A Lion or a Snake?

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/15788175.

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Character: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Dudley Dursley,
Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass,
Tracey Davis, Pansy Parkinson
Additional Tags: Female Harry Potter, Hogwarts Second Year, Magical Dudley Dursley,
Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, Pedophilia, Pedophile Gilderoy Lockhart,
Rumors, mentions of eating disorders, Attempted Sexual Assault, first
draft, Eligible for Change
Series: Part 2 of Life of a Witch
Stats: Published: 2018-08-25 Updated: 2019-07-12 Chapters: 11/? Words:
36902

A Lion or a Snake?
by Unknown_Gryffindor

Summary

After a dramatic end to her relatively normal first year, Azalea just wants to spend second
year being with her friends, playing Quidditch, and doing her school work.
However, the walls are whispering to her and Dudley, the entire school thinks she's trying to
kill people, and her new defense teacher seems interested in the girls for all the wrong
reasons.
 Chapter 1

Long after Dudley has gone to bed, Azalea sits at her desk, wrapping her friends late birthday gifts
that she had failed to give them during the school year. She got everyone a sweatshirt from her
vacation. Hermione's is Wendy from Peter Pan, Ron's is Merlin from The Sword in the Stone, and
the Twins are a set featuring Tweedledee and Tweedledum from Alice in Wonderland. In a bag in
her closet, Percy has Robin Hood and Neville has the Jungle Book cast on it.

Dudley had been given his Dumbo sweatshirt as soon as she had bought it.

Feeling bad for leaving out the rest of the Weasley's, Azalea got Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a Lady and
the Tramp set, Bill one about the Black Cauldron, Charlie Pete's Dragon, and Ginny one of Snow
White and the Seven Dwarfs. She wraps those together and sends them as a late Christmas Present.

Done wrapping, Azalea scans her room, looking for something to occupy her mind. She's barely
slept since school ended a few weeks ago, only managing a few hours a night between being unable
to fall asleep and waking up from worse nightmares than normal.

Sighing, Azalea heads to her closet and pulls out a lock-box she found at an airport on the way back
from vacation.

Inside, the Philosopher's Stone reflects her desk lamps light onto her wall, and she can almost
convince herself that the red in the mirror is simply a reflection of the stone. She picks up the shard
and watches it, the red hair from her birth-mother being the only thing left for her to see.
Occasionally, the hair will move and reveal a shoulder, as if she is looking next to her where Azalea
knows her birth-father is standing.

A sudden longing to connect with her family -her real family- hits her, and Azalea shuts the box and
turns off her lamp, crawling into bed.

***

That week, her summer really starts. Quidditch practice is every Wednesday at Hogwarts, Quidditch
camp is every Monday and Friday, and Azalea is signed up for Gymnastics every Tuesday and
Thursday, causing Dudley to sign up for a boxing class at the same time so they can ride the Knight
Bus together to London.

Neville, Ron, and Hermione come over for the weekend and are convinced to each decorate one of
the guestrooms, with Ron choosing Dudley's spare room, Hermione choosing Azalea's, and Neville
getting the room next to Hermione's room.

“What do you mean you haven't told him yet?” Hermione loudly whispers to her, hitting her with
one of her own pillows.

Not bothering to fight back, Azalea frowns. “I- I don't think he'd understand. He tells Dad
everything, and Dad would definitely make me give it back to Dumbledore.” Azalea lays down on
her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows to look at her friend. “Did I tell you about that? Dad
got a letter from Dumbledore saying they were taking more 'security precautions' from now on, and
he just seemed convinced.”

Hermione refuses to let her switch the conversation. “I know you trust Dudley more than that. Why
are you really not telling him?”
Azalea huffs, dropping her face into her bed. “I don't want to hurt him.” She turns her head
sideways, letting the words escape the blankets. “I've decided I want to find out more about my
parents. My real parents.”

***

Azalea shifts in her seat, suddenly unsure. “And what if I change my mind?” She asks again.

“You can simply choose to not do anything with any of the bloodlines, leaving them to be taken care
of by the bank. Besides title, nothing would change for you.” Slipshard stretches his hands out over
the seven boxes on the table between them. “If you do decide to no longer connect yourself with one
of them, you can disown yourself from the line and the head of the household would go to the next
in line.”

