I never dared suggest anything like it again. Finally, one night, we finally stumbled across the answer, rather by accident. Carter placed his hand on top of mine, our wands side-by-side as our fingers intertwined, and we tried to cast a spell together, and in that moment I understood that our magic was different, it felt different, and, as such, it behaved in ways uniquely suited to our strengths.

Carter's magic was calm, strong, calculated. His magic was everything an aspiring healer needed to be. Cool under pressure, well-practiced, confident. Carter's magic was like cold water running over a burn, a sharp blade slicing open skin with surgical precision to fix what was wrong, a needle stitching together an open wound. When Carter was casting a spell, he was doing it with the self-assured detachment of someone who'd done it a million times — and, knowing Carter, he had cast those spells a million times.

My magic was warm, intense, obsequious. I wasn't sure how exactly my approach to magic benefited me, and Carter wasn't sure either, but he was quick to assure me that I was just as powerful as he was, just in a different way, and that we'd figure it out and that I'd start performing with his level of success once I was a bit more practiced. And he was right. As I gained skill and confidence, I learned that my magic, though anxious and a bit erratic at times, was remarkably intuitive when I allowed it to be, as opposed to when I tried to force it to be more like Carter's. I was nowhere near as powerful as Carter yet, since he still had several more years of experience than I did, but slowly but surely, I got stronger with every passing day.

Both streams of magic coursed through me that night as I clutched the necklace. My magic tried to convince me that something awful was on the horizon, but Carter's magic soothed the feverish race of panicked thoughts enough to make me feel like everything would be okay anyway, as long as he was okay. The labored pounding of my heart eased a bit as our magic, at its most powerful and comforting and sure when combined, seemed to wrap itself around my very soul.

I fell asleep still clutching the necklace, hoping against hope that all would be well soon.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

The next day, I was able to stay at Leah's house until Carter called. To ward Leah off so I could talk more freely to Carter, I'd said earlier in the day that Carter wanted to wish Bradley a happy birthday and talk to him a bit, so when the phone rang, Leah remained in the pool, and Bradley climbed out.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hi, Cass," Carter said.

"Leah's not around, but Bradley's on his way over, I told everyone you wanted to wish him a happy birthday," I explained in a low voice. "No letter... yet, anyway."

"Alright," Carter replied.

Bradley jogged over. "Hi, Cassidy's boyfriend!"

I rolled my eyes and passed the phone to Bradley, listening with amusement to his half of the conversation.

"Thanks! Yeah, I'm 11, despite whatever Cassidy might have said about me being younger. Wait, really? You are? My sister's older than you? She's nodding at me, she looks really smug about it. Is she taller than you too? Good. Yeah, she is making the face where she furrows her eyebrows and she looks like a little kid trying to make an angry face for the first time — "

"Alright, that's enough," I said as I reached for the phone.

Bradley laughed and handed it back to me.

"I do not look like a little kid trying to make an angry face for the first time!" I protested.

"Your angry face is the exact opposite of scary," Carter chuckled. "Your brother's funny."

"Of course he is, he's my brother."

"Someone had to be the funny one in the family, I guess."

"Oh, fuck you."

"You wish you could."

"Shut up, no I don't."

"Don't let Leah hear you say that."

I let loose a loud long-suffering sigh that made Carter laugh.

"You do know we're twelve and almost-twelve, right?" I asked exasperatedly. "Why do you have such a filthy mind?"

"Bellatrix's dad was thirteen when she was born. By my culture's standards, I'm developing right on schedule. We should really get on that, my dear."

I choked on my spit and started coughing, which only made Carter laugh more.

"Die," I managed. "Ivy, eat him."

Ivy hissed.

"I didn't catch that, sorry, she's hard to understand over the phone," I said.

"She said she'd happily oblige you because she loves you more than me," Carter replied with a sigh. "You two will be the death of me."

"Not if you kill us first." I coughed a couple more times, then grinned. "Love you, Carter."

"Love you too, Cass," he said, sincerely. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time tomorrow."

"Eat extra birthday cake for me."

"You'll get yours soon enough, you only have to wait thirteen more days. Twelve, technically, with the time difference."

"Thank Merlin. Bobby makes the best birthday cakes, I don't know how she does it."

"I still can't believe you have a house-elf named Bobby," I said in a low voice.

"Her brother's name is Dobby. I've heard there's a Gobby and a Mobby and a Tobby too, maybe even more."

I giggled. "I love that. Good morning, good afternoon, and good night, Carter."

"Good morning, good afternoon, and good night, Cass."

Once I'd hung up the phone, Bradley and I gathered our belongings and started heading home, since Dad was likely getting home from work sooner than later and we'd be having Bradley's birthday dinner.

"Carter seems cool," Bradley remarked.

I nodded. "He is. I'm sure you'll meet him one day."

"I'd like that. Hey, maybe I'll be ma — "

"Shhh, keep your voice down," I interrupted.

Bradley nodded. "Right," he whispered, "sorry. Maybe I'll be magic and go to school with the two of you!"

"Maybe," I said, my stomach churning anxiously. "If you do, I'll teach you all of the protective spells Carter taught me."

"Really? Like what?"

"There's the Knockback Jinx, which, as the name suggests, knocks your opponent backwards," I replied. "And the Impediment Jinx slows someone down as they're trying to attack you. Carter's is so strong it can stop a person entirely and they stay frozen for a minute or two."

"Voice of experience?" Bradley joked.

"Maybe," I grumbled. "There's the Stunning Spell too, and there's a hex that makes your opponent start sneezing up sardines."

"Those stinky fish Dad likes?" Bradley asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah. Carter chose to study it for a school project, and we practiced it on each other for fun, it was gross."

"Awesome," Bradley replied with a grin. "It would be cool to be magic."

"Well, I guess we're about to find out," I said.

We walked in silence the rest of the way to our house, and the second we stepped into the house, I could tell something was amiss. A letter was on the kitchen counter, addressed to Bradley Williams.

"We're home!" I called in a shaky voice.

"There's a letter for Bradley," Mom said, walking into the room with loud, purposeful steps.

Bradley, who hadn't seen it, gasped and reached for it, ripping it open. His letter was from Hogwarts, not Ilvermorny, supposedly because I was a Hogwarts student and they, reasonably, assumed he'd follow in my footsteps. And the letter arrived on its own, without a special messenger, because he was the second child in the family, and thus did not need magic explained to him the same way I'd needed it explained to me.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Williams,
   We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
   Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 August.
      Yours sincerely,
      Minerva McGonagall
      Deputy Headmistress

He hurriedly flipped the letter over to see what was written on the back, and I read along with that too. He needed all of the same clothes and books and equipment that I had needed a year prior, but there was a new note at the bottom of the page informing parents that first-years were no longer allowed their own broomsticks.

"Aw, I can't have my own broom?" Bradley complained once he'd reached the bottom of the page.

I resisted the urge to laugh. "Yeah, sorry, take it up with James and Sirius once you get to school. It's okay, you can borrow mine."

"You have a broom?"

"Yeah, my friends got me one for Christmas," I replied with a nod.

"Why didn't I know that?"

"I, um, didn't think Mom and Dad would want me to bring anything noticeably magic back home, so I left a lot of my magical belongings with one of my friends for safe-keeping." I cast an apprehensive glance at Mom, but her facial expression was unreadable. I hurriedly cleared my throat and looked back at Bradley. "Anyway, you can have all of my old school books, they're with James, but we'll need to get you your own robes and equipment."

"When are we going to get those, Mom?" Bradley asked, looking up at her with an innocently excited smile.

Mom smiled back at him after a second. "We'll have to talk to your dad, but I think all four of us should make the trip to London this year! Since magic apparently runs in the family," she added, a strange look in her eyes despite the smile on her face.

"Maybe it's not so evil after all," I said, feeling brave.

Mom's plastic smile didn't budge. "Maybe. Well, Bradley, the chili you wanted for your birthday dinner is almost done, and your dad should be out of the shower soon, so dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Cassidy, why don't you show your brother whatever magical items you did bring home?"

I nodded meekly and led him back to my bedroom, closing the door behind us and deflating with a sigh.

"That went well," Bradley said. "I was scared for a second that they'd react to me being magic the same way they reacted to you being magic, but it seems like it'll be okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, I was scared too, but yeah, maybe it'll be okay," I replied, rubbing the small scar on my lower back where the belt had cut through to the bone. "Well, um, anyway, I keep my wand hidden here — "

I reached under my bed for my wand and showed it to Bradley, who passed it back and forth between his hands.

"So cool," he whispered. "How does the wand make magic?"

"The wand doesn't make magic, actually. We do. The wand is just a vehicle, it's not necessary, strictly speaking. It helps, though. You'll get your own wand soon. I would show you spells, but you're not allowed to do magic outside of school until you turn seventeen."

Bradley frowned. "I want to see magic, though."

"Here." I reached for my yearbook and flipped open to the pages of pictures from Dueling Club. "This is what it looks like."

Bradley watched the pictures loop with wide eyes, and listened intently to my attempts to identify what spells each person was casting. I flipped then to the pages devoted to Quidditch, and his eyes widened even more. When I turned the pages again, a couple of loose Muggle photographs fell out of the pages onto my lap.

"I forgot about these," I said, gathering the photographs into a stack and flipping through one by one for Bradley to see. "I guess I could technically show these to Leah, though it would be hard to explain why certain people are in such strange clothes."

"Are robes uncomfortable?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but... you get used to it. At least you don't have to wear skirts. I wish I could wear pants under my robes. Anyway, my friend, Daphne, she's a Muggle-born too, and she got her camera to work, so she would take pictures when I was hanging out with the Slytherins. I spend most of my free time with the Gryffindors, but Carter's my best friend, and I really love Daphne, and Keira..." I blushed and fell silent. "And Dorcas keeps to herself, she's a bit of a mystery, but she started spending more time with Keira and Daphne toward the end of the year, so I think she's alright."

Bradley reached forward and grabbed one of the pictures out of my hand.

"What is it?" I asked, perplexed by the contemplative expression on his face.

"Which one's Keira?"

I pointed to Keira, and saw at once why he was asking. In the picture, I was sitting next to Carter, tucked under his arm, and he was looking at me, but I was staring at Keira, who had a sewing project on her lap. Keira loved fashion, and she was always working on something. I remembered that day vividly — Daphne had torn one of her favorite shirts, so Keira had offered to fix it up and make it even better than it had been before. I'd been rather transfixed, watching her take the plain short-sleeved white shirt and stitch a row of vibrant daffodils right through the spot where the hole had once been. She was right, the shirt was even better by the time she was done with it, and Daphne wore the shirt all the time as spring had given way to summer. I'd never cared much for nor about my clothes, and in the picture I was wearing the jumper Remus had given me all the way back in September, but I remembered thinking in that moment that I might have cared a little more about what I wore if Keira put personal touches like the daffodils on my clothes.

"Did she make those flowers herself, or did she use magic?"

"I... don't know, actually," I said, blinking. "I wasn't paying much attention."

"I beg to differ," Bradley replied as he pointed to my face.

"I was just thinking about how cool it is that she can do something like that," I protested. "I wasn't thinking much about what she was doing or how. I'm really clumsy with sewing and embroidery and all of that, and she's really good at it."

Bradley looked at the new top picture on the stack, and yanked that one out of my hands too. "Is that one of the... Golden Snitches, I think, that you told me about?"

I nodded. "Carter has one. We use it to practice. I don't want to play Seeker, but, well, it can't hurt to be good at every position, just in case."

"Walk me through Quidditch again? I always found it interesting, but suddenly it's a lot more relevant. I don't think I want to play it, but, well, sports need commentators, don't they?"

We were interrupted a while later by Mom calling us to dinner. I still felt uneasy, so I hid my wand in my shirt and followed Bradley out to the dinner table.

"So we decided to take a vacation to celebrate Bradley's letter!" Mom announced.

My first thought was of Carter, and my stomach dropped. If I was gone, we wouldn't be able to talk on the phone. He called from a pay phone, I wouldn't be able to get a hold of him and let him know. If his dad did something horrible to him while I was gone, I would be none the wiser.

"Really?" Bradley asked, with hesitant excitement.

Mom nodded. "Of course! We'll celebrate your birthday, and the fact that you're magic too. We handled everything all wrong last year. We're going to fix it now."

Something still felt horribly wrong about the smile on Mom's face, and the rather-forced smile on Dad's face when I looked at him, but I tried to swallow my anxiety and smile too.

"Sounds like fun," I said. "How long will we be gone?"

"Oh, we'll figure it out when we get there," Mom replied dismissively. "As long as we want! It's a vacation!"

"As long as we're not gone too long," I inserted, trying to be careful with my tone. "We still need to send a reply, saying that yes, Bradley's going to school, and we need to get his supplies."

Mom nodded. "We'll take care of it. Don't worry."

I nodded back at her and fell silent, and the conversation swirling around the dinner table faded to a dull thrum, drowned out by my mounting panic. As soon as dinner was done and we'd eaten birthday cake, our parents sent us off to pack — not specifying how long we'd be gone, just saying to fill our suitcases — and go to bed, because they said they wanted to leave early the next morning.

I numbly loaded clothes into a suitcase, and, on an impulse, hid my yearbook in the back of my closet, wrapped in a thick scarf I'd forgotten to give back to Carter. He'd wrapped it around my head on an exceptionally cold winter day, and it had been forgotten in the bottom of my bag when warmer weather came along. I shielded my yearbook with it, and when I got into bed that night, I fell asleep curled around my favorite jumper from Remus, under the blanket Sirius had gotten me for Christmas, clutching the necklace from Carter, a book from Lily on my nightstand that had a drawing from James as a bookmark, and my wand taped to my inner thigh, just in case. I'd taped a note to my window too, for Leah to find, I hoped, saying we were going on vacation and asking her to make sure Carter was okay until I was back.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep, if I'd been asleep at all, when the lights of my room flickered on and Dad walked in.

"Time to go," he said flatly.

I forced myself into a groggy sort of alertness as I rolled up to a sitting position. "It's still dark outside?"

"Yeah. We're leaving in five minutes."

I bit back a sigh and got dressed, feeling totally disoriented and half-asleep even though according to the clock on my wall, it was 6:30, which was a fairly normal time for me to be awake. The clocks in the hallway and kitchen confirmed the same fact, when I stumbled out to the entryway dragging my suitcase. Bradley looked even more asleep than I was, but Mom and Dad seemed perfectly alert, and they were the ones driving, so I supposed it would be alright. My wand was still taped to my leg, hidden by the baggy shorts I was wearing. I shivered in the early morning chill as I helped load the car, since I hadn't thought to grab a sweatshirt, but once we started driving, the heater sputtered to life, and I was comfortable again in no time.

Bradley nodded off next to me as soon as we got to the freeway, but I stared out the window, awake, worrying about Carter. If something went wrong, if Carter needed help, I wasn't sure if Leah would know how to help him. I'd explained a little bit at the beginning of summer, telling her that Carter had an abusive dad so the daily call was our way of checking in, but I wasn't sure if she'd be worried enough by a missed call to try to get him help. I wasn't sure if she'd even know how to help him, even if she deduced that he did need it.

As the car continued on, my eyelids got heavier and heavier, and I soon dropped back off to sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, it was still somehow dark outside. I blinked, trying to look left and right and up and down to see where I was, but I realized that I was blindfolded.

And gagged, I realized a second later.

And someone was tying my hands behind my back.

I made a sound of protest, but I froze when it was my dad's voice that I heard behind me.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," he said, sounding hollow. "I'm sorry."

I wanted to fight, I wanted to scream, but confusion and horror had rendered me immobile, so I didn't resist as he tightened my bonds, and I didn't resist as he tied my feet together either. I didn't even move when I heard him walk away. I was too shocked to even try to struggle.

Until I heard a splash.

The second I heard the splash, my instincts kicked in at last.

Bradley. I hadn't heard him, or my mom, at all. Bradley had been asleep. Bradley was a deep sleeper. Bradley was small enough that my mom could toss him like that into the water.

I launched myself forward and landed hard on the ground, and I vigorously scraped my face back and forth against a rock, trying to get the blindfold off. When I finally managed to get it loose, a horrific scene appeared before me.

We were on the shores of the lake where we always spent our family vacations. Mom was staring at the water, Dad standing halfway between her and me, his back to me.

I couldn't see Bradley, but I could see ripples in the water.

I struggled and thrashed until I got the gag loose.

"BRADLEY!" I cried, spitting out the fabric. "BRADLEY, YOU HAVE MAGIC, FIGHT, PLEASE, FIGHT!"

My desperate screams snapped my parents out of their daze, and my mom wasted no time in marching over to kick me. She hit me square in the jaw, but I managed to maneuver myself in a way that allowed me to wrap my legs around her other leg, and I shifted my body weight in a way that sent her crashing down onto the rocky beach.

"BRADLEY, FIGHT!" I screamed, as loud as I could, even as my dad scooped me up off the beach and started carrying me toward the dimly-moonlit water. "BRADLEY, YOU HAVE MAGIC! FIGHT, BRADLEY! BRADLEY, FIGHT! BRADLEY! NO!"

Dad was talking, saying something I couldn't hear over the sounds of my own screams, but I could make out bits and pieces, like "unnatural" and "evil" and "for the best."

I didn't care. All that mattered to me in that moment was the stream of bubbles I could still see if I squinted.

I kept screaming Bradley's name, thrashing with all my might, until my dad tossed me into the water. As I soared through the air, I had the presence of my to gulp one last lungful of air, and I splashed down into the waves.

In the water, I felt my wand come loose. I flipped over in the water, eyes and mouth wide open, and I managed, somehow, to catch my wand in my teeth.

"FLIPENDO!" I grit out, praying it would be enough.

It was. I shot out of the water and landed hard on the rocky shore, almost crashing into my dad's departing form.

My mom, having recovered from me knocking her over, rushed over and yanked the wand out of my mouth and chucked it far away.

"WILLIAM, TOSS HER BACK!" she shouted.

I thrashed back and forth desperately, straining as hard as I could to get my bonds loose even as my dad tried to pin my shoulders down.

"NO!" I cried. "BRADLEY, PLEASE, FIGHT, FLIPENDO, JUST TRY IT, PLEASE — "

One of my hands slipped free, and I used it to punch my dad across the face the way Carter had taught me.