Nodding, Azalea takes a slow, deep breath. “Okay. I'm ready.”

The goblin quickly moves, opening one of the boxes. “As we have discussed, these are all your heir
rings. Once you turn fifteen, you will come in to accept your head-of-house rings.” Azalea nods her
understanding. “Each ring will have to be bonded to your magic. Simply prick your finger and let a
drop of blood land onto the center gem. Once bonded, you simply put the ring on.”

She follows the instructions, feeling magic settle over her as the Potter ring slides onto her finger.
The Peverell ring follows, sliding onto the same spot, disappearing onto the spot where the Potter
ring sits. The Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and the Black ring blend together on her
finger.

When she's done, she meets the Granger's at the bookstore where she left them, her heir rings
magically connected so she can tap the gem to switch to whichever ring she wants to show or to
mask it as a normal ring. “Thanks again for letting me come.” Azalea smiles up at the Granger's
before turning to Hermione. “What are you getting Neville for his birthday?”

***

Azalea's birthday is celebrated quietly with her Grandparents and Dudley, and their father taking
them out to dinner after he gets out of work. Her Grandparents got her a glass statue of a rose that
she places on her bookshelf next to the azalea they gave her for Christmas. Dudley, proudly wearing
his Dumbo sweatshirt, hands her a necklace with her name on it. At dinner, her father gives er a with
more than triple her weekly allowance, which was already more money than she felt the need to
spend.

The friends of hers that don't know her real birthday had celebrated her birthday with Dudley's
during the last week of school, but Hermione and the Twins send her owls that night. Hermione's gift
if the Lord of the Rings series, and the twins send her some red and gold hair clips that they swear
can pick any muggle lock.

As she gets ready for bed, she finds another two books, The History of Mind Magics , Creating
Your Mindscape, given to her by her birth-mothers mystery friend.

Miss Potter

Learn to protect your mind. Dangerous times are coming.

Do not inform anyone. Mind Magics are frowned upon by many people.

***
Besides a few weekends where they have to sit through their fathers business dinners, Azalea and
Dudley spend their weekends with their friends, Dudley and Ron switching between the two houses
while Azalea jumps between having Hermione and Neville over and going to either of their houses.

They get their school lists at the beginning of August, and they quickly plan an outing for that
upcoming weekend to Diagon Alley with their group of friends. With their school lists are bundles of
photos from their previous school-year, and instructions to send their favorite picture of themselves
and any other photos they want in the yearbook to the school. The camera's identify their magical
cores and print the names of each person in the photos, and the house-elves sent a copy of each
photo to each person who is in the photo, and the school will get permission from each person in the
photo before using it. Azalea smiles at the photos and adds them all to the photo album she bought
that holds pictures of them ice skating and building gingerbread houses last Christmas, as well as all
the pictures they took in America.

Her favorite photo, their group of five sitting on the edge of the lake, gets a frame and a place of
honor next to her bedside table. Photo-her is laying, eyes closed, with her head in Dudley's lap, her
feet propped up on Neville. Dudley and Ron are talking animatedly, and Hermione rolls her eyes at
them from behind her book. Neville is leaning back against the tree, smiling at them all.

There are a few photos that she tucks away at the back of the book, not wanting to look at. Her,
Neville, and Hermione running from the troll on Halloween. Her, standing in the doorway of
Hagrid's flaming hut before ducking inside. Her and Dudley flinching back from the flame of the
baby dragon. Her, running into Dudley's arms after Hagrid escorted her out of the third-floor
corridor.

The only photo she sends back to the school is one of her in the window seat. One of the few where
she is by herself, Azalea has her birth-mothers journal open on her knee, reading it, with her other leg
dangling off of the seat. Her photo-self flips the page and glances up at the camera before looking
back down and reading.

***

That weekend, the Dursley's sleep in a hotel across the hall from the Granger's so that transporting to
Diagon Alley is easier. The six of them meet with Neville at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and wait
for the Weasley's.

“Late. As always.” Their father grumbles.

Half an hour later, all of the school-bound Weasley's and their parents come barreling down the
street, and they all head out to get their new supplies. The twins disappear into the crowd to meet up
with Lee, and Percy waves at a Ravenclaw girl with long, blonde, curly hair and leaves to spend
time with her, leaving only the two youngest redheads and their parents with the group.

They decide to go to the bookstore first. Ginny and Ron, who mostly use their siblings hand-me-
down books, only have to grab books for their new defense teachers. The bookstore is packed with
people, and the group squeezes past the crowd to the mostly-empty school section, paying a worker
for the books they need. “Is that Gilderoy Lockhart?” Mrs Weasley fans herself, watching the man
who wrote the second-year defense books give autographs. “New book release, I suppose.”

“The Professor must be a fan.” Dudley mutters, balancing the eleven defense books in his hands.

Hermione scoffs. “It's not that he's a fan. He's the writer.” She points to a sign behind the man and
his bright blue suit. “Gilderoy Lockhart – Teaching The Next Generation.” The three of them watch
the man wearily as he smiles widely at a student and signs one of his books for her.
Azalea looks at the description of one of the books and frowns. “These look like stories, not
schoolbooks.” She says quietly, flipping through the pages.

“Nonsense.” Mrs Weasley scoffs, grabbing their Lockhart books from them and shrinking them
down, keeping only the autobiographies full sized. “Now, you all go ahead and I'll get these signed
for you.” Dudley and Neville give the woman a strange look, but Azalea nods. It's reasonable, after
all. If there's a book signing and you have the books you might as well get them signed. They go get
themselves new stationary, potions supplies, and Mrs Weasley joins them as they finish up and they
all head together to get their Hogwarts uniforms.

With a small glance at her father, Azalea orders an even larger amount of clothes than the previous
year. Her father, instead of being upset about the amount of money spent, nods with a large smile
and puts his hand on her shoulder proudly before she is taken into the back room for sizing, the
woman sizing her if she wants the same style as last year.

“You still remember the styles?” Azalea asks in awe.

The woman chuckles at her. “We keep records of everything. You're previous orders, your
measurements, the styles and colors of all of your purchases.” Azalea nods in shock as the girl
continues. “Of course, there are little differences with the design of second year, so you'll want to
have a look at it anyway.”

She looks into the mirror and watches her outfit change as the woman taps the mirror with her wand.
The uniform for this year was opposite of last year, with their pants holding the colors of her house.
She gets straight-legged jeans in both red and gold, along with flowy mini-skirts and leggings, with
fifteen of everything in each color. She makes the straps to her tanks tops a halterneck and makes
them slightly see-through, figuring she can wear red and gold bandeaus under them, and makes her t-
shirts baggy and comfortable, the sleeves barely going a quarter the way down her arm, getting both
types of shirts in both white and dark brown. Her button-ups are all white and made of jean, and the
tank tops under them are soft, a dark shade of brown, the sleeves thick, covering the top of her
shoulders. Azalea gets twenty of each type of shirt to go with her bottoms. Cloaks are solid colors,
and she gets one in white and one in brown for every different type of weather.

After that section of the uniform, she's sized for her Quidditch uniform and gymnastics leotard. She
gets three Quidditch uniforms, two for practice every week and one for the game, and she gets
herself four new leotards. She gets a new pair of boots and gloves for Herbology, and a pair of
potions gloves.

The only new addition to her wardrobe that she hadn’t expected were the duelling robes. A mix
between her ritual robes and her Quidditch uniform, the outfit let her move like she was hardly
wearing anything at all.

Once back in the main room, the Dursley's sign up for their clothes to be delivered to their house.
The second-years browse the Quidditch shop while Ginny is brought to go get her wand made.
Azalea and Dudley both get the Nimbus 2001, eager to have her own broom after always practicing
on the school brooms.

Azalea joins Hermione and Neville outside the shop, and the three of them get permission to browse
the pet shop down the street.

“How's Fang?” Neville asks.

Azalea rolls her eyes. “He's been living with my Aunt since after Christmas break. The bulldogs she
breeds seem to really love him, and I was never home to take care of him.” Not like he had ever
really been her dog, but she still feels like her Aunt stole him from her.