As my dad's head whipped to the side, suddenly, inexplicably, somehow, impossibly, Carter was there, behind him.

My bonds fell off my wrists and ankles, and before I knew it, Carter was helping me to my feet and handing me my wand.

Without a word spoken between the two of us, we tore off into the water and found Bradley. We worked together to drag him to shore, and I set to work immediately, untying his bonds with violently-shaking hands while Carter wrestled off the gag and blindfold, saying something I couldn't hear over the roar of panic in my ears.

"Bradley, wake up," I sobbed, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. "Bradley." I grabbed his neck, his cheek, his shoulders. "Bradley, wake up! WAKE UP! BRADLEY, NO, WAKE UP!"

Carter grabbed me around the shoulders and started trying to pull me away. I still couldn't hear whatever he was saying.

I went limp in his arms as the world around me collapsed with the scream of a doomed firework. It was me, it was me, it was me, I was screaming, the doomed firework was me. I'd learned how to fly, only to get to the top of the world and realize just how cold it was at the top, just how alone, just how useless the whole journey had been considering I'd left my brother, my baby brother, my first best friend on the ground. He'd tried to fly with me, but he hadn't gotten anywhere at all. He was gone, it was over, cold and lifeless on the ground, the fire on the fuse never even catching. I was floating away, cold and lifeless in the sky, the fire on the fuse suddenly fizzling out.

I was a doomed firework. I was destined to fly for a moment, only to crash back to the ground without doing anything at all. There was no blaze of glory for me. It was over in that moment, it was all over, I was sure of it.

Carter's arms around me tightened, and I realized off-handedly that he was crouched behind me, hugging me tight.

"Cass, I'm so sorry, he's gone, we have to get you out of here," he said gently, his low voice finally cutting through the cacophony rattling around in my skull. "Cass. Cass, come on." I struggled to breathe, and Carter let me go, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Good, that's right, take a deep breath." He leaned forward and closed Bradley's glassy eyes. "I'm so sorry. I was too late. I should have saved you from your parents too. I'm sorry."

All at once, I remembered my parents, and I turned in their direction. Carter got to his feet, hand still on my shoulder.

My parents, wide-eyed and terrified, were backing away slowly.

I looked up at Carter, who just stared at my parents, his jaw clenched, a calculating look in his eyes, knuckles white around the wand in his hand. When he spoke, his voice was colder than I'd ever heard it. With each word, he was spitting icicles at my parents with intent to kill.

"You will never hurt Cass again." His hand tightened on my shoulder. "The fifteenth of August, 1977. You remember that date." He looked down at Bradley, then back at my parents. "Good luck explaining your son's body to the authorities." Carter looked down at me, his face and voice suddenly soft again. "We should go. I'm sorry. There's nothing more to do here."

I turned back to Bradley's body and collapsed onto his chest with a bone-jarring sob. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, I promise."

"Cass," Carter whispered, delicately sliding his hand into mine. I followed his guidance without thinking about it at all, letting him pull me up.

Once I was on my feet, I blinked, and I reached forward with both hands, grasping the fabric of his wet shirt in my hands. "Carter, you — you're — how are you here?"

"I told you," Carter said. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm sorry I was too late to save Bradley, I — I'm so sorry. I'm a deep sleeper so I didn't..." He shook his head. "We need to get you out of here. I know where to take you."

I blinked. "What?"

"You've trusted me for almost a year now, please trust me again," Carter replied desperately.

"I trust you," I said, nodding. Even if the world had crashed down, which it had, I knew I could trust Carter.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. He looked down at Bradley's lifeless form. "I'm sorry."

Carter's hand tightened around mine, and he led me over to a blanket that was strewn across a nearby rock. He wrapped it around the two of us, then muttered a spell I'd never heard before, and the world around me disappeared in a blur of color.

When there was solid ground beneath me again, I caught a glimpse of a colorful meadow and a beautiful mansion in the distance before the world around me seemed to disappear again, this time going black, and I toppled forward.

"It's okay, it's okay," Carter murmured, catching me before I could hit the ground and lowering me slowly to a sitting position on the grass.

I forced my eyes open in an attempt to adjust to the bright sunlight just as Carter knelt in front of me. His eyes widened as he looked at me, and just like that, he was crying.

"Oh Merlin, Cass," he choked out, sobbing, losing his composure for the first time throughout the whole insane ordeal, "I'm so sorry, I'm so so so sorry, you're hurt, I couldn't see, it was so dark, here — " He ripped off a part of his pajama shirt, tear-filled green eyes flickering over my face and dabbing at my various injuries as frantic words poured from his mouth. "I've been talking to Regulus Black all summer and he's been going on and on about how much Sirius loves James Potter and how great the Potter parents are so I brought you here, that's their house over there, you're going to have to be the brave Gryffindor I know you are and go knock on the door and ask for help, I am very very very sure they're not going to turn you away — "

"Wait," I interrupted, suddenly aware that I was crying too, "Carter, Carter, please, slow down, what's going on, how did you find me, what even — what even just happened, why are we here, how — how did you find me — "

Carter pulled me into a hug and just held me for a long minute with shaking arms as he rested his chin in the crook of my neck. "Okay, you're not going to remember a word of this explanation, but that's okay, I'll explain this all again when we get to school. You know the necklace I got you for your birthday? I have a matching one and I enchanted the fuck out of it so that if you were ever in trouble, it would act like a Portkey and bring me to wherever you are, but my father has anti-Portkey magic on our property so I had to run off of our property which is why I was too late and I'm so sorry, I'm a deep sleeper and I was asleep and I charmed it to burn me as an alert system but I slept through it at first, I didn't wake up until you started screaming, and I'm just... I'm just so sorry."

"Burn you?" I repeated. "Are you okay?"

Carter buried his head against me, chuckling weakly. "I can't believe you're asking about me. I'll explain everything on the first of September, I promise, but for now, I need you to promise me something." He released me from the hug and placed his hands on my shoulders, touching our foreheads together, his eyes boring into mine. "You tell the whole truth, except you leave me out of it completely. You tell the Potters that a random witch or wizard in America rescued you and got you a Portkey to the UK and it just happened to luckily spit you out here. Okay?"

I blinked. "I — "

"Cass, please, I need to get back home before my father realizes I went across the Atlantic Ocean and back to save my Muggle-born best friend, please just promise me, I'll explain everything later."

"Why don't you want me to mention you?" I asked.

"Because I'm me! Carter Thomas Riddle! Riddle!" he replied.

"So?"

"Sweet Merlin, please Cass, just promise me, please, I'll explain everything when I see you next, I need you to just trust me."

"I do," I said, lip trembling. I threw my arms around Carter, not wanting to ever let go. He hugged me back automatically, and I got the sense that he never wanted to let go either. "Thank you for saving me."

"You never need to thank me for keeping a promise I've made to you, Cass. Or... trying to keep a promise — " His arms around me faltered. "I'm sorry — "

I choked out a sob and clung tighter to him. "Stop. You saved me. You're a good person, Carter Riddle. Will you be okay?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'll see you on the first of September."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Carter gently extracted himself from my grip and cradled my face in his hand for a moment before getting to his feet. "Now go, brave Gryffindor."

Before I could protest or say anything else, Carter stepped backwards, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, repeated the unfamiliar spell — "Portus," I thought it was — and disappeared.

With nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, I pushed myself to my feet, clutching my wand in one hand and pressing the torn shirt fabric to my forehead with my other hand, and started walking in the direction of the big house down the way that Carter had said belonged to the Potters. As I stumbled down the garden path leading to the front door, trying to just put one foot in front of the other, I repeated a motif in my head that slowly steeled my nerves.

Brave. Be brave, like a good Gryffindor. Brave. Be brave, like a good Gryffindor.

I still hadn't yet grasped why I was a Gryffindor and not a Hufflepuff, even after one whole year of school, but, well, if Carter thought I was a brave Gryffindor, brave enough to knock on the door of the Potters' house and ask for help, brave enough to try to face a world without Bradley, I could hardly bring myself to do anything else. One step at a time.

Brave. I would be brave, like a good Gryffindor.

I knocked on the door with the hand holding the bloody strip of cloth, still keeping my wand half-raised and ready, just in case.

A kind-looking older woman opened the door with a smile on her face, but her smile faded to nothingness as she got a proper look at me.

"Oh my goodness! Sweet girl, are you alright?" she asked.

"Hi," I stammered, heart racing, "I'm — I'm sorry to just — show up like this, but I — I'm Cassidy Williams — "

Before I could get another word out, the woman started ushering me inside. "You go to school with our James, yes? He's told us so much about you — "

"Did you say my name, Mum?" a cheerful voice called. I glanced up just as James appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling. His smile faded the exact same way his mother's had. "Oh, Merlin! Cass!" James raced down the stairs and nearly tackled me in a hug. "What are you doing here, are you okay? Don't worry, don't worry, Mum is really great at healing magic, I hurt myself all the time, how did you — " He pulled away and stared at me, wide-eyed. "How are you here?"

"James, go fetch my healing kit, please," his mum said, and James hurried off to do exactly that without hesitation. Mrs. Potter rested a hand on my shoulder. "Are you safe?"

"I — I think I am now," I managed. "Thank you."

"Do your parents know where you are?" she pressed.

I shook my head. "Mrs. Potter, I — " My voice broke. "They tried to kill me," I whispered, and a fresh flood of tears poured down my face.

"Oh, sweet girl," she said, pulling me into a hug and holding tight until James returned.

James slipped his hand into mine. "Come on, let's get you to a sofa."

I let him lead me, dripping and bleeding all over their nice floors. I didn't say anything aloud about how bad I felt about it, but James seemed to know, and assured me that his mum was good at both healing magic and cleaning magic and that I didn't need to worry about anything. James kept holding my hand as Mrs. Potter administered various spells and salves to the open wounds on my face and my arms and legs, which I supposed had been scraped up in my mad scramble across the rocky shore, as I choked out the story the way Carter wanted me to tell it.

"My parents, they — they hate magic. They hate me for being magic. My brother got a letter from Hogwarts yesterday, he turned eleven, and — and my parents seemed to be taking it well, they said we were going on a trip to celebrate. They woke us up when it was still dark outside, and — and the clocks said it was morning but we had to drive for a long time and it was still dark when we got where we were going, so I don't know what time it actually was, but I — I guess that doesn't matter now. I fell asleep in the car, and I woke up to someone tying me up, and it was my dad, and I was too shocked and confused and sleepy to even try to resist, but then I heard a splash and I — I — I started fighting then, but it was too late, I — I had my wand and I managed to catch it in my teeth once I was in the water and I cast a Knockback Jinx, which worked, somehow, to get back onto dry land. And then — then a nice wizard appeared, somehow, he heard the commotion, somehow, and he helped me, but it was — it was too late for my brother, and — and the nice wizard made me a Portkey that he said would get me here — well, not here specifically, but it would get me away, and I saw your house, and I thought it looked nice, and I just — I just had to hope — "

My voice cracked on the word "hope," and I fell silent, tears spilling into my lap as the reality of everything truly began to sink in.

"I don't know what to do next or where I'll go next until school starts," I confessed in a whisper.

"Don't be silly, Cass, you can live with us!" James replied automatically.

His mum nodded, dabbing something under my eye that soothed away the sting. "You can stay as long as you'd like, Cass. You're safe here."

I blinked. "Oh. Thank you. And thank you for helping me and healing me, I'm sorry — "

"Oh, there's no need for that, sweet girl." Mrs. Potter tucked her wand away and looked me up and down. "I'm afraid you're too small for my clothes, but I reckon you'll fit in James's until we can either fetch your clothes or get you new ones."

"Yeah, my clothes will fit!" James agreed. "Come on!"

James got to his feet again, and I followed after him, my hand still firmly intertwined in his.

"I'm so sorry all of that happened to you," he said, speaking quickly, his distress apparent. "That's so horrible, I'm so sorry that you have to be trapped in between people who hate you for being magic for entirely opposite reasons, that must be awful!"

"It makes me feel a bit like I don't belong anywhere," I whispered.

"Oh, Cass, that's not true at all! You belong! You can stay here, with me, forever, and your parents will never be able to hurt you again, and neither will anyone else. I know there are a lot of bad people in the world, but I love you, and I'll protect you, because you belong here, with me, and I think it's really cool that you're a Muggle-born, you know so much about so many Muggle ideas that confuse me, and you're really powerful with magic too! How did you manage to do the Knockback Jinx with your wand in your teeth?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I was desperate. I just wish it had been enough to save — "

I couldn't bring myself to say Bradley's name out loud.

James stopped and turned to face me, face incredibly sad. "I know. I'm sorry. I wish someone could have saved Bradley too."

"You remember his name?" I asked in a small voice.

"Of course. I know how much you loved him, even if you didn't talk about him very often because you missed him so much."

I nodded. "I don't know if..."

"It's okay," James said gently. "I don't know what it's like, to have a brother, let alone to lose a brother, but I'm here for you anyway, okay? And for what it's worth, I'm so glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if you died." His eyes welled with tears, as if the very thought of my death was too much for him to bear, and he hugged me tight again. "You can't die, Cass, you can't."

"Neither can you," I replied, hugging him back, trying to will the warmth of James into my very soul, which felt as cold as the water into which I'd been thrown mere minutes before.

"You're still shivering," James reported as he pulled away and grabbed my hand again. "I'll get you warm, dry clothes, come on, my room is this one. You're smaller than I am, but my clothes should still fit you well enough!" He pushed open the door to his room. "Go ahead, take a seat, whichever one looks most comfortable to you, give me a minute!"

I tried very hard not to let my jaw fall open as I looked at James's bedroom, which was easily twice the size of my parents' living room. There was a large queen-sized bed up against the farthest wall, with a cherry-red canopy that had gold accents, in proper Gryffindor fashion. On the wall nearest the door stood a beautiful brick fireplace, around which a small collection of yellow armchairs was situated. The coffee table in the middle of the lot was littered with drawings and paintings.

"Half are for you, actually," James said, following my gaze and smiling. "The other half are for Sirius. I can just mail everyone else theirs right away, but I was holding onto everything I made for the two of you until we got back to school. Speaking of, it's just occurred to me that I have your trunk! Do you have any clothes in there?"

I shook my head. "No, just my school uniform, I — I think I brought all of my Muggle clothes home with me. I didn't think — "

"That's okay!" James interrupted before I could spiral. "It was just a thought. Sit, I've got this."

I gingerly lowered myself onto one of the armchairs and tried not to think about how wrong it all felt. I tried not to think of how comfortable the chair was, I tried not to think about what my parents might be doing with Bradley's body, I tried not to think of the sunlight streaming through the wispy white curtains of James's windows, I tried not to think of rocky shores and frigid water. Instead, I turned toward James and watched as he rifled through his wardrobe, emerging every couple of seconds with a new article of clothing, which he dutifully laid flat on his bed. Once he'd arranged four different outfits, he declared that they were ready for me to make my choice, so I joined him next to his bed.

"You look tired, so you can just get into the pajamas if you'd like," James said with a gesture toward the matching red-and-white striped set. "You can take a nap in my bed, or on the sofa, or wherever you want, really, if you want a nap. Once my dad gets home tonight I'll ask him to duplicate my bed so you can sleep in my room! Or in another room, if you don't want to share mine, but you're welcome to share mine! I just thought maybe it would be nice to not be alone, after... well, something like that."

"Yeah, I — I don't think I want to be alone," I said, shuddering.

"You don't have to be! Well, except to change into dry clothes. But even then I could just close my eyes or look away if you really didn't want to be alone even for a couple minutes. It's up to you! Wait, I'm sure you want to wash up!" James gently grabbed my shoulders and turned me until I was facing another door. "Loo's right there."

I reached forward and opened the door, and I couldn't stop my mouth from falling slightly ajar that time.

James had the coolest bathroom I'd ever seen.

It was covered entirely in tiles that were various shades of blue, but that was only a small part of what made it so remarkable. Most of the room itself appeared to be the shower, with only a low wall dividing the sinks and toilet from the rest of the room. The section that appeared to be the shower had a plethora of various nozzles and spigots and faucets, coming from the walls, the ceiling, the floor, with the most colorful shampoo and conditioner bottles I'd ever seen littering the floor.

"Sorry, I didn't think I'd be having company!" James yelped, rushing forward to scoop up an armful of the bottles. "Not that I'm complaining, of course, it's always lovely to see you, Cass, but Mum's been telling me to clean up my empty bottles for weeks now, and — "

"It's okay," I interrupted, stepping hesitantly into the room. "Is that your shower?"

"Yeah! Look!" James cast the bottles aside and stepped into the center of the circle. He reached out and activated a number of the various water dispensers, and they all came to life. Each stream was unique. A couple were just bubbles, others were different colors, and each stream appeared to have a different speed. "Aw, bollocks! I forgot I was all dressed!"

I giggled in spite of myself as James shook his head back and forth and tried in vain to wipe his wet glasses on his wet shirt.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Well, now we match, I suppose! Anyway, you can change the temperature by tapping these tiles — " He reached for the wall with his hand, dragging his fingers back and forth. "Hotter, colder, hotter, colder, Merlin, I should stop doing that — "

I giggled again, and James smiled wider.

"Do you want to try it out for yourself?" he asked.

When I hesitated, his eyes got comically wide.

"I promise not to change the temperature of the water like that," he said hastily.

"It's okay, I know, it's just... water."

"It's okay, I know," James replied, sincere as could be. "You're a Gryffindor like me. When something scares me, I confront it as fast as possible because it's never as bad as I think it will be. Besides, this water is different. I can decrease the intensity of the streams and make the water nice and warm so it doesn't feel like... like what just happened to you."

"Brave," I whispered. "I can be brave, like a good Gryffindor."

James smiled sweetly. "Of course you can, Cass. Come here."

I walked over to James one step at a time, stopping just outside the ring of water, wrapping my arms around my midsection, shaking, though I wasn't sure if it was from cold or fear or both.

"I have an idea," James said. He adjusted a couple of water dispensers, and soon, the water was only falling from the ceiling, a steady drizzle. He extended a hand to me, smiling. "Pretend it's rain. We can dance."

"Okay," I replied, somehow finding it within me to smile at James. He was just so earnest, and so kind, and so sharp, and so quick, and so eager to do anything he could to help the people he loved and to hurt the ones he didn't. He was so very James. I hadn't yet found an adjective that described all that James was. He was just so very James.