Neville veers away from them to get some food for Trevor, and Azalea and Hermione browse
together, slowly making their way through the store. They end up in a section full of cats, and
Hermione quickly falls in love with a scruffy-looking orange cat. It purrs as the two girls pet it, and
Azalea promises to watch the cat while Hermione runs off to beg her parents to let her buy it.

When she comes back, she's followed by their entire shopping group.

“Guess what, 'Lea?” Dudley grins wildly. “Dad said I can spend the rest of the summer at the
Weasley's!” Azalea gives him a strained smile, a ping of loneliness dancing through her stomach.

***

The next three weeks take longer than the entire summer before it.

Quidditch camp ended the week they got their letters, and without Dudley to take the bus with her
she doesn't feel as comfortable going into London for gymnastics. Most days she rides her bike into
the nearby town and shops for the upcoming school-year, or helps out at her grandparents flower
shop. The only constant is her Wednesday Quidditch practices, where Oliver Wood almost cries with
joy every time he looks at her broom.

Hermione lives in a larger town than Azalea does, and they spend a weekend shopping with Mrs.
Granger. Dresses, shoes, jackets, makeup, and jewelry for their three future dances fill shopping
bags, and the two witches talk excitedly about their upcoming classes. Azalea, feeling a little daring,
gets her ears pierced and walks away with small ruby earrings, wondering how her family will react.

The only downside to the weekend is when her pads fall out of her purse at the house, prompting
Mrs. Granger to give them a long and embarrassing talk on the female body, tampons, and sex and
consent.

She spends the last few days of the holiday at Neville's, not wanting her father to have to drive her to
the station.

Throughout her time at his house over the summer, Azalea has learned a lot more about wizarding
culture than her culture class taught her. Neville explains that not all wizard families follow the same
traditions, like the Weasley's, so the Headmaster decided to drop the second year of culture classes
that would cover most of them. Meals with Neville's Gran are filled with polite conversation, and
sharp instruction about how she should sit at the table and which utensil to use for which part of the
meal. It's all really uptight and boring, but Azalea tries her best to appease the intimidating older
woman.

Tuesday morning, September first, Azalea goes through the floo with Neville after giving a formal
goodbye to Mrs. Longbottom. They get there half an hour before the train leaves and are instantly
hugged by a bouncing Hermione and her cat carrier.

The three Gryffindors stand by the floo's talking, waiting for the Weasley's to come through. As
usual, the redheaded clan, plus a small blonde girl, comes tearing through the floo minutes before the
train leaves.

Except the family was less than half its normal size. Only Percy, Ginny, and the new blonde are with
their parents. The twins, Ron, Dudley, and Lee are nowhere in sight.

“Where's Dudley?” Azalea asks, following the quick family as they rush towards the train.
Mrs. Weasley gives the world an annoyed scowl before smoothing her face into something more
calm and reassuring. “They're with Lee. Don't worry, I'll get them to Hogsmeade. They'll be there
when the train arrives.”

A hard spike of worry pangs in her stomach, and Azalea falls back slightly to Mr. Weasley's side,
watching his worries face closely. “What happened?” She questions the man.

The two of them, along with Neville and Hermione, slow to a stop, and Mr. Weasley squats down to
her face level, pulling out a piece of paper. “They snuck out sometime last night. They said they'd be
back before the train leaves, but we waited as long as we can. Once the train leaves, we'll go get
them and take them to the school. We know where they are. There's nothing to worry about.” Azalea
studies his face intently, startled when she is pulled into a hug by the man. “We'll take care of him.
You can trust us.” Azalea shudders, nodding and nearly collapsing into the hug.

The train whistles, and Mr. Weasley pulls back from the hug, looking towards the train. “Go on,
now. We don't want you missing it too.” Azalea freezes, still uneasy about going without Dudley,
and Hermione and Dudley both grab one of her hands and pulls her to the train, yelling 'thank yous'
and 'goodbyes' back to the Weasley's.

Gone to get Lee. Back by breakfast. The note says, helping answer none of the questions Azalea has.

Ginny and the blonde girl have claimed a compartment, and the three second-years join them, not
wanting to look for the next empty one. Their compartment makes extra room for Hermione to put
down a litter box for Crookshanks, and the cat sulks out of the carrier with an unhappy look at
Hermione.

Ginny introduces the blonde as Luna Lovegood, who greets them all with an airy voice, tilting her
head enough to make her radish earrings hit against her neck.

***

The train ride seems to take much longer than the clock says, and Neville points the two first-years
towards the lake while the three of them stand nervously on the platform, looking around desperately
for their five missing friends.

“Maybe they're already in a carriage.” Hermione offers. “Or they were brought straight to the
school.” With her stomach full of lead, Azalea allows herself to be led to the carriages.

In the Great Hall, the Gryffindors study the Hufflepuff table thoroughly, and Azalea can feel
Hermione and Neville share a nervous look behind her back when they can't find who they're
looking for. They sit together, Hermione and Neville introducing themselves to Nearly-Headless
Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, as he floats through the table in front of them. The ghosts typically
ignore the students, since they can't remember past their most recent death-day, and the few that do
interact typically ignore the first-years out of respect of the overwhelming changes in their lives that
year.

Azalea jumps lightly as the doors open and a few hundred new first-years are led in, looking around
at the Hall in awe. She spots Ginny quickly, her red hair standing out in contrast to Luna's bright
blonde next to her. Her heart sinks lower when she can't find her brother among the crowd, and then
she berates herself for hoping he would be with the first-years.

The sorting starts, and Azalea finds it hard to pay attention to the long list of names, clapping politely
whenever people around her clap. She stares at the sky absently, worry eating her alive, as the people
around her lose interest in the sorting and start taking. “Are all of the Defense teachers new?” One of
the guys asks quietly, and Azalea looks at the defense table absently.

Hermione and Neville do the same, and one of the older students respond. “I heard that there is a
curse on the position. Nobody has taught for more than a year in forty years.”

“They replace six teachers every year?” Hermione asks incredulously. “How are there even that
many qualified teachers in the country?” She doesn't get an answer, and the three of them go back to
doing their own thing- Neville watching the sorting, Hermione studying the teachers critically, and
Azalea getting more and more restless with every name that is called. After a few minutes of looking
around the room and trying not to think, she decides to use the time to meditate and organize her
mind, using the tips from the Occlumency book she had gotten for her birthday. She isn't very far
into the process yet, unable to find a way to visualize her mind, but she works at it a little every day,
not liking the idea of Legilimency being used on her.

Neville nudges her arm gently, startling her. Azalea looks around to find the sorting over, the feast on
the table already. “Luna's in Ravenclaw and Ginny is with us.” He informs her, and she smiles at
him shakily. Ginny is sitting on the far side of the three of them, looking nervous and excited.

“Mrs. Dursley.” A familiar voice drawls, and hope appears. Azalea turns around in her seat quickly,
barely taking in the furious expression on Professor Snape's face. “Your idiot brother is here.”

Clamoring to her feet, Azalea takes a deep breath. “Is he okay?”

The Potions Master nearly growls. “Unfortunately.”

Azalea nearly laughs. “Can I see him?”

She gets a stiff nod in response, and she is ready to run out of the room. The Professor tests her
patience by having her wait while he addresses Ginny. “Mrs. Weasley, I presume. Three of your
brothers have also made it, relatively unscratched. If you wish to see them, you may.”

Ginny, unfazed by Snape's foul mood, rolls her eyes. “They're always fine, Professor. I wasn't
worried.”

The Professor raises one of his eyebrows and turns and walks away, heading to the door. “Your
brother is in my office. I'm going to grab the senior Weasley, but I trust you remember where my
office is.” Without waiting for her to respond, the Professor leaves her in the doorway, and she turns
and takes of running, feet pounding against the stone floor as she heads down to the potions corridor.

Azalea opens the office doors, letting them hit the wall while she scans the small room for Dudley.
The blond stands from a chair when he sees her, and Azalea flings herself into his arms. “I was so
worried.” She says quietly, clinging to him.

Part of her wants to pull back, yell at him for doing that to her. She shoves that part aside and clings
tightly to him, wrapping her arms around one of his arms as she pulls back from the hug.