I reached my hand out to meet his, and he guided me under the water, and we slowly swayed back and forth.

"I've been keeping up with my dance lessons," James said. "I taught Marlene what you taught me, she thinks it's funny. We're going to be ball-ready by the time we're old enough."

"There are balls?" I asked in a squeaky voice.

James nodded. "Of course! They don't happen every year, but they happen often enough. They're for fourth-years and older. Thanks to you, we're going to sail through Minnie's dance lessons!"

"I doubt I'll be going to any balls," I said.

"Why not?" James asked, frowning.

I shrugged. "Not really my type of activity."

"Well, maybe it will be your type of activity by the time it happens!"

"Anything is possible, I guess," I said in a small voice, fresh tears rising to my eyes.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" James asked.

I shook my head. "No. Sorry, it's just — "

"Don't apologize," he interrupted. "Merlin, Cass, you've had a horrible... day? Night? You don't have to apologize for anything. How can I help?"

"I don't know," I replied. I wrapped my arms around James, letting the water wash over me. No, us. "I don't want to be alone."

I choked out a sob before I could stop myself.

James hugged me back and held tight. "You don't have to be alone ever again, if you don't want to be."

And so we remained for quite a long time, James rocking me back and forth under the warm water until I'd stopped shaking and I'd cried until I had no tears left in me. He coaxed me out from under the water and said he'd go fetch me a glass of water while I changed, once I assured him that I'd be okay being alone for two minutes. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind him, I stripped off my bloodied and soaking clothes and donned one of the outfits James had left out, shorts and a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. He'd even been thoughtful enough to leave out a pair of socks, which I happily pulled on over my feet.

Once I was warm and dry except for my still-wet hair, I jumped face-first onto the bed, deflating with something between a sigh, a sob, and a scream, all of which was muffled by the incredibly-fluffy duvet. I thought offhandedly about how comfortable the bed was, and I thought offhandedly that I ought to get up, before I fell asleep, but sleep claimed me before I could summon the energy to move a muscle.

My sleep was dreamless at first, I thought, but then the scene slowly began to take shape again, feeling somehow even more real than it had when I was living it. The rocky shore, the frigid water, the waning crescent moon in the sky, the shadowy figures of my parents approaching me while I helplessly looked at the ripples and bubbles in the waves behind them. In the dream, I wasn't bound, so I started sprinting toward the water. But my legs moved as if through molasses, and the more desperate I became, the farther away the water seemed. One of my parents grabbed me by the shoulder and started shaking me, but when they spoke, it was with James's voice.

"Cass! Cass, it's okay, wake up! You're dreaming!"

I jerked awake to find that James mere inches from my face, eyes wide. Behind him, his bedroom was bathed in the glow of late afternoon light, and when I tried to sit up, I realized I'd been properly tucked into his bed.

James scrambled backward, crouching on his bed next to me, hand still on my shoulder. "It's okay, you're okay, you're safe."

I struggled to breathe, only distantly aware that my face was wet with tears.

"It's okay," James said. "It's okay. You're safe. My dad will be home soon, he can brew you a dreamless sleep potion so that doesn't happen again tonight, okay?"

"Okay," I managed, covering my face with my hands and trying to take a deep breath. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Cass, it's alright. I was just lying next to you doodling when you started crying in your sleep, so I thought I ought to wake you up."

"Thank you." I lowered my hands from my face and blinked my bleary eyes, scrubbing away the tear tracks with my wrists. "Can I see what you were working on?"

"Of course! Good idea, that'll take your mind off of your nightmare!" James eagerly reached for his beloved sketchbook. "I've been trying to perfect drawing a Gryffindor lion. As you can see, it's a work in progress, I'm not very good, I'm afraid, but I've been trying all summer! You can flip through my sketchbook if you'd like, you can see how I've been getting a little bit better at a time!"

I accepted it when he offered it to me and flipped back to the beginning. He was right, the first sketches were very crude, but his most recent work in progress certainly looked more like lions.

"You know," I said, "Lily has a book where a talking lion is a character. I read it last year, and if I'm remembering correctly, it had illustrations. I could borrow it from her sometime so you could take a look, if you'd like."

"That would be great! Hey, maybe we can invite her here! Only if you'd like to see her, of course. We could invite anyone you wanted, except for Sirius, his parents would never allow it, I tried, but we'll see him again in less than a month! Oh, and Peter is on holiday with his family, they always go on summer holidays together, but he should be back a couple of days before school starts again! Other than Sirius and Peter, we can invite anyone we want! I'm sure Lily would say yes if you were the one who invited her. I don't think she likes me very much, but she certainly likes you. I mean, who wouldn't?"

I blushed at his last comment, but I couldn't stop myself from replying, "The people who tried to kill me, maybe?"

James's eyes widened. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, I forgot — "

"It's okay," I interrupted. "I was just trying to make a joke."

"You need better jokes," James replied with a frown.

"I'll work on it," I assured him.

James nodded. "Good."

He returned his attention to his sketchbook, whispering something about Lily's lions, and I glanced around his bedroom, looking at it with somewhat-refreshed eyes. It was hard to tell that his walls were white because of just how covered they were with pictures of all shapes and sizes of all kinds of subjects. There were family portraits in ornate frames — James looked very much like his dad, but he had his mother's smile — and several other smaller pictures of James with his friends, though they were too far away for me to identify who exactly was in each picture. Artwork was scattered across the walls too, some of it clearly the handiwork of James, some of it more professional-looking. As I looked around, I spotted an acoustic guitar and gasped.

"You never told me you play guitar!" I said.

James set his sketchbook down and jumped up, hurrying over to put the guitar on. He strummed a chord and smiled. "Yeah. I'm not very good, I'm afraid, I only just got it for Christmas. Do you know how to play?"

"I wish," I replied. "I've always wanted to learn how to play."

"We can learn together! Do you want to try right now?"

"I — sure, why not?"

James beamed and walked back over to me as I extracted my legs from under the blankets. Once I was sitting with my legs crossed, James shrugged the guitar off and handed it to me, coaching me through how to hold it properly.

"Do you have a favorite chord?" James asked.

I bit back a laugh. "James, what kind of a question is that?"

James frowned. "Do you not have a favorite chord?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Oh. Well, I was going to teach you your favorite chord first."

"Sorry to disappoint you, then. Why don't you start with your favorite chord?"

"No, no." James shook his head. "I'll teach you C major first. I think of it as the Cass chord, since your name starts with a C and you're too happy to be a minor chord!"

I looked at him with resigned amusement. "Are you sure about that? I've spent most of today crying, you know."

"You've had a hard day, and everyone cries. You'll be your happy self again soon, I'll make sure of it. Okay, so for the Cass chord..."

James guided my fingers to the right places, then told me to strum. I did so, and, sure enough, it sounded like a C chord to me.

"Now teach me C minor, for Carter," I said jokingly.

James snorted. "See, now that's a good joke, Cass. Make more of those."

I grinned. "If I'm C major, he's C minor. We have most of the same notes, and close to the same name, but there are a couple of fundamental differences that make us two sides of the same coin."

"If you say so," James replied. "I'm still not sure why you're so convinced he's good. I tried all year to understand, really I did, but I'm still just so scared he's going to hurt you."

"He's not going to hurt me." I was tempted, then, to tell James that Carter had done exactly the opposite, that he'd saved my life, but Carter didn't want that, so I refrained. I was determined to defend Carter, though, and try to ease the troubled mind of James Potter, golden Gryffindor through and through. "You asked how I did the Knockback Jinx with my wand in my teeth. I'm only as powerful as I am because Carter's helped me with spells. He said on the train ride to school that there were people, not him, who would want to hurt me for being a Muggle-born, and all year long, he taught me spells that would help me defend myself. I — I didn't think I'd ever have to defend myself against my parents of all people, but I did, and I was only able to cast that spell because of him. I never would have practiced it beyond what we did for class if not for him, and I — I might have drowned."

James nodded slowly, processing what I'd said. "I see. Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you didn't drown, and — if you're sure Carter's not just — I don't know — trying to trick you, or something, I'll try to trust your judgement. I just worry, every time I see you and Lily with your Slytherin partners in class. Something about Slytherins working with Muggle-borns... I don't know."

"For what it's worth, Sirius thinks Carter's good too, and we both know he despises Severus," I said.

James nodded again. "You have a point. Alright, so, for C minor..."

I was still learning chords from James when I heard the front door open and close downstairs.

"Oh, Dad's home!" James exclaimed. "Don't worry, Mum sent him a note, he knows you're here and he knows why, you don't have to worry about explaining it to him, unless you want to talk to him, he's a very good listener, Mum and Dad are both very good listeners, but I know you're shy, so you don't have to talk unless you want to talk, I can do most of the talking if you'd prefer."

"You're far better at talking than I am," I said. "Maybe it's for the best if you do all of the talking, and I just hide up here until school starts."

"Nonsense, my parents will love you, but they'll only get to love you if they get the chance to know you. You don't have to talk about today! But you do have to talk about yourself a little bit and risk being a little vulnerable if you want to open yourself up to the possibility of being loved for who you really are and not just for who people think you are."

"I know you're right, but I'm scared," I whispered.

"Well, then, in that case, it's good that you're brave too," James said with an encouraging smile. He lifted his nose and sniffed. "Ooh, smells like mashed potatoes. I told Mum all about your favorite and least favorite foods, by the way, don't worry."

My face flooded with heat. "I forgot how observant you are. You really think you know all of my favorite and least favorite foods?"

"If I'm wrong, please correct me, but I know you hate Brussels sprouts and tomato sauce and mushrooms and vegetables that have been cooked for too long, you prefer raw vegetables a lot of the time. And I don't think I've ever seen you eat fruit, I think you hate it too, but you always look happy when you're eating anything with cheese or chocolate, except for cheesecake, funny enough, and — "

"You're right, about everything," I said, face heating even more. "Bloody hell, you're observant. Has anyone ever told you that you're too observant?"

"Remus," James reported with a grin. "I've observed that you two are the ones who seem most startled by my observations. I don't mean to startle you or upset you, truly, I just pay attention to the people who matter to me, and you both do, you mean a great deal to me. Anyway, are you feeling brave enough to head downstairs, or not quite yet? I can teach you more chords up here, or, if you want, we have a piano downstairs. Do you play piano?"

I shook my head. "I've always wanted to learn how to play piano too, though. And drums."

"I'm afraid we don't have any drums, but Mum plays piano! I'm sure she'd love to teach you! Come on, I'll show you, and I'll show you around the rest of the house too!"

And so, I gathered my courage and kept it as close to my heart as I could as I followed James out of his bedroom door. He showed me around all of the levels of the manor — of which there were several — and he showed me a number of guest rooms and empty rooms that he said I was welcome to claim as my own whenever I was ready to try having my own space. Once we finally got downstairs, he led me to the room with the piano right away, and the sound of James plunking away on the keys, trying to figure out the C major chord, summoned his dad.

"Now which one of you two is creating that beautiful music?" Mr. Potter asked, striding into the room as he adjusted his glasses on his nose.

"It's hardly beautiful, Dad, I'm just trying to figure out the C major chord for Cass," James replied.

"Hi," I said shyly. "That's me, I'm Cass."

"Lovely to meet you, Cass! I would offer my own services in the hunt for C major, but I'm afraid these fingers are better suited to potion-making than piano music." He wiggled his fingers for effect. "Shall I fetch your mum, James? She surely knows where it is."

"I know, actually," I said. "I just, um, thought it was equal parts funny and sweet watching James try to find it for me and I didn't want to interrupt."

James squawked in protest as his dad laughed.

I smiled a bit to myself as I traced my fingers over the keys and hit C, E, and G individually, then together.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to play piano!" James said.

"I don't," I replied, "but I do know which notes are which." I played the Bb major scale, saying each note aloud as I played it. "I used to play that scale every day to warm up when I played euphonium."

"That's wicked! Do you know any other scales?"

"I think I could figure out a couple more if I tried," I said, nodding, "but I think I'd be better with chords. What's your favorite chord?"

"A major."

I found A, C#, and E, and played his favorite chord. James asked me to tell him what each of the notes on the keyboard were, so I walked him through each one, playing a couple of chords here and there as I went.

"I thought surely that's not my son on the piano," the voice of Mrs. Potter said from behind us, making me jump a bit. "You're doing a great job, Cass! Do you play?"

"Oh, um, thank you," I stammered as I turned around. "I don't — "

"But she said she'd love to!" James finished for me.

Mr. Potter was relaxing in an armchair, a soft smile on his face. "I've never been one to object to more music in the house."

"Cass loves music!" James said. "She has a Muggle box in her trunk upstairs that plays music right into your ears!"

"I can show you, if — if you're curious," I said to James's parents. "It's called a Walkman, it has two sets of headphones, they go over your ears so you can listen to music without bothering anyone else."

"How fascinating!" Mrs. Potter said. "Dinner is ready now, and I'm sure you're quite hungry, Cass, but if you'd like to show us your Walkman after dinner, it sounds very interesting!"

"What kind of music do you enjoy?" Mr. Potter asked as I followed the family to their dining room.

"Just about anything," I said. "I have — well — had — I don't know — " I faltered, swallowing back tears as best I could as I scrambled to figure out how best to explain my lyrics folder. "I enjoy writing down the lyrics to my favorite songs. I kept everything in a folder that's in America at the moment. I — I guess I need to make a new one."

"I can help, Cass!" James said. "Remus told me about it, he said you showed it to him one night when you were reading in your dorm together! If you want, I can design special parchment for you so you can build up your lyric collection again!"

"And if you do want to go back and retrieve anything," Mr. Potter said more seriously, "that can be arranged too. You can go back with us, or with Aurors, or with any other adult wizards you trust. We can keep you safe long enough for you to gather any belongings you want. You never have to live there again, but if you'd like to go back, there are plenty of people who would be able and willing to help you with that."

"Thank you," I replied. I cleared my throat to keep the tears away. "Anyway, I really love music. How long have you played piano, Mrs. Potter?"

"Oh, please, Effie is alright," she said. "You can call us Fleamont and Effie, if you're comfortable with that. But to answer your question, I started playing piano around the time Charlotte McKinnon's oldest child was born. I'm sure you know enough about Marlene to know that the McKinnons are a rather spirited bunch, so when I was babysitting, I often needed something to calm the children before nap time, and I found that piano was rather helpful in that regard. It came in handy when I had a spirited son of my own, who has never been content to sit and learn piano for himself."

I cast an amused look at James, who, though sitting next to me at the dining room table, was bouncing both of his legs up and down under the table. "I don't think I've ever seen James sitting still."

"Guilty," James said, smiling. "Guitar is nice because you don't have to sit in one place and play it. I usually practice standing up, or pacing back and forth. Same with painting, that's something you can do standing up. Nothing beats Quidditch, though! Hey, Cass, if you want, we could invite Marlene over, I'm sure she'd love to play Quidditch! You must have missed it, with your broom here!"

I nodded, trying not to think of Bradley. James, correctly sensing he'd accidentally trod upon sensitive territory and expertly saving the situation, steered the conversation in the direction of magical creatures, somehow, which was something I'd never discussed with Bradley. I was perfectly content to listen to James talk about magical creatures, and listen to his dad talk about how various magical creatures contributed useful ingredients to potion-making, my reactions to the conversation watched carefully by James's mum, who I sensed early on was the Potter with the greatest gifting of tact.

And the greatest gifting of cooking, I learned, as her dinner was one of the most delicious I'd ever had. After the meal, Mr. Potter — no, Fleamont — excused himself to the basement to tinker with a couple of potions in his home apothecary. I offered to help clean the kitchen, but I soon learned that my offer of assistance was not necessary, thanks to magic. I watched with awe as a few flicks of Mrs. Potter's — no, Effie's — wand, the dishes were washed and dried, the pots were scrubbed, and the table reset itself.

"You can, however, help me with eating these cookies, if you would be so kind, Cass," Effie said with a knowing smile as she flicked her wand and using magic to bring a jar of cookies from a high shelf onto the kitchen counter. "They're chocolate chip."

"I suppose I can help with that," I replied, smiling as I reached for one.

James reached for three and eyed my one warily. "Cass, I know you. I've seen you eat four cookies in one sitting without so much as a sip of milk in between each. You can have as many cookies as you want here."

I blushed bright red and reached for two more, and I followed James outside to his backyard to watch the setting sun as we enjoyed our cookies on the steps of their back porch.

"That tree would be perfect for a rope swing," I commented, gesturing toward the large tree that partially hung over the large pond on the Potters' property.

"A what?" James asked.

"If you tie a rope to a sturdy branch, you can swing on it and jump into the water," I replied. "That tree looks like it has a lot of strong branches that hang over the water. I don't know if you ever really swim in the pond, but if you do, rope swings are fun."

"Do you want to swim in the pond?"

I shrugged. "No. But maybe one day."

"Would a rope swing make you want to?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know. Sorry, that was just a random observation. Wait, James, you have Quidditch goal hoops in your backyard? That's wicked!"

"Yeah. Whenever you want to invite Marlene over, just say the word. Maybe the day after tomorrow? I reckon you'll need tomorrow to adjust to being back in this time zone, even with the help from sleeping potions tonight."

"Day after tomorrow sounds good," I said with a nod. "It'll be good to see her. I've missed everyone so much. And... and Quidditch."

"You looked sad when it came up earlier," James commented. "Is there a reason?"

"Explaining Quidditch to my brother was one of the last conversations we — " My voice broke, and I bit off a corner of a cookie to give my mouth something to do instead. "Your mum's cookies are delicious, by the way, much better than mine."

"Happy to hear it. It's okay if you want to talk about your brother, by the way, and it's okay if you don't. I'm sure you'll need a little time to start feeling okay again, but that's okay. You're not alone. A lot of people love you, even if your parents, who are supposed to, didn't."

"Thanks, James," I whispered.

"Of course, Cass."

I rested my head against his shoulder and smiled a bit when he rested his head against mine. We finished our cookies and stayed outside until the sun had almost fully set, then returned inside. While we'd been outside, Fleamont had gone into James's room and duplicated a bed for me, and he'd set out various labeled sleeping potions for me, and Effie had managed to find a trunk of James's old clothes that were exactly my size, so I had enough clean clothes to last me a couple of days. I crawled into the duplicated bed, feeling heavy in both body and soul, but after about two minutes of waiting for the sleeping potion to kick in, I shimmied out of bed and got to my feet, only to find that James had done the same.