She blinks back worried and frustrated tears as she looks at the Weasley's. “Luna's in Ravenclaw,
Ginny's in Gryffindor.” She quietly repeats what Neville told her, allowing herself a small, shaky
smile.

***

When Azalea gets back to the common room, Azalea finds Hermione and is led to the second-year
dorms, where they share a room with Neville, and Dean and Seamus, a pair of best friends Neville
had roomed with last year.
“We're not going to tell our parent's, right?” Azalea asks tentatively, not liking the idea of her father
finding out about sleeping in the same bedroom.

“Nope.” Hermione answers, not seeming at all apologetic. “It's not weird here. They wouldn't
understand.”
 Chapter 2

Wednesday, classes start. The second-years all have the morning off, and the Gryffindors spend it in
the mostly-empty common while Dudley and Ron are scrubbing cauldrons in detention with
Professor Snape. After most other students are in class, the three of them head down to catch the last
half hour of breakfast.

The rumours reach them immediately. The twins got a howler at breakfast about them stealing a car
and flying it to school, and half of the student body seems to believe they did it to impress Azalea.

“Why me, anyway?” She asks quietly, avoiding the looks the other students were sending her way.

Seamus, who had shared the rumour with them, gives her a slightly embarrassed look. “I mean, you
and them have a history-” Hermione turns her head and glares at him, causing him to raise his hands
in surrender. “Well you did go running out of here when they got here last night.”

Hermione and Azalea give twin scoffs, and Azalea gives an annoyed frown. “My brother was in that
car, I wasn’t-” She cuts herself off, digging her nails into her palm to keep herself calm. “I’m going
to kill George.” She whispers to herself. Louder, she keeps her voice perfectly even. “I’ll meet you
guys in Greek.” Ignoring her friends protests, she heads out of the room and climbs the seven flights
of stairs to her common room, packing all of her leotards into a duffle bag, along with a package of
scrunchies, Sleekeazy’s hair potion, and her Gryffindor water bottle before heading back down to the
Gymnastics area.

She stands in the main training area, where all the years train together if they go in during their spare
time. Azalea is alone in the room, and she takes a minute to bask in the silence before walking
through the room towards the second-year area, where there’s a locker room. Tapping her wand
against one of the lockers causes her name to appear engraved on the metal, claiming it as hers for
the rest of the school year.

Another tap of her wand causes her locker to pop open, and she hangs up three of her leotards before
getting dressed in the fourth for a small workout.

Back in the main training area, Azalea is in the splits stretching out when the door opens and one of
the coaches walks in, smiling at her. “We’re alerted every time someone is in here without a spotter.
Try to make sure someone’s in here when you’re all on break, but we figured the first day back most
people would be relaxing.”

Azalea smiles at the coach, the familiar atmosphere accomplishing its job of calming her down. “I
just needed a workout.”

The coach smiles back at her. “Second year, right? You do any training over the summer?”

“Yeah, um, twice a week. Except for the last three weeks, but I was doing quidditch practices, and
stretching.”

“So you should be in shape then. How about some basic tumbling, then?”

Smiling, Azalea stands, making sure the potion had slicked back her ponytail. “You’re the coach. I’ll
follow your lead.”

***
After their introductory lesson in Greek, Azalea walks in the middle of the group on their way to
lunch. Last year she hadn’t noticed when there were rumours being spread about her, but this year
she can’t seem to stop catching people glancing her way, older students glancing her up and down.

A hand appears on both of her shoulders, and she quickly tells her friends that she’ll catch up before
she’s pulled away into a side corridor.

“What do you two want?” She asks bitterly, focusing her glare on the Ravenclaw twin.

“Ah.” The two twins say together. “So you have heard.”

Her body starts to shake angrily, and she crosses her arms, digging her nails into her biceps. “Of
course I have. Not that I needed to. Have you seen the creepy looks I’ve been getting?”

The twins both share a look that Azalea doesn’t even bother trying to decipher before they start
speaking again. “We just wanted-” “To apologize.” “My dear brother here-” “Tends to talk a lot-”
“Without thinking.”

Azalea sighs. She’s always known he didn’t think it through, and he never planned on it hurting her
reputation. “I know, it’s just... There’s almost three thousand students at this school. Why do they all
have to be talking about what they think I’m doing.”