"I don't really love the idea of you sleeping alone," he admitted in a whisper.

"I was just about to say I don't want to sleep alone," I whispered back.

And so the two of us crawled into James's bed, and I fell asleep curled under the protective arm of James Potter, and my sleep was blessedly deep and dreamless.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

When I opened my eyes an unknown amount of time later, James was no longer in bed with me. Instead, he was standing at the window, owl on his shoulder, letter in his hand, a look of horror on his face.

"What is it?" I croaked, squinting against the bright sun.

"It's from Lily," he replied without looking up. "She thinks you've been kidnapped or killed."

I scrambled to my feet and almost tripped over my own feet in my rush to get over to James to see the letter for myself. He handed it over to me, and I read it for myself, Lily's handwriting shakier than I'd ever seen it.

August 4, 1972

Dear James,
   Thank you for the drawing of the lily flowers, they really are quite lovely. I wish I were writing with good news, but I saw something horrible on the Muggle news this morning and I wanted to write everyone who might not know.
   Somehow, there was an attack on the Williams family all the way in America. According to the news, Cass and Bradley were both kidnapped in the middle of the night. They disappeared. There aren't any bodies. The Muggles don't have any idea what could have happened or why, there were no signs of a break-in or of any kind of struggle, but they're both gone, without a note or a trace or any kind of a trail to follow. It sounds like magic.
   I hope they're okay, but with the way the war is going here in England, I'm terrified. I think it's possible that they were killed. I don't know if Bradley was magic, but Cass is, and... James, I don't know what to do. Her poor parents looked so upset. I wish I could do something to help find her, or to help comfort her parents, or something. Do you know if there's anything we can do? Or, well, the Ministry, or Professor Dumbledore, or anyone?
   Please write when you can, even if there's nothing we can do. I'm just so scared.
      Sincerely, Lily J. Evans

I felt my breath punch out of me as I handed James the sheet of paper.

"I have to let her know you're okay," James said.

I nodded, panic climbing. "And everyone else, too."

"I can't believe it," James said. "Maybe — I don't know — maybe there's a reason your parents lied."

"Yeah, to avoid getting murder charges, even though they're deserved," I choked out.

James groaned. "What do we do? I don't know how to send Muggles to Azkaban!"

"I didn't even think — our — our grandparents — Leah — Jeremiah — our friends — our whole extended family — "

"It's okay." James grabbed my shoulders. "Breathe. We can figure this out. Come on, my mum will know what to do."

James guided me downstairs by the hand, and we found his mum sitting at the piano, rifling through sheet music.

"Mum, we have a problem, we need help," James said.

Effie turned around at once, eyes soft. "What's wrong, my dears?"

"Everyone thinks Cass got attacked by You-Know-Who or Death Eaters. Her parents were on the Muggle news and Lily wrote a letter saying she thinks it was a magical attack and she was going to write all of our friends about it in case they didn't hear."

"Cass, dear, would you rather write letters to your friends, or invite them all here to see you for themselves?"

"I — I don't know," I stammered, "it's just — I don't want everyone to worry — but — on the other hand, if You-Know-Who thinks I'm dead — I don't know."

"You think about your friends, and let the adults think about the best way to keep you safe," Effie said kindly. "James, darling, would you mind Floo-ing Charlotte and asking her to get a hold of Keith? He's an Auror, I'm sure he'd have a good idea of what to do."

James looked at me. "If you want to see Marlene, we can ask her to come over via the Floo."

"I — I think I want everyone to see me," I managed after a moment. "Writing all of those letters — I think it's best if everyone just sees me."

James nodded. "Okay. Let's go."

"I've never seen the Floo in use before," I said as we walked to the nearest fireplace a couple rooms over. "I've had it explained to me, but — you can actually get in the fire?"

"Yeah, it's neat," James replied, but his voice was small with worry.

I slipped my hand into his, and he held tight as he tossed the Floo powder in and shouted for the McKinnons. I got down on the rug with him, holding onto his hand as he placed his head in the green flames. He emerged a minute later and half-dragged me off to the side.

"She's on her way right now, we need to move out of her way," James said.

Sure enough, a couple seconds later, Marlene appeared, crumpled piece of parchment in her hand. She didn't even bother hauling me to my feet, instead just landing on top of me and hugging me tight, sniffling hard.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked.

"It's a really long story, but I'm okay," I replied.

Marlene hugged me tighter. "Thank Merlin."

"Marls, who else did Lily write?" James piped up.

"Everyone except Sirius, she didn't want to get him in trouble," Marlene replied, releasing me and wiping her eyes. "I don't know what order she sent the letters in or how many owls she was able to find, so I don't know who all knows yet, but I agree, everyone's going to want to see Cass."

James nodded. "How about you two go catch up, and I'll work with my mum to contact everyone?"

"Have you shown her the garden yet?" Marlene asked, getting to her feet and helping me up.

"No, that's a good idea," James said with a nod.

I followed Marlene out to the garden, which was bursting with so much life it almost hurt my eyes, seeing all of those brightly-colored flowers in the noonday sun. I didn't feel much like talking, so Marlene filled the silence, telling me all about what she'd been doing all summer and saying that she missed writing me and that she was so glad I was okay. We were sitting on one of the many benches when someone called out.

"Cass? Marlene? James said you were out — "

The second Remus rounded the corner and saw me, he sprinted forward. I got to my feet just in time to intercept his hug, and he hugged me so tight I felt as if my bones would shatter in his grip, not that I would have minded.

"Merlin, I have never been so relieved to hear James Potter's voice," he murmured, his hand moving to hold the back of my head.

I chuckled weakly, remembering the many times I had to listen to his complaints about James never shutting up. "I agree."

"What on earth happened?" Remus asked as he pulled away and looked me up and down. His gaze locked on the recently-healed abrasion on my face and he reached out to gently touch it. "Are you okay?"

"I — I don't really want to relive it right now, but I'm okay," I said.

Marlene's voice was soft. "And your brother?"

I shook my head, a couple of tears burning the backs of my eyes.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," Marlene said.

"Me too," I replied, voice cracking but not breaking. I cleared my throat. "So, um, how's your summer been, Remus?"

He looked at me, his exasperation apparent. "Are you seriously asking me — "

"Sirius-ly?" Marlene interrupted.

Remus groaned, I smiled, and Marlene cackled.

"He's going to lose it when he finds out," Remus said in a soft voice, sobering the rest of us right up. "He has Regulus."

"Regulus," I repeated. My stomach sank.

Before I could think too much about it, there was a loud shout.

"CASS?"

"Over here!" Marlene called back.

Lily Evans burst into view, her face almost as red as her wild red hair flying behind her as she dashed toward me. Remus hurriedly stepped behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder to help keep me upright as Lily barreled into me, choking out a sob.

"I thought you were dead!" she cried. "I was certain that someone with magic had somehow found you and — and — " She released me and looked at me with wide, concerned green eyes. "What happened, what really happened?"

I gnawed on my lower lip. "I don't want to talk about it more than I have to, but — I — "

James appeared then, massaging his forehead. "I can't get a hold of Mary, I sent a letter, though, with any luck it'll get there before yours, Lily."

"I sent hers first," Lily said. "I'm sorry for sending all of the letters, I just — "

"No, don't apologize, it's okay, we were trying to figure out how to tell everyone about it so this helps answer that," James interrupted with an attempt at a cheerful smile.

"I think Cass was just about to explain," Remus said. "Whatever you're comfortable explaining, anyway."

"Was it Death Eaters?" Lily asked in a whisper.

I shook my head. "It was my parents."

Lily gasped. "What?"

I nodded, cold creeping over me. "They — I — " I shuddered. "I don't want to talk about it, but the — the police — if they want to find Bradley, they — they're going to have to look in the lake, I can't imagine they tried to — to — "

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, Cass," Remus said, squeezing my shoulder.

Lily didn't say anything, just pouncing on me in another hug and holding tight. Marlene got up to hug me from behind, sandwiching Remus between the two of us, and James rushed over too, never able to resist a group hug.

I found out later that Effie told James to keep us all outside while a group of adults convened in the Potters' main living room and talked about what to do, so we wiled away the afternoon in the garden and on the grounds, talking about anything and everything other than what I had experienced the previous day. I was content to listen, and they let me just listen, but everyone kept reminding me in a myriad of ways just how glad they were that I was okay. Whether it was spoken in words or communicated via a small touch, everyone made sure I knew I was loved and safe.

For what it was worth, I was immensely relieved to see that Remus was okay. I'd been incredibly worried about him on the full moon, and I almost risked my parents' wrath to send him a letter making sure he was alright, but I trusted that, like Lily had done when she thought something had happened to me, someone would let me know if something had happened to Remus.

As much as I was overwhelmed by the attention and wanted to run and hide and catch my breath, after a solitary July and a horrifically traumatic August so far, I did my best to just let myself soak it up. I was surprised by just how much everyone loved me. I didn't think my friends hated me, not at all, but I was touched by the fact that they'd all rushed over to the Potters' just to be with me after receiving the letters Lily had sent out to everyone. The fact that Lily had sent out letters at all was so sweet I didn't really know what to do with myself.

When I found myself sitting under a tree with Remus, the two of us hiding from the sun and watching as James, Marlene, and Lily splashed about in the pond, trying to catch frogs, I felt myself glowing with more than just sunburn. Something had died within me on the rocky shores of the lake I'd once loved, something I would never get back. I'd loved Bradley and he'd loved me too, and there would always be a hole punched through me by his absence, a bullet hole in my soul that was still bleeding and likely would continue to bleed for a long time. But in that moment, I thought of all of the people who had rushed to my side to patch me up as fast as they could, from Carter to the Potters to the fellow Gryffindors I loved so dearly. I was still hurting, still bleeding beneath it all, I felt as if I had a wound deeper than perhaps anyone realized, myself included. Even as I basked in the warmth of being loved so much, I felt a little bit of my life draining away, because part of me was still on that beach, still screaming her baby brother's name. But everyone had bandaged me up in their own ways, everyone had come running to me with all of the love and care they had to give and held nothing back as they tried to hold me together, and I would always be in awe of that. In my hour of darkness, I'd been quite literally pulled into the light.

I was pulled from my thoughts by Remus nudging me gently.

"Forgive the silly question, but are you alright? You've been staring into space for five minutes, and while I'm never one to object to peace and quiet, it was a bit unsettling," he said.

I nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I was just... trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm here."

"Ah, yeah, you struggled with jet lag last September, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I meant... here, with all of you, you all came just to see me, and... I don't know. I guess when I was living at home again, I forgot about how real this all was. How real you all were."

Remus held out a hand and silently asked permission to grab mine, which I granted by sliding my hand into his.

He squeezed my hand. "We're real, and we're here, and we love you. I'm afraid I'll be a bit occupied in three weeks, but until then, if you want me here, just say the word and I'll come running. We can read, or listen to music, or take a walk, or just sit in silence, which I don't think you're getting much of with James."

"He's been great," I said honestly. "But no, not much silence. I think that's for the best, though, it stops me from going back there in my mind."

"In that case, I can come and talk your ear off," Remus replied with a small grin.

"Thanks. How was... it, last month?" I asked in a low voice.

"It was alright," Remus said. "Nothing eventful." He cleared his throat and moved on abruptly. "You know, I just read a book I think you'd enjoy. Technically, it's not a book, it's a play, but just the same, it was so clever, and..."

And just like that, Remus Lupin was off to the races, telling me all about his summer of Oscar Wilde and promising to bring me a stack of books next time he visited. He was interrupted by a loud shriek from Lily as Marlene dropped a frog down her back, and we watched with amusement as James heroically tried to stop her from falling into the water by throwing himself down behind her, only for Lily to regain her balance on her own and complain that James had soaked her when he splashed down in such a hurry so close to her, which made Marlene cackle all the more.

"And Sirius calls us the crazy ones," Remus muttered, "for preferring reading to... whatever this is."

I grinned knowingly at him, and he grinned knowingly at me, and the two of us turned back toward the other three to watch the chaos unfold, pleasantly amused and detached.

Once dinnertime rolled around, Remus and Lily had to go home, but Marlene wanted to stay the night, so the three of us made our way into the kitchen after Remus and Lily had gone through the Floo. Marlene introduced me to her parents then, who insisted that I could call them Charlotte and Keith, and they seemed just as lovely as the Potters. They went home once everyone had confirmed that Marlene could stay the night, and Marlene returned shortly with an overnight bag.

Over dinner, Effie and Fleamont filled me in on what the adults had been discussing while we were outside.

Apparently, the Ministry had already been looking for me because my use of magic had activated the Trace, but they, obviously, hadn't been able to find me. They said that someone would be coming by to talk to me sometime in the next couple days, but I was assured that I didn't need to worry about it because underage wizards were allowed to use magic to escape life-threatening situations, which mine certainly was.

The adults didn't feel it wise for me to announce in any public way that I was alive, but they'd gone ahead and sent word to Professor Dumbledore that I was alive and well and that I'd be attending school in September. As far as they were concerned, it was for the best if Muggle authorities believed I was gone, at least for the time being, because it would temporarily protect me from You-Know-Who and his followers, too. Surely students at school who were related to Death Eaters would realize I was alive after all come September, but in the meantime, they thought it was best if I tried to lay low and try to heal, physically and emotionally, from the ordeal in peace.

They offered to go back with me to my parents' home in secrecy if there was anything important that I absolutely needed to retrieve, but I was assured repeatedly that the Potters were more than able and more than willing to supply any material needs I had, and they promised me that I'd be safe and loved as long as I wanted to stay in their home and that I'd always be welcome.

In short, I was overwhelmed by the influx of information and the readiness of their kindness, but, with nowhere else to go and no idea what else to do, I had no choice but to try to accept it, despite how little I felt I deserved it.

That night, I crawled into bed with both James and Marlene, sandwiched in between the two, clutching the necklace from Carter in both of my hands, feeling a bit like Icarus. My world had fallen to pieces the second my parents had tossed Bradley into the lake, then me, but Carter had rescued me and delivered me to a world bursting with light and laughter and life and love in abundance. Maybe I had to undergo trial by fire to be welded back together again, stronger than ever. Love was warm, love burned. I only prayed that my wings were strong enough to withstand the overwhelming, all-consuming fire that was the love of the people who had chosen me, because I would sooner burn to a crisp than ever return to the frigid waters that would forever haunt my darkest nightmares.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

 I was just about to head outside and play Quidditch with James and Marlene when the Ministry employee appeared to talk to me about what had happened. James and Effie both offered to stay with me while I talked to her, sensing how scared I was, but the young witch apologetically explained that she needed to talk to me alone. I followed her down the hallway to a sitting room, and she put up a silencing spell to ensure maximum privacy.

"Good morning, Cassidy, my name is Mafalda, and I work for the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry of Magic," she said, extending a hand for me to shake.

I accepted it, my hand trembling as I did so. "Good morning." I pulled my hands back into my lap and started picking my cuticles. I found a spot on my thumb where the skin was uneven, and I picked, and picked, and picked, the sharp pinpricks of pain taking the edge off of the intensity of Mafalda's gaze.

"I want to begin by telling you that I've already spoken to a young Mr. Carter Riddle about the incident," Mafalda informed me.

"Is he okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Mafalda nodded and adjusted her glasses on her nose. "He is. I would like to hear your version of events, just to make sure your story matches up with his. He seemed concerned that you would try to lie to me and get yourself in trouble, so he was quick to tell me that you can't tell a lie to save your life though he was quite sure you'd tell one to save his." She offered me a kind smile. "You don't have to lie to me, Cassidy. If your version of events is the same as Mr. Riddle's, which I'm sure it will be, then this will all be quickly resolved."

"Carter, he — he didn't want me to tell anyone about his involvement," I stammered, my heartbeat so thunderous in my ears I wondered if Mafalda could hear it from where she was sitting a couple feet in front of me.

"His involvement?" she repeated.

"He didn't do anything wrong!" I squeaked, shaking my head. "He wasn't involved in the sense that he did anything to hurt me, not at all, his involvement was that he saved me, but he didn't want me to tell anyone that he was the one to save me, but if you've already spoken to him, I'm assuming you already know that, so — so maybe I'm panicking over nothing," I finished softly.

Mafalda nodded. "I understand that you've been through a horrible, confusing ordeal. I promise I am not here to further harm you. The facts of this incident must be documented, though, and I need the report to be truthful."

"Carter's dad can't find out that he saved me," I whispered. "He'd — he'd use something Unforgivable on Carter if he found out. Carter's not — not supposed to even associate with people like me, let alone save their lives."

"I see. It will comfort you, then, to know that the young Mr. Riddle was home alone with his snake and his house elf when I arrived, and that we've been unable to reach his father," Mafalda said.

"Good. Please don't try. It would put both of us in danger."

Mafalda looked uneasy. "I've only just started working for this department, but I know that's against protocol."

"Did you tell my parents about my use of magic?" I asked.

"We were unable to reach your parents as well. We had quite a difficult time finding you."

"Please," I begged. "I'll tell you the truth, the whole truth, but please, please don't let our parents find out about it. I'm not exaggerating when I say our lives would be at stake."

"Okay," Mafalda said after a moment. "There's a very-secure place in the Ministry for sensitive files. I can keep it there, and cite your ages and the traumatic nature of the incident as my reason for keeping it there. Only myself, my supervisor, and the Minister himself would be able to access it."

I deflated with a sigh. "Thank you." I looked down at my fingers to see that I'd drawn blood. I found another patch of uneven skin on my index finger and started picking at that instead. "Well, it started when we received my brother's Hogwarts letter..."

I didn't look at Mafalda once throughout my story, instead systematically destroying my cuticles one by one, ripping the skin off with my teeth whenever I was too overwhelmed to speak and needed a second to compose myself. I told the truth, because I knew Carter would too, since we didn't have time to come up with a lie together that involved him and he'd already been interviewed in connection with the incident. The only detail I excluded from the story was Carter's cryptic comment about how they should remember the date of his seventeenth birthday. That seemed like a threat, and I didn't want to risk getting him in trouble. I didn't share many details about the specifics of what we'd both said that night, because I didn't remember any specifics. I just remembered how I felt. Safe, with Carter, and loved, by Carter, despite the fear and the sorrow. I didn't let any tears fall no matter how many times they rose to my eyes, but by the end of the story, I still felt like I'd died all over again. She didn't interrupt once, instead reading the notes on her lap and scribbling something down occasionally.

"And then I knocked on the door," I concluded, finally looking up at her, "and I've been here ever since, and I think I'm going to stay here for a long time."

"Thank you, Cassidy," Mafalda said. "Your story matched exactly with Mr. Riddle's. Thank you for telling the truth, and I'm so sorry that the truth is so awful." She wrote something down, then glanced back up at me. "Do you know, by any chance, how he enchanted that necklace of yours?"

I tugged the collar of my shirt down to reveal the necklace. "No, I have no idea. I got the sense that it was enchanted solely because I could just feel his magic, but I don't remember much of what he said about how he enchanted it, if he said anything at all."

"He was similarly vague," Mafalda replied. "He said he wasn't entirely sure how he did it, because your magic was what made it work."

"I didn't do anything intentionally," I said, twisting the charm around my fingers. "He's... well... Carter is hard to describe. He's a good person, though, and he loves me more than anything, and whatever rules he may have broken, it was to save me, so please don't punish him, it was my fault."

Mafalda shook her head. "No punishment will be necessary. Underage magic is allowed in life-threatening conditions, which yours certainly was. I will always wonder how on earth young Mr. Riddle managed to get to you when he did, because Portkeys can't explain the precision with which he found your exact location, but neither of you will be punished for what happened." She packed away her notes and quill into her bag. "That's all I need from you, Miss Williams. Thank you for your honesty, and I'm so dreadfully sorry about all of the horrors you experienced that night. I know the wizarding world is a scary place for Muggle-borns right now, but something tells me you'll be just fine with Mr. Riddle in your corner."

I nodded, feeling too frozen in place to do anything else, and when I made no effort to move, Mafalda got to her feet.

"I will go talk to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, then go file the report. If you ever wish to access the file, find me at the Ministry and it's yours."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Of course. Have a good day."

With that, Mafalda left the room, and James and Marlene rushed in a second later.

"Are you okay?" James asked anxiously. "We tried to eavesdrop but couldn't hear anything. What happened? Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I'm okay. Not in trouble."

"Phew, that's good," Marlene said. "Do you want to come play Quidditch now?"

"I'm not really in the mood anymore, sorry," I whispered.

"That's okay! We can play Quidditch another time! What should we do instead?" James asked.

I shook my head. "You two go ahead and play. I... I want to be alone."

"Are you sure?" James frowned. "You haven't wanted to be alone since you got here. Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?"

"No no, you didn't do anything wrong, and yes, I'm okay," I assured him. "I just want to be alone for a little while, if that's okay."

Marlene nodded and got up, grabbing James. "Of course that's okay, Cass. Come on, James, let's give her a little space. Come find us when you're ready for company, Cass!"

"Will do," I replied.

I remained on the couch as I listened to their footsteps recede and heard bits and pieces of a whispered argument over whether or not leaving me alone was the right thing to do, only distantly aware of the fact that I was still twirling the gem of the necklace in my fingers. The sound of the back door slamming shut jolted me back to reality, and I slowly rose from the couch.

I made my way up the stairs to James's room, my body guiding me without being consciously governed by my brain. For what it was worth, my brain felt a bit like it had been hollowed out. My head felt oddly light, and I stumbled a bit over the rug as I approached my trunk, which James had parked in front of one of the armchairs. I opened it, for the first time all summer, and found my Walkman, which had been delicately wrapped in every robe I owned. I unfurled one layer at a time until I unearthed the Walkman, then slipped one of the pairs of headphones over my ears and shoved a couple of cassettes into the pockets of my shorts.

The familiar soothing sounds of the original Partridge Family album swept over me as I walked out of the bedroom and made my way down the stairs to the room where the piano stood.

I lowered myself onto the piano bench and remained there for a long time, crying silently into my hands as the music swirled through the empty space between my ears. When the album finished, I removed the headphones from my ears and set the Walkman on the bench next to me. Once I'd dried the tears from my cheeks and my hands, I reached for the keyboard with shaking fingers, and I slowly pecked out the C major scale, then the C minor scale.

Before I could think of what to play next, the door behind me opened, and I turned to see Effie approaching.

"I was wondering where you'd gone, sweet girl," she said softly.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Don't apologize, it's perfectly alright," Effie assured me. She gestured toward the empty spot on the bench to my right. "May I?"

I nodded. "Of course."

She reached for a stack of sheet music on the floor and started flipping through the pages.

"When you and James found me yesterday, I was looking through my beginner sheet music, looking for something that I thought would be good for you. Ah, here it is."

Effie placed "Clair de Lune" on the stand, and I felt a small smile tug up the corners of my lips involuntarily.

"'Moonlight,'" I said. "Sirius told me that translates to 'Moonlight.'"

"It's very fitting," Effie replied. "Given your love of music, I thought you would enjoy learning a song first, as opposed to me trying to drill you on piano basics, especially since you already have knowledge of scales and chords."

"Not much knowledge," I admitted, "but I know my notes, and I can read music. I don't know if I'll ever be able to read two lines of music at once and get my hands to play two separate ideas, but, well, I suppose I technically have the musical knowledge to do so, in theory. I'd still really like to try to learn, even if I never play that well."

Effie smiled kindly. "I get the sense that you can do anything you set your mind to doing, Cassidy Williams."

I blushed, and she placed a gentle hand atop of mine, her face growing sad.

"Before we get lost in the music, I wanted to tell you that Mafalda told Fleamont and me the truth of what happened a couple nights ago."

My stomach dropped. "She did?"

"She did. Whether or not it was an ethical decision to make, I'm not sure, since you told her the truth in confidence. I'm afraid I scolded her quite thoroughly before I stopped to wonder about her intentions, but she assured me that she did not mean to harm you in telling me and said that she hoped I'd be able to help you and that you'd be able to entrust me with more in the days and weeks and months and years to come."

"I — I wanted to tell the truth from the beginning, I'm sorry — "

"You apologize far too much," Effie interrupted, her tone soft. "I understand why you and Carter made the decisions that you did. I have heard from my son that the school dynamics are rather complicated — though, of course, he did not say so in as many words, since he is still under the impression that the world largely exists in black and white rather than the shades of grey it truly is. He unfortunately inherited my tendency to make snap judgments and my proclivity for stubbornness. I am proud of him for overcoming these obstacles in the pursuit of befriending Sirius Black, but my wish for him is that he learns to extend the same curiosity and grace to others as well, your friend Carter included."

"Carter is good," I said. "It's just... I don't think he believes that, so he doesn't try particularly hard to convince anyone else of that either. I understand why James was so quick to love Sirius, he's loudly and proudly lovable and those two boys are so very similar, but... I feel the same way about Carter that James feels about Sirius. I want to tell James the truth about what happened, really I do, I want him to see Carter the way I see Carter, but it's... complicated, like you said."

"While Mafalda should not have told us what you told her in confidence, I am glad I know, and I would never dream of betraying your trust, and before Mafalda left I made sure she would not tell anyone else, well-intentioned though her actions were."

"I suppose this is a rather trying test of my beliefs that intentions matter more than impact," I muttered. "I can't find it within myself to be angry with her, but thank you for doing your best to contain the secret anyway, I think it's for the best if it remains a secret for now."

"I agree. As sorry as I am about the circumstances leading up to your arrival here, I must say that I've loved getting to know you, Cass, and having you safely tucked away here gives me tremendous peace of mind. James was very worried about your home situation, as were we."

I felt my face burning and looked down at my hands, at a loss for words for a moment.

Effie seemed to understand, and she offered my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I can tell that you're still adjusting to life here, and that's alright, that's perfectly understandable. You've been through the unthinkable as a result of your first family, and I'm so sorry. I promise, though, that you are safe here, and loved here, and wanted here." Her eyes had a faraway look when I glanced back up at her. "We wanted children for so long, and we love our James so very much, but, as full of life as he is, he's just one boy, and a very social one at that, and being an only child has always weighed on him though he does his best not to show it. Peter and Marlene have always been welcome here, and the three kids did grow up together, but, well, at the end of the day, they always had to go home. If you decide to call this place your home — which is your choice, we will never force you to stay if you find another home elsewhere, we will just be happy to have known you and loved you for as long as you are here — I promise, Cass, you will never be an intruder. You are always welcome here, and you will always be so very dear to us."

Words utterly failed me in that moment, and I merely turned to Effie and all but collapsed against her, choking out a sob. She hugged me back like her arms had always belonged around me, and for the first time in my life, I thought maybe I was beginning to understand what the concept of "mother's love" truly meant.

When James and Marlene returned inside, they found me sitting side-by-side with Effie, the clumsy fingers of my left hand trying to play the chords as Effie patiently played the first couple measures of the melody over and over and over and over and over again. A little at a time, we got closer to in sync. A little at a time, I hit more right notes. A little at a time, my transitions got smoother. A little at a time, I felt more like I belonged. A little at a time, I thought maybe everything would be okay after all.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

After playing Quidditch with Marlene for hours the day before, and after the week we'd all had, James was sound asleep when I woke up. I was glad to see it, because every other time I'd opened my eyes since arriving at the Potters, James had been awake. He assured me that he slept when I did, but I wasn't convinced, so I was glad to see him sleeping, and I crawled out of bed carefully so that he would continue sleeping.

I crept over to the trunk of James's old clothes and studied its contents, trying to put together an outfit. I had enjoyed wearing his clothes more than I cared to admit out loud, but there was one shirt in particular that I'd been eyeing since the beginning. It was nothing elaborate, just a white button-up shirt, yet it beckoned to me. It was far too masculine a shirt to ever have my parents' approval, but my parents weren't around to judge me or my tastes anymore. The shirt laid there in the trunk of clothes that were intended to be worn by me, so I reached for it that morning, feeling brave and oddly excited. I reached for a pair of denim shorts with red stars embroidered on the pockets to go with it, and disappeared into the bathroom to change, intentionally facing away from the mirror as I did so.

When I turned back around, I almost didn't recognize myself — and yet, it was like I was seeing myself for the first time.

The slightly-wrinkled shirt fit me perfectly, and I'd left the top button unbuttoned, meaning the necklace from Carter was in plain view. The light blue denim shorts were only mid-thigh on me, but high-waisted, meaning I could tuck my wand in easily and keep it mostly hidden from sight. I hadn't gotten the chance to brush my hair yet, but even in its somewhat-disheveled state, it framed my face in a way that was messy and, well, honest. I hated wearing my hair down, but I couldn't deny that, somehow, my hair looked nice like that. I loathed the way it felt against my neck, though, so I reached for a hairbrush — of which James had several, since his dad was a hair expert by trade — and dragged it through my hair, marveling once again at the magical detangling abilities it had. Once my hair was in a ponytail where it belonged, I stepped closer to the mirror and squinted at my face.

The scars had faded to almost nothingness and I had more freckles on my nose than I'd had in years, but that wasn't the clearest sign that something was different about me. No, in the morning light, I could see for the first time that my eyes had the smallest amount of sparkle again. I'd never loved my eyes, thinking they were somewhere in between green and grey and therefore not any real color at all, but something about the sunshine at Potter Manor seemed to make every color seem beautiful.

After splashing a bit of cold water on my face to wake up the rest of the way, I stole from James's room and crept downstairs, listening intently for signs that anyone else was awake. When I didn't hear anything, I made my way into the library. I'd been curious about what kinds of books filled magical home libraries, but James didn't have much interest in books, so I hadn't wanted to bother him by asking if he'd show me.

I had only just started perusing the shelves when the door opened behind me, making me jump as I turned to face whoever was entering the room. It was Fleamont, who looked almost as startled to see me as I was to see him as he glanced up from the open book that was floating in front of him.

"Oh! Good morning!" Fleamont said brightly, recovering his wits faster than I could gather mine. "Sorry for startling you!"

"It's alright," I replied. "I'm sorry for startling you. Good morning."

He waved off my apology and reached in front of him to close the floating book. "Are you looking for anything in particular, or just browsing?"

"I was just browsing. I've never been in a library in a magic house before. I was curious about what types of books would be in here."

"There are altogether too many about potions, I'm afraid," Fleamont replied with a sheepish grin, "but there are plenty of others as well. What subjects interest you?"

I considered his question for a moment, twirling my necklace in my fingers. "Honestly, I find everything about magic interesting. Parts of it are more challenging to understand than others, but I'm very fond of just about all of it. I've been warned away from Arithmancy, though."

"Ah, yes, Arithmancy is known for being exceptionally difficult. I'm sure you could rise to meet the challenge, but if you're not required to have an O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. in Arithmancy for your career, do yourself a favor and avoid it."

"I'll avoid Arithmancy by not taking an interest in any careers that require it," I replied.

Fleamont chuckled. "Very wise. Well, even if all subjects interest you in their own ways, surely there must be a specific topic or two that you find particularly fascinating. Perhaps we have books that could satisfy your curiosity. Or grow it, as is often the way with learning. Once you truly begin to explore a subject, you quickly realize how little you actually know."

"Hence why I try to be a good Gryffindor and keep my curiosity to a minimum," I said, smiling when Fleamont laughed again. "I must admit I've become rather captivated by a couple of subjects, though. For one, I'm rather intrigued by the grey area between human and being, when it comes to the world of magical classifications. Like vampires, goblins, house-elves, giants, werewolves."

"Ah, well, fortunately for you, James has always been fascinated by magical creatures," Fleamont remarked as he strode over to a low shelf. "He always preferred the hands-on approach to learning, so I'm afraid most of his books on the subject are relatively untouched, though I suppose one could easily argue that they've just been waiting for you."

"You think they'll be in those books?" I asked. "I thought everything I listed was more akin to humans than to anything else."

Fleamont offered me a sympathetic shrug. "I'm afraid the magical world fails to be progressive in many ways."

"Right. If wizardkind can't acknowledge that people like me are people deserving of the study of magic..."

"Unfortunately, you've stumbled upon the core of the issue," Fleamont replied with a wince. "Once Muggle-borns are free to live and practice magic without fear, as they've deserved all along, perhaps then the world will be more open to exploring the rights of other classifications of human and sub-human beings, but until then, I'm afraid their discussion is limited to books on magical creatures."

I frowned, thinking of Remus. "I understand. Well, no, I don't understand, but... I understand what you mean."

Fleamont nodded and turned his attention to the shelf, plucking a couple of books and creating a small stack on a nearby table.

"I think those would be a good place to start. James told us you enjoy reading? What kind of books do Muggles write?"

"Oh, all kinds," I replied. "Books about history and science, and books about stories that are entirely made up."

"Wizards have fairy tales too," Fleamont said with a nod. "Beedle the Bard is a particularly famous author of children's stories."

"Muggles write make-believe for adults too, actually. Fiction is for everyone. I always wanted to write one of those stories. I still do, in fact, but I suppose me being magic and needing to have a magical career complicates that a bit."

Fleamont shook his head. "Strictly speaking, you are under no obligation to pursue a career in the wizarding world! If you want to write a make-believe story, do it!"

"Really?" I asked. "But what about school? Wouldn't that just be a waste of my magical education?"

"It is true that almost everyone who graduates Hogwarts advances to a magical career, not everyone does. I had a Muggle-born classmate who decided he wanted to just live life as a Muggle. He enjoyed magic plenty, but he decided he wanted to be a — a — someone who works with Muggle cars?"

"A mechanic?" I guessed.

"Yes! A mechanic! He loved magic, but he loved Muggle cars more, so he went to work in a shop that helps fix Muggle cars. He kept in touch for a couple years, telling me all about how he used magic to make his everyday Muggle tasks easier and nothing more. He was very happy working on Muggle cars, and he married a Muggle wife, and a couple of his kids were Muggle and a couple were magic. You get to decide your path in life, Cass, and nothing that makes you happy should ever be considered a waste, nor should anything that you enjoyed in the past that no longer serves you. If you graduate from Hogwarts and decide you want to follow in my footsteps and become a potioneer and marry a beautiful witch who loves you very much, then you should do that! I'm very happy with my career and my family. But if you want to write a story and leave magic behind, then you should do that! Or perhaps you'll find a different path and blaze a new trail, one that walks between the worlds in a way that makes you happiest."

"Shades of grey," I said, thinking of what Effie had said the previous day. "It doesn't have to be black or white, Muggle or magic."

"Precisely! Now you've got the right idea," Fleamont replied. "Are there any other subjects that interest you that you think might be featured in any of these books? I'm afraid they're all quite factual, except for a small collection of the stories we read James as he was growing up, but you're welcome to acquaint yourself with wizarding fairy tales if you so desire."

I twirled my necklace, thinking, then stopped. "You know... I do have a question, actually. Carter said something when he was explaining the necklace that I didn't quite understand. He said that he didn't wake up until he heard my screams, but he said that it works like a Portkey, which I don't think can function in a way that would allow him to hear what was happening. Do you have any ideas what kind of magic would function like that? Like a telephone, or like a radio feed?"

Fleamont was silent for a long second, drumming his fingers against his jaw, looking lost in thought.

"Nothing is coming to mind," he said slowly as he walked over to a bookshelf across the room, "but you must understand, Cass, that I am not a very well-read man. Potions has always been and will always be my only area of expertise. I am quite sure that your friend Carter found a form of magical communication that is unfamiliar to me, which, truthfully, isn't saying much. I'm sure we could find something in one of these books that could offer a tentative explanation. This one, perhaps."

He grabbed one off of a shelf and added it to the stack of books.

"I know we've only just met, but I think you're failing to give yourself proper credit for another area of expertise," I said.

"Oh? What's that?"

"I think you're an expert when it comes to being a good father."

Fleamont smiled. "That's very kind of you, Cass, thank you. There's no such thing as an expert parent, though. There are, like you said, shades of grey. There are loving parents and unloving parents, warm and cold, strict and lenient, and, generally, parents just do the best they can to be who their child needs them to be."

"You're doing a better job than most other parents I've encountered," I said honestly.

"Well, I'd certainly hope I'm better than yours at least," Fleamont replied. "No offense meant to you. I do mean offense to your parents, though."