“I think you mean-” “Who they think your doing.” The twins joke at her.

She looks down at the ground, their words digging a pit in her stomach. Mrs. Granger had told her
and Hermione about girls who sleep around in school, and Azalea really doesn’t want to be thought
of as one of those girls. Without another word, she drops her hands to the ground and shoves her
way past the twins, blocking them out hard enough that she doesn’t know if they even bothered
calling after her.

Shaking, Azalea makes her way through the school blindly, wishing she was wearing something
other than her slightly see-through white halter top with a red bandeau to match her red mini-skirt.
The attention on her makes her skin crawl, and she walks through empty corridors, not wanting
anyone near her.

“Ms. Dursley?” Professor Snape’s sharp voice reaches her through her daze, and Azalea snaps her
eyes up from the ground, his familiar black silhouette standing in front of her. “Why are you not at
lunch?”

“Why aren’t you?” She answers without thinking, not willing to tell her problems not to someone
directly involved.

“Detention, Ms. Dursley, for your cheek.” The man stares down at her, and she instantly averts her
eyes, not sure if he can read her mind or not. After a moment of standing silently, Professor Snape
sighs. “I suppose it might as well be right now, since you don’t seem inclined to join your
schoolmates for lunch.”

“Yes sir.” Azalea says quietly, watching the shadow of his cloak on the ground as she follows him to
his office.

“Since Potion classes have yet to start their practical classes, I unfortunately don’t have cauldrons for
you to clean. I’m assuming you passed your first year of potions?” Professor Snape sneers at her.

“Third in my year, sir.” She affirms quietly. She and Dudley, who got fourth, did really well thanks
to years of cooking dinners for their mothers. Hermione, unsurprisingly, got higher than either of
them, getting second in the class. It’s the only class she didn’t get first in.

Professor Snape’s sneer gets larger. “One point from Gryffindor for bragging, Ms. Dursley.” Azalea
drops her head down, nodding and making a note to herself to not point out her achievements to
anyone. “You will be assisting me in preparing some ingredients. Since Professor Altwood is fairly
competent, I trust you will be using proper form.” Azalea nods again, following him as he starts
walking again.

They go through the back door of the office to a large brewing room, a couple of brewing potions
scattered throughout the room. “You may use that table.” She’s instructed, and she sets her bag down
by her feet and stands at the table as Professor Snape gathers together ingredients. “You’ll be slicing
mandrakes. Fine, even slices.”

Azalea nods again, and Professor Snape lets out a sigh as he places the roots down in front of her. “I
expect verbal responses, Ms. Dursley.”

“Yes, sir.” She answers immediately, relaxing slightly. Her mother always needed her to answer as
well, and it seems somewhat comforting to be in a familiar dynamic.

Professor Snape sets down a knife for her to work with next to the roots and leaves her alone,
checking on his cauldrons. Azalea grabs the handle slowly, taking a deep breath to try to calm her
still-shaking hands. She has her knife placed above one of the roots, ready to start working, when the
Professor speaks again.

“If you are unable to get your shaking under control, do not ruin my ingredients with a failed attempt
at a simple job.”

Azalea looks up and sets the knife back down. “I’m sorry, sir, I am trying, I promise.”

The Potions Master finishes his examination of his cauldron and looks towards her. “When was the
last time you ate?”

“What?” Azalea blinks, confused at the change in topic.

“One missed meal would not cause shaking.” He states. “Unless I scare you so bad that you are
shaking?” Azalea shakes her head, and he begins to walk towards her. “Are you angry, then? Or do
you have any way to explain the shaking other than lack of food.”

“No, sir.” Azalea answers quietly, looking down at the ground.

“Then when did you last eat, Ms. Dursley.”

Azalea swallows feeble. “Breakfast.” She gets only a raised eyebrow in response, and she sighs
before continuing. “Yesterday.”

A flash of disappointment appears in the Professor's eyes, quickly followed by a dark anger. “My
office.” He orders, gesturing to the door. Resigned to a punishment, Azalea grabs her bag and leads
the way, turning back to him after she passes his desk. “Mimsy.” He says quietly.