I grinned a little. "I'm quite certain they'd be offended."

"Good. That is a lovely necklace, by the way. Did you know that shirt you're wearing was one of my son's favorites until he outgrew it?"

"No, James didn't say anything. I didn't give him much of a chance, though, I slipped out while he was still asleep."

"That's understandable; it is still rather early. Is there a reason you're awake? Do I need to tweak the sleep potion recipe?"

I shook my head. "No, it's perfect. I enjoy waking up early. Why are you awake?"

"Because I enjoy waking up early as well, and because Saturday and Sunday morning meals are my responsibility." Fleamont smiled. "I enjoy tinkering in my apothecary before I begin breakfast, since the apothecary is not all that different from the kitchen, if you think about it."

"Oh, believe me, I know," I replied, blushing a bit. "I would offer to help with breakfast, but I'm afraid I'm not much use when it comes to brewing potions or preparing food. I would help you most by staying out of your way, I'm a lost cause."

Fleamont frowned. "And why do you think that?"

"My mom never lets — let me help in the kitchen, I made too many mistakes. And I suppose I do passably well in Potions, but I brew Potions rather slowly, because I'm so terrified of making mistakes that I double- and triple-check ingredients and instructions."

Fleamont's frown intensified. "Well, those are hardly acceptable reasons for saying you're a lost cause. Making 'too many' mistakes, especially as a beginner, is hardly a reason to think one's hopeless. I don't think 'too many' mistakes can exist, anyway, especially for children who will not know better until they're taught." He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Your parents were supposed to help you learn from your mistakes, not make you feel inferior for being imperfect, and I certainly hope Professor Slughorn and your peers in Potions class are not letting you develop the same attitude about Potions."

"They're not," I said, my face suddenly very hot. "They always say I'm doing well, it's just — I'm slower, and the potions that James and Carter and Sirius brew are often better, and — and I worry that they're just being overly nice and they actually think much less of me than they say — "

"First of all, my dear, James is a dreadful liar. You will always know exactly how he feels about you in any given moment."

I blinked. "Oh. I — really?"

"Yes. If he is kind to you, trust me when I say it's sincere."

"Oh. I am often kind to people when I don't really want to be. Not with you, though!" I added in a squeak. "I promise!"

Fleamont smiled. "Well, that's a relief. Don't worry, Cass, I understand. I am the same way, often treating people with more kindness than I think they deserve, but James and his mother are not like that. Their kindness must be earned. Second of all, I want to say that you are never obligated to 'earn your keep' here by helping, or anything like that, but please never hold yourself back from participating in our family for fear of making a mistake. Making mistakes is human, and it's the only way we grow, and I promise you are free to make as many mistakes as you can here. You know my son. Do you honestly think he's never made a mistake?"

I thought about it for a second, then shook my head, smiling a little.

"James is very gifted, I'll admit, but a great deal of his academic success is made possible because of his many, many, many failures, and the way we encouraged him to dust himself off, fix anything that was broken, and try again. So, third of all, I have a question for you. Would you like to help me make breakfast? Again, you are allowed to say no, you can stay here and read if you so desire, or you can go out and fly, or you can go back to bed, but if you'd like to bumble about the kitchen with me, you are invited to do so."

I nodded. "I'd like to try, as long as you don't expect too much of me. I once forgot an ingredient in a four-ingredient fudge."

"In that case, I will hand you the ingredients," Fleamont said with a kind smile.

"And I've never once cracked an egg without getting a little bit of shell in whatever I was making despite my best attempts to fish the little shell bit out," I added sheepishly.

"Fortunately for you, I reckon me casting 'accio eggshell' would easily resolve that. Come along now, I haven't made pancakes in a couple of weeks, and just between you and me, James prefers my pancakes to my wife's."

"I'm afraid today may be the exception to that," I muttered.

Fleamont put an arm around my shoulders as we left the library in the direction of the kitchen. "If I promise not to let you make any irreversible mistakes, do you promise to be kind to yourself throughout the learning process?"

"Alright," I said in a small voice. "Yeah, I can do that."

And so the two of us set to work making pancakes. Fleamont was patient and kind, carefully measuring out each ingredient for me to add to the bowl and going so far as to explain why he was adding each ingredient. We separated the plain batter into three separate bowls and added blueberries to one, chocolate chips to another, and left the third one plain.

We were almost ready to pour the first scoops of batter onto the griddle when the door burst open to reveal James, wide-eyed and panicked.

"Oh, Cass, there you are," he said. "Sorry I slept through you getting up — "

"It's okay," I interrupted. "Sorry if me being gone worried you."

James shook his head, panting. "It's okay. I was quite sure that nothing horrible had happened to you, we're safe here, but — I thought maybe just for a moment that maybe something had — "

"Cass was kind enough to help me with pancakes, James," Fleamont said. "You're just in time to help with the actual griddle part, actually. I know you always enjoy flipping the pancakes. Why don't you show Cass your trick for it while I fry up bacon, the smell of which will hopefully rouse your mother?"

"I'm glad you have a trick, because I can't flip pancakes, they always splatter, it's awful," I mumbled to James, who was reaching for a red spatula.

"The trick is in how you hold the spatula," James said. "I'll show you a couple of times, then you can try! Basically, if you flip with your fingers and not with your wrist, it won't splatter!"

"Really?" I asked in disbelief.

James grinned and nodded. "I'll show you!"

He did show me, and surely enough, the batter remained entirely intact. When I tried, it splattered only a little bit, but by the time we were ready to eat, I had gotten the trick down.

Surely enough, the smell of bacon summoned Effie, and the four of us enjoyed breakfast together. James started telling his parents about the year-long chess tournament Peter had with Frank, recapping the highlights of their 77 games with startling attention to detail. I'd been there for the tournament and in fact watched a handful of their games, so I let myself get a little lost in thought as he talked.

Fleamont had been right. I had just needed a little room to grow, a little encouragement, and a guiding hand along the way. I understood better than ever why James carried such natural confidence with him. He'd been raised to believe that no mistake was impossible to rectify, and that mistakes were in fact the very mechanism through which anyone learned how to do anything at all. I got the sense that I'd be rather fearless, too, if I'd been raised like James, and I got the sense that Effie and Fleamont had realized that about me too.

I was brought back to reality by the mention of my name.

"And then for the last game on the last night of term, when they'd each won 38 games, everyone watched, even Cass!" James said with a bright smile my direction. "She was curled up in the corner, though, she's not very fond of nights where the common room is loud, but she just couldn't miss the event of the year! Anyway, it was a thrilling match, truly the best of all 77 of their matches!"

I nodded. "It was funny. Every time someone made a move, the whole crowd would 'ooh' and 'aah' accordingly."

"Well, who won?" Fleamont asked, clearly enraptured by the story.

"Neither!" James burst out. "It was a stalemate! Everyone wanted another game, but Frank said that they'd both reached their peak chess skills and said they'd never be able to actually have a winner. That's not true, of course, and I think Pete wanted to play until they had a winner, but you know how he is, so he was okay with tying."

"I'm so proud of him for stepping outside his comfort zone!" Effie said. "April was worried he would be too shy to make new friends, even if he was sorted into a different house than you and Marlene."

"He's been very brave! He gets on best with Cass and Sirius."

"Me?" I asked, blinking.

"Well, yes, of course!" James said as he turned to me with a confused expression on his face. "I thought you enjoyed his company."

"I do! I just didn't realize he felt the same way," I replied, blushing. "He's... you know... shy."

James nodded slowly. His eyes were even wider than usual as he stared at me. "Around you, maybe, but he stopped being shy with me years ago. Pete's always spoken very fondly of you to me. Says you're the only Gryffindor that makes him feel like he belongs, a lot of the time, because you're quiet too but you're still brave."

"Oh. I didn't realize." I blushed harder. "I'm glad I make him feel that way. When does he get home from his family vacation again?"

"A couple days before we go back to school! Hey, wait a second, you two can write letters now! I'm sure he'd love to hear from you! Well — he'd be very sorry to hear about why he's hearing from you, of course, but I'm sure he'd love to write you!"

So, after breakfast, I found myself seated at the desk in the library, pen in hand, blank page in front of me, at something of a loss for words. James told me Lily had written Peter a letter too and that James had sent a quick follow-up letter saying I was alright, but I still didn't know what to say. I'd barely managed to say anything out loud to all of the friends I'd already seen. What could I say to Peter?

The page remained blank. Putting anything in writing would have made it feel too real. Spoken words, those were intangible, those were just sound vibrations thrown out into the world waiting for ears to fall on. Spoken words held the same power as written words, certainly, but they didn't have the same longevity. Written words... they lasted forever, as long as they didn't come into contact with flame. Spoken words were subject to the whims of memory and on-the-fly interpretation, not meant to be studied. So the page remained blank.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

I spent the next couple of weeks stuttering and stumbling along in an attempt to find a rhythm in the new life in which I found myself.

Fortunately, I had my friends to help me acclimate. They'd been there for me the whole year prior, when I was still trying to wrap my head around the concept of being magical and attending a magical school, and those friends showed up for me again as I tried to get used to living in a magical house with a magical family that I thought one day soon I'd start calling my magical home.

Lily visited often; she invited me to her house as well, but I was hesitant to leave the magical protection of Potter Manor, so she came to "rescue" me from James every few days. When she visited, we often kept ourselves busy in the library, either reading books of our own in silence, or abandoning our books in favor of talking. She told me all about her struggles with her sister over summer, and she talked about the time she'd gotten to spend with Severus too. I didn't feel much like talking about my summer prior to my desperate flight to England, so I was perfectly content to be a listening ear for Lily, who couldn't talk to Petunia about Severus and who couldn't talk to Severus about Petunia. Lily gifted me her copy of Little Women about a week before school resumed, saying she'd read it once and enjoyed it but once was enough because of how long it was. She thought I'd enjoy it more than she did, since I was American and had no sisters of my own. I did enjoy it, immensely — I finished the book in two days.

Remus visited, too, to either read with me or listen to music together, though he stopped visiting as the full moon approached. Our excuse to James was that he had family visiting and was thus rather busy. He wrote me a letter the morning after the full moon saying his family was gone and he was alright but he was going to take it easy for a couple of days while he waited for his social battery to recharge — meaning the moon was over and he was okay, just tired and taking advantage of the opportunity to rest since he didn't have to worry about classes — so I knew I wouldn't see or hear from him again until Peter's birthday party, most likely.

I learned that Mary was attending a summer program for young flutists, so she was unable to come visit me, but she started sending me letters when she could. I replied to the best of my ability, dancing around the topic of why I was living with James and therefore able to write letters all of a sudden. My letter to Peter remained unwritten, and I didn't receive any from Peter even though James told him I was suddenly able to write and receive letters, but I talked to Mary a bit about my ongoing guitar and piano lessons, and I was able to get a few of my music theory questions answered.

Marlene visited almost every day for a few hours, and whenever she was around, the three of us played Quidditch. Once I was brave enough to get up into the sky again, I found it hard to stop flying. I loved Quidditch, and the three of us had high hopes of becoming the three Chasers to replace the trio that had just graduated. We trained hard, and we hoped our efforts would pay off during tryouts.

Through it all, James was my rock. His parents, too, but while I was still trying to warm up to the idea of parental figures who could possibly love me, I knew James already loved me through and through, and I found a great deal of comfort in that.

We continued sharing a bed, which proved to be a comfort to both of us. As I weaned off of the various sleep potions, before I could become overly dependent, I had more nightmares and slept more fitfully, but James was always there to comfort me and help me fall back asleep. He slept better, too, knowing I was right beside him and would (accidentally) wake him up if something happened and I needed him. He confessed late one night that he often shared a bed with Sirius when we were at school, for similar reasons, and he always slept better knowing he was accessible if his friends needed him. He confessed, too, that he had been dreadfully worried about Sirius and me while we were so far away, and while he was still worried about Sirius, he was glad he could keep at least one of us company throughout the night.

The talk about Sirius inspired me, so the following day, I talked to James about the possibility of magic existing that could function like a Muggle telephone. I didn't explain anything about how Carter had apparently stumbled upon it already and I was just trying to reverse-engineer the magic of the necklace around my neck, but the mere thought of being able to stay in constant contact with Sirius was enough to motivate James to hunt for whatever that magic could be. That was how we discovered two-way mirrors, and James and I set to work trying to find out how to make our own so we could stay in touch with Sirius and Carter, respectively, over the holidays that they spent at home.

I was beginning to suspect, though, that the charm of my necklace wasn't a gem after all, but instead a cleverly-disguised two-way mirror, so when the fifteenth of August rolled around, I retreated to the far corner of the Potters' property early in the morning and shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CARTER!" as loud as I could, in the hopes that my theory was right and he would somehow hear it. Even if I was wrong, I hoped that I shouted loud enough that he'd hear it anyway.

Since I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep that day, I decided to wander around the grounds, and James joined me after a while. We walked around the garden a bit, and I told James all about The Secret Garden, and that conversation made him want to start a secret garden of his own, so the two of us set to work, wandering the Potter property in search of a quiet nook that we could turn into our own little sanctuary. We found it in the form of a grassy patch beneath a weeping willow, and we set to work digging little holes in the grass where we could plant flower seeds. We stayed outside until the sun started to set, and the two of us talked eagerly about our plan during dinner that night. Effie offered to show us how to harvest seeds from the flowers that already existed in the garden, and Fleamont offered to help us brew a Growth Potion that we could use to bring our garden to life as fast as possible.

In addition to the secret garden project and the continued Quidditch training with Marlene, I kept myself busy by keeping up with my guitar lessons with James and my piano lessons with Effie. Fleamont, feeling excluded, decided he wanted to teach me how to perfect at least something kitchen-related before I went back to school, so a couple days a week, I'd join him for cooking, or baking, until I found a recipe that I really enjoyed and wanted to learn. I ended up really enjoying the Potter family recipe for mac and cheese — which I learned was called "macaroni cheese" by the British — so I set to work trying to learn that. In exchange, I taught James how to braid my hair, which was apparently something he'd always wanted to learn, and I introduced all three Potters to my Walkman and the music it could play, the music I loved so dearly.

One step at a time, I started to get my feet beneath me again, keeping busy enough not to dwell too much on the past nor think too far into the future. I was still very much grieving all I had lost, and I tended to cry at least once a day, at the end of the day, when the sun had set and I was too tired for any distraction to hold my attention, in the minutes between getting in bed and falling asleep, but living in such a different world surrounded by so many loving people helped me keep my head above water.

In a manner of speaking.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

Before I knew it, the start of school was a couple of days away, and it was time to head to Diagon Alley for supplies. Fleamont had work, so Effie went with the two of us to Diagon Alley. We planned to make a day of it, Floo-ing to Diagon Alley, getting supplies, then finishing the day in Muggle London, where Fleamont would meet us once he got off work. Since I had experience, both with being a Muggle and with being in London, James thought it would be fun if the three of us wandered around a bit so I could give the three pure-bloods a small glimpse into what Muggle life was really like. I thought it would be rather amusing, so I agreed.

I was just walking out of Flourish and Blotts behind James, our once-empty bookbags suddenly much heavier, when a shout could be heard over the general hum of the busy street.

"YES!"

I barely even had time to register what was happening before Sirius Black was sprinting full-force in our direction, arms thrown wide, massive smile on his face.

"MATE!" James cried, rushing forward to hug Sirius.

I shuffled off to the side when the boys collided, happy to see Sirius but not sure if I would survive an encounter with him in such an excited state. I was only just getting used to living with James; James and Sirius together was a whole different story.

When they broke apart, James and Sirius both began to talk in the way only they could, voices overlapping, loud as could be, yet somehow still perfectly understanding each other, utterly oblivious to everything and everyone else. One glance at Effie confirmed that she was just as amused as I was, her eyes warm as she watched her son interact so lovingly with his best friend.

I'd been standing off to the side for only a couple of seconds when someone came to stand beside me.

It was Regulus. I could just tell. He looked a lot like Sirius, with the same grey eyes and the same dark hair and the same effortlessly proud square of his shoulders. There were differences too, though. Regulus was shorter, and thinner, and there was a distinct longing expression on his face that I'd never seen Sirius wear. Sirius always just chased after what he wanted, he was in too much of a hurry to ever long for something properly before he'd gone and acquired it. Regulus, on the other hand, remained statue-still as he watched his brother talk to James, his face perfectly neutral except for his eyes, which conveyed just how desperately he wanted to be a part of the scene before us.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Regulus beat me to it.

"Are they always like that?" he asked without looking at me.

"Yeah, they're always like that," I confirmed.

"Merlin. They're loud."

I cracked a grin. "Why do you think I'm all the way over here?"

"I respect that." Regulus turned to me then and extended a hand. "I'm Regulus, of the Noble House of Black."

"I'm Cass," I said, returning his handshake.

Regulus's eyes widened. "Oh, you're... you're..."

"A Mudblood?" I finished for him.

Regulus hesitated, a bit of color rushing to his pale cheeks.

"It's okay," I said softly, feeling a bit stung but trying not to show it because I felt sympathy for him, more so than whatever I was feeling personally as a result of his apparent shock that he'd touched someone like me. He was just a boy. Blood supremacy was all he'd ever known, at least until Sirius returned for the summer. "You don't have to keep talking to me if you'd rather not."

"I don't do anything I don't want to do," he snapped. He blinked at me. Calculating. "You're... more tolerable than I imagined."

"Thanks. I think."

Before either of us could say anything else, I became suddenly aware of someone else who was watching James and Sirius — a house-elf, the first I'd ever seen with my own eyes.

"Master Regulus, you really mustn't be seen talking to a Mudblood!" the house-elf croaked. "Master Black — "

" — will not be hearing about this, Kreacher," Regulus said.

Kreacher bowed low. "Yes, Master Regulus."

When I didn't say anything for a second, Regulus turned to me.

"Have you never seen a house-elf before?"

I shook my head.

"Kreacher has been a great friend to me in my brother's absence," Regulus said, his voice brittle.

"Your brother speaks very highly of you," I replied.

Regulus blinked. "Really?"

"Really," I said.

Emotions flickered through Regulus's eyes in rapid succession. He bit his lip for a second as he searched me. He must have decided I was alright, because his voice was rather soft when he spoke again, rather than the cold, calculated clip he'd been using just moments prior.

"I didn't get the sense he missed me very much. Ever since he got back from school, it's been James this, James that, Remus this, Remus that, Cass this, Cass that, Peter this, Peter that, Carter this, Carter that, and so forth and so on. He only ever talks about Carter in the presence of our parents, but he tells me all about you Gryffindors when we're alone."

"Well, at school, he always talked to me about you, Regulus. He mentioned you in the first conversation the two of us ever had. He told me you're a gifted wizard's chess player."

"He said that?" Regulus asked in a tone that suggested that, of everything I'd said, was the most surprising detail yet.

I nodded. "Yes. If you'd like to play with me at school sometime, James said I could have his chess board. He told me he doesn't have the right... disposition for wizard's chess. I'm not sure if it's a compliment or an insult that he seems to think I do."

"Compliment," Regulus replied without a second of hesitation. "Absolutely a compliment."

"Noted," I said, smiling. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Regulus of the Noble House of Black."

"It's been nice meeting you too, Cass... do you have a last name?"

"Williams. But I prefer just Cass." I shrugged. "The house of Williams is far from noble. Rather awful, actually."

"Right." Regulus stared at me for a long moment. I thought maybe for a moment that he'd smile, but before he could, he turned away from me abruptly. "Oi! Sirius! We've got shopping to do! Mum and Dad won't be happy if we're spotted associating with blood traitors and Mud..." Regulus stopped, looked at me for a split second, then glanced back at his brother. "Muggle-borns."

"You go ahead, then, with Kreacher, keep yourself out of trouble. I'll find you later, I want to catch up with my friends." Sirius looked at me and blinked, as if he had only just realized I was there. "CASS!"

There was no escape that time, so I merely planted my feet and prayed as Sirius Black crashed into me. He held tight, rocking me back and forth and planting a dramatic kiss on my temple as he pulled away.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius asked.

"She's here with me," James said.

"I didn't think I'd get to see you until Friday! Not that I'd ever complain about seeing your lovely face, of course," Sirius added.

"Oh, shut up," I replied as my face heated, no real bite to my words. "Anyway, Regulus is right, the two of you should go continue your shopping. We can catch up properly on the train."

Sirius pouted. "Aw, why so eager to get rid of me, my dearest, sweetest, darlingest Cass?"

"That's not a word," Regulus muttered next to me.

"Bold of you to assume he cares," I muttered back. "I don't think any of his favorite words can be found in the dictionary."

Regulus smiled, just a bit, as Sirius pressed a hand to his chest.

"You wound me! We spend an entire summer tragically separated, and this is how you greet me? With mockery and insults? And to think! I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Sirius," I said with a smile.

"She's just worried about your parents," James piped up, throwing an arm around Sirius's shoulders. "She's... well, she just doesn't want you getting in trouble with your parents because you were seen with us."

"Well, I don't care," Sirius replied. "Regulus can shop with Kreacher if he'd like, they'd be perfectly alright, but I've missed you both terribly and want to hear about everything I've missed!"

"No, you really don't," I said with a heavy sigh. I bit my lip for a second. "Have you spoken to Carter recently?"

Sirius nodded. "He's here with our parents. They sent us off with Kreacher to get the books for all three of us while they went with Carter to Knockturn Alley for something."

Before I could even think of a reply, James was speaking.

"Isn't that a dodgy place? What does Carter need from there?"

"Merlin knows," Sirius replied with a shrug.

"And why's he more important than you two?" James continued. "Not that I'm complaining about the chance to see you, mate, but I happen to think parents ought to stick with their children — " James stopped talking abruptly and looked at me with wide, horrified eyes. "Wait, Cass, I'm sorry — "

Sirius blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face as he spoke. "Where are your — wait, why are you here with James? Did you run away?"

"No, not — not exactly," I whispered. I swallowed hard. "It's a long story."

"And our parents will come looking for us any minute now," Regulus said, looking back and forth nervously. "Sirius, please."

"Go with your brother," I said to Sirius. "Find me on Friday. I'll explain everything then. I promise."

Sirius looked put out, but he never argued with me, so he just nodded. "Alright." He hugged me again, then James. "I'm so glad we got to see you, even just for a little bit. If I can get away from my parents again, I'll come find you. Where do you still have to go?"

"Only a couple more shops, then we're going to be in Muggle London," James replied. "I reckon we're going to be in the Quidditch shop for a while, though, and we can linger if there's even a slight chance you're coming, so..."

"I'll meet you there," Sirius said, grinning. "Come on, Reg, let's go get our books!"

"Sirius Black, I have never once heard you sound so cheerful about the prospect of reading," I asserted.

"I take it he gives you a hard time for enjoying it, too?" Regulus asked, the shadow of a smile once again on his face.

I nodded. "He does."

"You're definitely more tolerable than I imagined you'd be," Regulus told me as his true smile finally broke free.

With that, the Black brothers and Kreacher headed into the bookstore, and Effie walked over to the two of us.

"What lovely boys!" she said warmly. "Where should we head next?"

Three stores later, we finally reached the Quidditch shop. It was my first time inside, since I hadn't known about Quidditch a year ago when I'd been there with my grandparents, so James insisted upon giving me a grand tour. At least, he did, until he got distracted by a new brand of Golden Snitch and rushed to the other side of the store to investigate it. I watched him go, smiling and shaking my head, and turned toward the Chaser gloves on display next to me. I was distracted less than a minute later by a joyous shout, and I turned to see that Sirius had found James, and the two boys were once again talking a mile a minute at each other.

"I'm so glad my best friend is the only sane Gryffindor," a dry voice remarked from behind me.

I turned to see Carter hiding in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest, Ivy hovering behind him.

I looked back and forth to make sure the coast was clear, then realized I didn't know what Mr. and Mrs. Black looked like.

"They're with Regulus getting his wand," Carter said. "We have a couple minutes to ourselves before they realize we're not in Madam Malkin's."

I rushed to him then and hugged him tight, and he hugged me back with equal, if not even more, intensity.

"Tell me everything, please, now, while we're here," I begged. I cleared my throat and, in my best attempt at Parseltongue, said, "Hi, Ivy."

I'd learned enough Parseltongue to understand her answering "Hi, Cass!"

Carter gently grabbed my chin and inspected my face. "Those healed nicely. How have you been sleeping?"

"Alright, I guess. Potions help. James helps. His parents are..."

"Nothing like yours?" Carter finished for me with a crooked grin.

I nodded. "Yeah. That." I twisted the charm of the necklace around my fingers. "So? Two-way mirror?"

"Ah, figured it out, did you?" Carter asked, looking proud.

"It was a lucky guess after quite a bit of research," I replied with a shrug.

"Good guess. I charmed it so it would only start picking up sound and transmit it to me if you were afraid, and then I adjusted the spell because I didn't realize just how often you're afraid. I adjusted it so it would transmit volume proportional to how scared you were, thinking it would then differentiate between, say, the anxiety you feel before an exam and the anxiety you'd feel when your life was in danger, but that didn't work either, because you're very consistently terrified."

At that point, my face was so hot I thought it would melt off. "I never told you I was a good Gryffindor."

Carter blinked incredulously. "What do you mean? You're the best Gryffindor. You constantly have the same anxiety levels as prey being hunted by its predator, and you still show up and do what you need to do. Anyway, one day, you almost fell off your broom and you shouted, so I assumed that was a fairly strong indicator that you'd be loud if you were ever in a dangerous situation, so I charmed it so it would only alert me if you were both afraid and being loud, and right before I went home, since I knew we'd be in such different time zones, I added the charm that would make it burn me if you..." He cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "Anyway, that's how I did it."

"How did you know where I was?" I asked.

"Bastardized Portkey magic."

"And, wait, back up, what kind of magic detects fear? I thought magic was just for, like, brewing potions and changing objects into other objects and fighting people and healing people. Since when does emotional magic exist?"

"Has no one ever told you about patronuses?"

I shook my head. "What are those?"

"They're — like — happiness personified, I don't know, my father never — for obvious reasons, they've never been a huge focal point in my magical education. But emotional magic exists, and you have a lot of it, so I used it to my — no, our advantage."

"Did the burn heal?"

"Cass." Carter grinned exasperatedly. "Yes, the tiny burn that was the size of the tiny gem healed the second I put half of a fingertip's worth of burn cream on it."

"And your dad didn't find out?"

"No."

"And you've been okay?"

"Yes. You worry too much."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I'm not the one who gave their best friend a magical teleportation necklace that activates at every sign of trouble."

"Yes, well, that worry was warranted." Carter's eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth. "Shit, sorry, I shouldn't have said that, the words left my mouth before I could process. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said, waving his concern off despite the wave of sorrow that crashed over me. "You're right, at any rate. I'd very likely be dead without it."

"I'm glad you're not. I'm sorry about — "

"It's okay," I said again.

Carter studied me for a long second. "I'm sure the Potters have been making sure you're getting enough food and sleep and I'm sure James in particular has been smothering you, but are you okay? Actually?"

I hesitated, then shrugged.

Carter studied me for another long second. "I appreciate the honesty. I wish I — well, honestly, I have no idea what to say or do to make you feel better, but, well, I'm glad you're alive and safe and I'd appreciate it very much if you stayed that way. You matter to me, in case you didn't notice."

"I know," I whispered. "I love you too."

Carter opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the doors opened, and he peeked out from behind the display to see who it was.

"Fuck, that was faster than I expected, I need to go, sorry, you should hide, don't let the Blacks see you alone, go find Effie or hide until they're gone." He hugged me quickly. "See you Friday."

With that, he walked past me back into view of the rest of the store, and I looked frantically around for Effie. When I didn't see her, I assessed the situation. It wasn't hard to identify Mr. and Mrs. Black — all of the Blacks looked remarkably alike. They were still hovering in front of the door, talking to Carter, who I could tell was trying to steer them away from me, but they weren't budging. I had no way out. They didn't see me, thankfully, from where I was standing, but Regulus did.

We locked eyes.

Regulus glanced over his shoulder, then back at me meaningfully, and I saw his predicament.

Sirius was on the other side of the story, talking to James.

Carter was trying to keep their attention long enough to give Sirius time to notice the situation and break away from James, but he was lost in his own little world with James, oblivious. Whenever the attention shifted from Carter, they'd turn either left or right, seeing either a Mudblood by herself or their son talking to a blood traitor.

Regulus looked paralyzed by indecision, so I made it for him, hurrying to the farthest corner of the store and standing with my back to the Black parents, hoping and praying there was a good little pure-blood girl who happened to enjoy wearing Muggle clothes and keeping her honey-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail. Most pure-bloods were sensible enough to wear Muggle clothes, robes were considered more formal, for school or work or big events, but the most pretentious pure-bloods wore robes exclusively.

I listened as Regulus commented loudly on the display of Seeker gloves, just across from the Chaser gloves, and I let out a small sigh of relief when James and Sirius went silent. I reached for what was directly in front of me — the newest edition of Seeker Weekly — and pretended to flip through it, keeping my head low. I was just beginning to think I was in the clear when I was jerked from my thoughts by a carrying remark.

"I can't believe even the Mudbloods are getting into Quidditch now. How a mighty magical sport has fallen."

I immediately put the magazine back and tried to make a run for the door, knowing I was caught, but a strong hand wrapped around my upper arm.

"Go back to your primitive world," Mr. Black snarled as he tried to throw me to the ground.

Instead, I held on tight to his arm, wrapping my own arms around his, and I kicked him hard in the leg, bringing him down with me. Once we hit the ground, I was able to wriggle away and get to my feet, breathing hard as I glared down at him.

"For the record, Muggles don't want me either," I said, "and you look ridiculous."

Mrs. Black shrieked and tried to swing on me, but Carter caught her by the wrist while Ivy used her teeth to pluck the wand from Mrs. Black's pocket without her noticing.

"Your family is going to be embarrassed enough to see their patriarch brought to the ground by a little girl," Carter said. I knew him well enough to hear the mingled pride, anger, and amusement, in that order, in his voice despite his remarkably straight face. "I can't imagine my father would be terribly pleased to hear that both of you were attacked by someone like her while I was with you, and that you both lost."

In those couple of seconds, Effie and James both rushed to me, Effie standing in front of me while James tugged me back out of the way. Effie drew her wand and pointed it in the general direction of the family. I watched her, thunderstruck, from where I stood with James behind her.

"If you dare to hurt that sweet girl, it could very well be the last thing you ever do," she said, her voice angrier than I'd ever heard it. "She has just as much of a right to be a part of this world as you do. James, take her out of here, please."

James found my hand with his own and led me out of the store, bringing me to a nearby bench and sitting down next to me. Effie followed mere seconds later, crouching in front of me.

She gripped my hands in her own. "I'm so sorry about that, sweet girl, are you alright?"

"Yeah," I said, my shaking voice giving me away. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, please, I'm sorry I didn't realize what was going on," Effie said. "You had it remarkably well-sorted, but you're just a child. You shouldn't have to fight battles like that, especially not against adults. Now, do you want to visit any more shops here, or to back to the manor, or would you still like to spend time in Muggle London?"

"Muggle London sounds good to me," I replied. I was trying so hard to be brave.

James remained pressed to my side as if glued as we made our way to the Leaky Cauldron and passed through it into the Muggle world. All three of us were in Muggle clothes, so we blended in well, except for the wide-eyed way James looked at everything. I hoped people would just assume he was a tourist, though, and led the way down the crowded street as best I could.

In time, we reached a particularly dense crowd of people, all gathered around a shop window that featured over a dozen different TVs with the news on.

"What's going on?" James asked loudly. "What's everyone staring at?"

"It's those poor American children again," a man replied without looking away from the TV.

My blood ran cold as I looked at the TVs to read for myself.

Each of the TVs had the same picture of a too-familiar shore, with the same headline: BODY OF BRADLEY WILLIAMS DISCOVERED — SEARCH FOR SISTER CONTINUES.

I staggered backward, feeling the cold water on my skin all over again, no air to breathe, where was my wand, where was Bradley, where was I —

James was saying something, but I couldn't hear it, and Effie was ushering me away, and then we were in an alley, and then the world went dark and then it was bright again, and we were back in the meadow, and I fell to my knees and lost all of the contents of my stomach into the grass, and then the sick vanished before my eyes, and then we were in the kitchen, and I was sitting at the table next to James with a cold glass of water in my hand.

"Drink up," he said softly. "Mum went to fetch you something from Dad's stores. The water should help in the meantime."

I obediently sipped the water, trying to focus on the fact that the water was only in the cup, not around me, I wasn't going to drown, I was okay, I was alive, Carter was glad I was alive and wanted me to stay that way. I blinked and Effie was there, handing me a goblet of blue potion. I obediently sipped that too, and once I was halfway done, I realized they were both staring at me expectantly.

"How are you feeling?" Effie asked.

"Um... about the same," I replied. "Why?"

James furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "That's a Calming Draught. Maybe Dad brewed it wrong? Maybe — no — Dad's such a good potioneer — " James reached forward and took a sip, then instantly relaxed. "Oh. It does work. Just not on you, apparently, Cass, sorry."

"It's okay," I said. "Thank you for trying. Sorry for — "

"Don't apologize," James interrupted.

"You've had quite the day, and apparating like that was far from ideal," Effie said.

I blinked. I hadn't even realized that was what had happened.

"I just wanted to get you out of there before you were recognized or swarmed or both," Effie explained. "You're safe here. It's alright."

I nodded and sipped more water, still feeling terribly lightheaded. My vision tunneled, and I rested my head down on the table in an attempt to not fall out of the chair entirely. Effie and James, in unison, reached out to rub my back, and I didn't lift my head again for a very long time, as sobs wracked my body and the world around me crashed right back down.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

I had no choice but to start trying to build it right back up again, because as soon as the next day dawned, we had a task at hand that was both fun and of the utmost importance: Peter Pettigrew's birthday party.

Since the Pettigrews had only just returned from their holiday, the Potters offered to host the birthday party at the manor, so the next two days were a whirlwind of party preparation as we all worked together to try to make his party as perfect as possible. James worked on decorations while Fleamont worked on the food and Effie orchestrated the rest. I bounced from person to person and helped with a little bit of everything. I helped James hang streamers and banners and figure out where to place various drawings and paintings on the walls, I helped Fleamont with the birthday cake and the handful of appetizers that could be prepared in advance, and I helped Effie send out invitations to all of Peter's friends and their families.

It was to be a rather large affair, since everyone's parents and siblings were invited as well, so on the morning of the party, we all got up early to work together, all four of us, running around still in our pajamas, to make sure there was enough food for everyone. We finished the preparations with only twenty minutes to spare, so I raced back upstairs with James and tried to figure out what to wear.

I'd gotten new robes and a couple new outfits in Diagon Alley, but I'd been rather enjoying the clothes borrowed from James. Effie had asked me about it, and pressed about it, assuming that I was just trying to avoid being an inconvenience or a burden by telling her that I actually wanted more feminine clothes of my own. I managed to convincingly stammer out that I was being perfectly sincere, that I'd been more comfortable in the clothes that had once belonged to James than in anything my parents had ever let me wear, and Effie thankfully understood what I left unsaid and didn't ask about more feminine clothes again. Since I knew I'd be consigned to a fate of once again wearing skirts under my robes for several hours a day, five days a week, for the upcoming school year, I seized advantage of my last chance to dress how I truly wanted on a weekday and donned a pair of dark jeans and a white button-up shirt, tugging on the worn yellow sneakers I'd left by mistake in my school trunk.

"Cass, can I braid your hair?" James asked. "If you'd rather wear it in a different style, that's okay! But can I?"

"Of course, James, I think you've gotten good enough at it that you'd do a good job," I replied. I dutifully sat cross-legged on the ground while James knelt behind me and undid my ponytail. "Remember to make the braids tight, I promise I'll tell you if it hurts."

"I just feel bad tugging on your hair like that," he said.

"Loose braids make me feel strange. Don't be afraid to make it nice and tight. My hair tends to fall out of braids anyway, the tighter it starts, the longer it lasts. Within reason, of course."

"Loose braids make you feel strange how?" James inquired.

I shrugged. "Having my hair loose in general just feels... wrong. I prefer having it a little too tight to a little too loose. I don't know why."

"We can unpack that."

"I'd rather not right now."

"Fair enough." James started pulling my hair into one braid down my back, tight but not too tight. "I can't imagine having my hair restrained. That sounds suffocating."

"I can't imagine your hair ever being restrained," I retorted. "It has a mind of its own."

"You should have seen it a couple years ago. It used to be even more unruly. Before I learned how to take care of it properly, it was a right mess, let me tell you."

I grinned. "Noted."

"I have a leftover ribbon from wrapping gifts, do you want me to use it to tie off the braid? It's red and gold."

"Everything about today is red and gold, so I might as well be too," I replied.

James hummed in agreement as he tied off the braid with an elastic first, then tied the ribbon into a bow. He tossed the braid over my shoulder for inspection.

"I love it, thank you," I said. "Well, I guess it's time to party!"

Peter and his family, of course, arrived first, in a flurry of activity, and I was blown away by just how many younger siblings he had and just how much ruckus they made trying to talk to us and each other all at once. Lily's family arrived next, then Remus and his mum, then Mary and her dad, then Marlene and her parents and her oldest sister. I was introduced to every last person, introductions and birthday wishes shouted over the ever-increasing volume in the entryway, and when baby Posie started crying, I immediately offered to take her to the room with the piano, where it was quieter. Peter's mum, April, passed off her wailing daughter with no shortage of gratitude and turned her attention to another one of her daughters, who was tugging so hard on her shirt it looked as if it was about to tear in two.

I slipped away from the mass of people without anyone else noticing me, and I bounced Posie up and down as I walked through the house to the sitting room that had the piano.

"Oh, I know, Posie, I know," I murmured soothingly. "It was loud and overwhelming, huh? Shhh, it's alright, it's going to be quiet now."

I ducked inside the room with the piano and closed the door most of the way, bouncing Posie up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down as I tried to calm her. She quieted a little at a time, her screams diminishing to sobs and then whimpers and then silence.

"Good job, Posie," I said, adjusting her little bonnet over her wispy blonde hair. "You calmed down a lot faster than I did a couple days ago. Goodness, we all thought I'd never stop crying. I didn't know it was possible to cry that much. You're doing a lot better than me, and you're just a baby. I'm twelve!"

Posie just stared at me, unimpressed.

"I know, I know, I'm boring you, aren't I?" I moved my finger in a wide circle around her face, spiraling inward and getting closer until the tip of my finger touched her nose. "Boop!"

Posie blinked, looking startled for a moment, then smiled.

I mirrored her smile and did the same thing. "It's gonna get you... boop!"

Posie smiled wider, and the two of us played that little game for about two minutes before she started looking unimpressed again, so I made my way over to the piano and sat down, holding her on my lap with my right hand while I gently played chords with my left hand. Posie, naturally, started banging on the keys, and I kept up my chordal accompaniment as best I could.

"What you doing?" a little voice asked from behind me.

I swiveled my head to see who the newcomer was.

"Hi, Paul," I said to the boy, who looked to be no more than three years old, most likely closer to two and a half or so. "I'm playing the piano with Posie. Would you like to join us?"

"I play better."

With that, he started waddling over to us, head held high. He climbed onto the piano bench next to me, and started slamming on the keys, with only slightly more precision than Posie. Posie then followed her brother's lead and started slamming the keys as well, until I interrupted.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's be gentle," I said with a laugh, catching Paul's hands with my left hand and Posie's with my right. "Gentle. Like this."

I released Paul's hand and slowly played the opening chords of "Clair de Lune," which I'd memorized at that point.

Paul nodded. "Pretty. My turn."

He reached forward and pressed down more gently on the keys. He wasn't playing chords, of course, so it still sounded dissonant, but at least it was soft and dissonant and not loud and dissonant. Until Posie squirmed free, anyway, and started attacking the keys again, which prompted Paul to follow suit, giggling maniacally.

I sighed and pulled the kids' hands away again, and repeated my lesson in gentleness, keeping a tighter grip on Posie that time. Paul was more receptive the second time.

"Yours is more pretty," he said with a frown.

"I think it's because my hands are bigger," I replied sympathetically. "See, my fingers can stretch to play notes that sound good together." I played a Bb major chord to demonstrate. "I think your hands are too little for that. I can teach you something else cool, though!"

Paul watched with wide eyes as I played a C major scale.

"Do you want to learn that?" I asked. "I think your hands are big enough to play one note at a time."

Paul nodded enthusiastically, so I instructed him to hold out his pointer finger, and I gently moved his little hand through each of the notes, saying each out loud.

"C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C," I said.

Paul frowned. "No P? P for Paul?"

"No P, I'm sorry," I replied, trying not to laugh. "Music only has notes that go up to G. Do you know the alphabet, Paul?"

"Yeah! Peter teached me over summer!"

"Peter's a good big brother. I'm glad he taught you the alphabet. Did he teach you the alphabet song?"

"Alphabet song?" Paul repeated with confusion.

I bit my lip. Oh, I've done it now. Now I'm going to have to sing it. I cleared my throat and smiled at the little boy. "When I learned the alphabet, I learned it with a song. I think I know how to play it on piano, if I go slowly."

With a heavy sigh, I switched to holding Posie with my left hand and pecked out "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" with my right hand, singing the alphabet song along with it.

"A, B, C, D, E, F, G. H, I, J, K, L-M-N-O-P. Q, R, S. T, U, V. W, X. Y, and Z. Now I know my ABCs, next time won't you sing with me?"

"Again!" Paul exclaimed with a giggle. "Alphabet song, again!"

I was never one to deny a small child anything, so I obliged, singing the alphabet song again, and then again. Paul started playing his own accompaniment on the fourth repetition of the song, and at the end of the fifth, there was a boisterous round of applause from the door.

My face seemingly caught fire as I turned around to see who had found me in my hiding place. Peter was standing in the doorway, still clapping and smiling.

"Oh, piss off," I mumbled. "I know I can't sing, I didn't realize anyone over the age of three was listening — "

"I was being sincere. And you can carry a tune, which is more than I can do, so I think you're a perfectly decent singer," Peter replied.

"Thanks. So what brings you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he said. "And... it's really bloody loud in the kitchen right now."

I smiled, still blushing. "Well, welcome, it's far more manageable in here."

"Peter!" Paul burst out. "Peter, the girl is teaching me the alphabet song!"

"Her name is Cass, and that's nice," Peter said. "Paul, why don't you run along and find Mummy? I need to talk to Cass."

"But, Peter, the alphabet song!"

Peter crossed the room and crouched down to Paul's eye level. "You know, if you go find Mummy right now, you can see the birthday cake."

Paul needed no further convincing, jumping off the piano bench with a gasp and sprinting out of the room as fast as his little legs could carry him.

I laughed. "He's cute." I got up from the piano bench and started bouncing Posie, who started fussing as she watched Paul depart. "So how's your summer been?"

"It's been alright," Peter replied with his shrug. "I was told I should ask you about yours. Why didn't you write me? James said you've been living here for nearly a month now."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to write you, I did, it's just... it's... I didn't know what to say."

"I got Lily's letter, and James wrote me saying you were okay and it was all a big misunderstanding. I wanted to write you, I just... I got shy. I waited for you to write me first, but you didn't. What happened, Cass?"

"My parents, they... they... my brother's dead," I finished in a whisper. I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. "I wanted to write you, but I was just so sad, and I... I told everyone else out of necessity, but I said it out loud, and only because Lily had written everyone already. I couldn't bring myself to put it in writing. I'm sorry. I was just too sad to write you."

"It's okay, I understand," Peter said. "I'm sorry about your brother, and whatever happened with your parents."

But something about his tone felt off, so I pressed. "You still seem a bit upset. What's wrong?"

"It's just — " Peter hesitated for a long second. "You got to spend the past month living here, with James, doing whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. I don't think I could be very sad about that, no matter what the circumstances were."

I opened my mouth to try to reply, but tears shot to my eyes before I could.

Peter saw my tears, and his eyes bulged. "I'm so sorry, Cass, that was so insensitive, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm just so tired of taking care of my siblings all summer, it's so exhausting, the thought of freedom just sounded too... too... I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said. "They seem like a handful."

"Yeah. They really are. Posie's my favorite though, she hasn't learned how to ask annoying questions... yet." Peter smiled a bit as he tickled her belly and got her to giggle. "Anyway, I really am sorry to hear about your brother. Feel free to borrow any of my younger siblings whenever you feel lonely."

"Posie's been good company," I replied. "Paul, too. You can go back to the party if you'd like, it's for you, it's your birthday, you don't have to hide in here with me, you should go spend time with all of your other friends — "

"I wanted to spend time with you too," Peter said, his voice devastatingly sincere.

"Oh. Are you sure?"

Peter nodded. "Of course. I missed you. Come on, come out with me, we can steal a couple bites of food from the kitchen then go hide somewhere quiet. Posie's never seen the garden before, which I think is a real shame considering her name is Posie. We can see if anyone wants to show her with us."

"You know what, I agree," I replied with a nod back at him. "Let's go be Gryffindors and be brave and face the loud kitchen."

Peter grinned. "See, you just understand me. Fleamont said you helped with the macaroni cheese, which looks really good, by the way!"

The crowd in the kitchen had thinned out by the time I got there with Peter, because a couple of people had gone outside to sit around the pond and soak up the late summer sun, and a couple of people were receiving a tour of the manor, and a couple of people had retreated to a nearby sitting room for conversations that didn't have to be shouted over the sound of everyone else's conversations. We ended up lingering in the kitchen with Posie for quite a while, who Lily took from me so I could eat with both of my hands free. Once I was done eating, I got Posie back and made my way out to the garden with Peter and Remus, and we found a shady bench under an arch full of posies where we could just sit and talk quietly and watch the sparse clouds overhead glide across the otherwise-blue sky.

We were so quiet, in fact, that Posie began to nod off, and before I knew it, I was holding a sleeping baby against my chest.

"She never sleeps when people are holding her!" Peter murmured, eyes wide.

"Cass Williams, the baby whisperer," Remus teased in a low voice.

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. "Oh, shut up."

"I didn't realize you loved babies so much," Peter whispered. "You've never mentioned it before."

"It wasn't exactly relevant at a magic school where the youngest people for miles around are eleven," I whispered back.

Before either of the boys could make a comment, the loud, carrying voice of James Potter started to approach. Peter shot to his feet and rushed in the direction of the voice, and I could only make out frantic shushing sounds and a whispered conversation too low for me to hear, but Remus, beside me, chuckled.

"What're they saying?" I asked softly. "I can't make it out."

"Peter told James to shut up because the baby was sleeping in your arms, and James responded, 'I thought Cass was hiding from everyone, why is she hiding from me but not a baby? Babies are nowhere near as interesting as me, even if we can be equally loud!' Peter's reply was, 'I think that's the idea,' and James, predictably, took offense to that, especially when Lily and Mary very quickly agreed that they'd take a squalling baby over James any day and they were jealous you got there first. Marlene just laughed. Oh, here they come."

Surely enough, the rest of our friends crept around the corner on tiptoes, craning their necks to see what exactly was going on. I would have waved, but seeing as I was holding Posie and didn't want to disturb her, I merely jerked my chin in greeting and smiled, feeling equal parts proud and embarrassed.

"We'll leave you alone," James stage-whispered. "Come on, let's go be loud far away from here."

Peter agreed happily, and they all retreated, leaving me alone with Remus.

"You can go with them if you want," I whispered. "I promise I wouldn't be offended."

Remus shook his head, whispering back. "No, it's alright, I'll keep you company. Lily said she loaned you Little Women? What'd you think?"

"Have you read it?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, yes. I always read the book before watching the movie. Or, well, TV show, in this case."

"There's a TV show?"

"Don't waste your time, it was awful, the BBC tried one two years ago. If you're going to watch an adaptation, watch the 1933 movie. But yes, I've read the book. What did you think of it?"

I shot him an uneasy grin. "That's a dangerous question with a very long answer."

"A longer answer than the time I asked you to explain why you love your favorite song?"

"Yes. Far longer. I fear I may never stop talking once I start."

"Alright, then, let's hear it," Remus replied with a bright smile. "I missed you. Go ahead. Hold nothing back."

"When you're still sitting here listening to me twelve hours from now, remember that you asked for this," I said. "Anyway, Little Women is now my favorite book of all time, because — "

"Wait, let me guess," Remus interrupted, brown eyes bright as they bored into mine. "Because you're Beth?"

I blinked and recoiled, careful not to jostle the still-sleeping Posie too much. "What? No, no no no, because I'm Jo."

It was then his turn to blink and recoil. "No, I'm Jo. You're Beth."

"I didn't even play piano until three weeks ago," I replied. "And you're not a writer, I am."

"I don't play piano at all, and I'm a passably decent writer after how much reading I've done," he asserted. "And it's not just the hobbies that define Beth and Jo, I know you know that."

I huffed. "Well, of course, but I'm very much like Jo in terms of personality too. I mean, Remus, look at what I'm wearing. I'm every bit as boyish as Jo."

"Yes, and I'm actually a boy," Remus retorted. "You're not short-tempered enough to be Jo. I am, though."

"I'm feeling pretty short-tempered right now," I hissed back.

"You're just upset because I'm right and you know it and, like Beth, you hate being perceived and prefer to exist in ways that go largely unseen yet positively impact the ones you love."

I opened and closed my mouth twice before I could come up with a brilliant counter-argument. "No."

"No?" Remus asked, eyes still shining with amusement.

"No. You're wrong. I'm Jo. We can both be Jo, if you really refuse to be Beth."

"No, we can't both be Jo, Jo would never be friends with herself, she'd drive herself crazy."

I stewed in silence for a long moment, face flushing. "I'm not Beth. I'm Jo."

"Whatever you say, Beth," Remus replied with a smile. "Anyway, forgive the interruption, please tell me your thoughts on Little Women."

"I'm going to do us both a favor and ignore everything you just said," I muttered. I shook my head to clear it. "Anyway, Little Women is now my favorite book of all time, because..."

In the end, my long ramble about how much I loved Little Women was cut short by the birthday party festivities of singing and cake and presents. Everyone left in the early evening, since we all had to be on the train by eleven the following morning, and I enjoyed one last quiet night at the piano, thinking, begrudgingly, maybe Remus had a little bit of a point when he said I reminded him of Beth.

By the time I crawled into bed with James, I was too exhausted by the day to have much energy to waste worrying about the return to school. I was looking forward to spending time with Sirius, who wasn't allowed to attend the birthday party, and with Carter, who I missed very dearly. I hadn't gotten the chance to ask if he'd heard my attempt at a birthday greeting for him, but whether he'd heard it or not, I hoped he'd appreciate the birthday gift I'd pieced together for him — a whole collection of lyrics from my favorite songs that reminded me of him. I was too tired to worry much about classes, or professors, or blood supremacists in the halls, or how it would feel to be at school knowing Bradley should be there with me, or what I would do if anyone figured out that I was the Muggle-born girl from the news who lived after all, but James was wide awake and very worried.

"Are you going to be okay sleeping on your own tomorrow night?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow to stare at me in the moonlight.

I nodded. "I'll miss you, of course, but I think I'll be alright."

"If you're ever not, you can come into our dorm, none of us would mind," James continued. "If I'm ever not in my bed, check Sirius's, and if we're not there, you can come find us, we're wandering about the castle somewhere. But wait, what if you can't find us, and you're sad and all alone, and — "

"It's alright, James," I assured him. "I won't bother anyone."

"No, no no, it's no bother, please come find me if you're sad during the night, or during the day, or any time, and I can teach you more guitar, or we could — "

"It's okay," I interrupted, resting a hand on his arm. "I can handle it. I spent a lot of time being sad last year, and I handled it on my own. I'll be alright."

"But what if you're not? And, Cass, you don't have to be alone anymore. You never had to be alone in the first place, but especially not now, you're more family than ever. I don't — I don't want you to ever feel like your parents made you feel, not ever again."

"You don't make me feel that way, James. Neither do your parents, or any of our friends."

"But you do still feel that way," James said, his voice heart-shattering-ly sad. "I can tell. You still feel like you don't belong. Even when I can tell you feel safe, you still look scared. You just disappeared today, you were hiding from everyone for most of the party."

"Posie was good company," I replied. "Paul too, and I spent a lot of time with Peter and Remus — "

"They both feel like they don't belong a lot of the time either," James interrupted. "I don't — I don't know how to make sure everyone feels like they belong."

Sorrow ripped through my chest. Oh James, you sweet boy. "That's a big job for one person, James. You're a very good person with a lot of love to give, but you're just one person, going up against years and years of, well, hurt. You don't have to heal every last little wound on every person you love. Your love is enough."

"It never feels like enough," he whispered.

Not sure of what else to say, I just snuggled closer to James, giving him the tightest hug I could as he hugged me back. I weighed my words carefully for a long minute before I spoke again.

"I'm going to be sad for a long time," I said softly. "I don't know if there's anything you can do to make the sadness go away faster. I don't think it will ever go away at all. You don't have to fight a losing battle, James, that sounds exhausting. It's enough just to feel like I'm not alone. I promise."

"Please just let me love you," James replied, so sincere I felt myself burning all over again. "Please just let us love you. I — I want to believe that the sadness will get smaller one day and you'll be full of so much love from all of us that it doesn't hurt anymore that your family is gone, in one way or another. We love you, we all want to love you."

"I love you all too."

My voice cracked, and I held tight to James as I cried for a couple of minutes before I just got too tired to continue and rolled onto my side to try to sleep.

Fire and water were warring for dominance over my soul. I wasn't sure which would win, the burning heat of being loved so intensely by my friends, or the suffocating frigidity of being hated so intensely by my parents. I knew in the end that water always emerged victorious over fire, but I wanted so desperately to somehow be the exception. If I had to pick a figure from myth, I would sooner be Icarus than Poseidon, and yet there was no denying that I was born into a world of tumult, of storms and earthquakes and of troubled waters that always beckoned to me. The world beneath me trembled as I fought to remain upright and not lose my place in the ever-changing landscape of my existence, and the rain never stopped trying to douse my fire, but I was still there, burning, after everything, and I clung desperately to the hope that I would always be that way. I wanted to love and be loved, without apology. I had hope that one day, maybe, I would find that. I just had to weather one storm at a time until then. I only hoped I would be brave enough to face whatever storms found me next.