Azalea blinks at him again, confused until a house elf pops into the room. The outfit they are wearing
looks like an old-fashioned toga, in a dark green with a silver crown just under its right shoulder.

“Yes, Professor Potions Master Snape, Sir?” They say happily, big eyes pointed up at his face.

“Would you bring some food here for Ms. Dursley? A snack she can take with her throughout the
day, preferably muggle.”

The elf looks at her with a wide smile. “Yes, sir. Mimsy can do that, sir.” A pop and they’re gone,
leaving Azalea watching the empty spot.

“Sit.”

Quickly, she follows the order, sitting on the chair on her side of his desk. Slowly, he sits down
across from her.

“Explain to me why you have been avoiding your meals.”

Azalea dodges the Potions Master's gaze. “I haven’t sir.”

Professor Snape gives a small, annoyed growl. “Fine. Let’s start easy. Why did you not eat lunch on
the train?”

Taking a deep breath, Azalea recalls the train ride that felt like eternity. “Dudley, I guess. I was
worried about Dudley and didn’t feel like eating.”

“And dinner that night? At the feast?”

She shrugs. “I was still too worried to be hungry. And once I found out he was okay, they were
given dinner in their common rooms, but...”

“But since the Professors had assumed you had eaten at the feast, you weren’t given anything.”
Professor Snape finishes for her, causing her to nod lightly. He gives her a sigh, before continuing
the conversation. “And this morning?”

There’s another pause as Azalea cringes slightly. “I was going to. But... there was this rumour...”

Trailing off again, she listens as Professor Snape gives her another sigh. “Rumour, Ms. Dursley?”
Silently, Azalea nods. “One point from Gryffindor for not responding orally. Another for wasting my
time.” He stands, hands on the table in front of him. “People talk. It’s what they do. Don’t be so
weak as to let them affect you.” His voice growls with disgust, and Azalea flinches back, nodding.

Mimsy pops back into the room, and Professor Snape sits back down onto his seat. The house-elf
sets down a circular container, about as tall as a pop bottle with a smaller circular container coming
off of the side, down in front of her. “Mimsy has bite sized grilled cheeses, and tomato soup for
Missus Dursley.” They say proudly.

“Thank you Mimsy.” Professor Snape says quietly. “That’s all I need for now.” The house elf nods
and pops away. The Professor pulls out the Daily Prophet and growls. “Get out of my office.”

***

Azalea sits on her bed, looking down at the container of food in her hands. Her stomach churns at
the thought of eating, but her logic tells her that eating would make her hands stop shaking. With a
sigh, she takes both lids off of the container, dipping a ball of grilled cheese halfway into the tomato
soup before shoving it into her mouth.

The taste is great and familiar, but she can’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t eat it. Her hands are
still shaking, and she manages to eat a couple more, testing her hands for a few seconds between
every bite.
“Azalea! Where have you been?” Hermione’s voice startles her and she jumps, thanking magic for
the fact that the tomato soup doesn’t spill onto her lap.

Her friends pile onto her bed, Neville watching her worriedly.

“I got in trouble with Professor Snape over missing lunch.” She explains quickly, putting the lids
back onto her food and putting it onto her bedside table. “I was given some food. What are you
doing here?”

“Dudley was worried.” Neville answers.

Hermione interjects. “We asked the twins, but they said you stormed off. So we checked the
Gymnastics area, and then came here. Dudley and Ron are checking the Quidditch Pitches. We’re
supposed to meet up in the entrance hall.”

Annoyance bubbles up in her stomach, blocking out the warm feeling that her friend was giving her.
“I’m a big girl. I can walk around on my own for a while without you all having to go looking for
me.”

“Dudley’s heard about the rumours, Azalea.” Neville reasons with her. “Some older Hufflepuffs told
him so he could watch out for anyone wanting to act on them.”

Azalea thinks of the looks she’s been receiving from older students and suppresses a shudder. “Yeah,
fine, I get it.” Standing, she opens her wardrobe and grabs her white, warm-weather cloak. She puts
it on and fiddles with the fabric, she looks back to her friends. “You don’t think... Do you think
anyone would actually try anything?” She asks quietly.

Both of her friends say no, but Azalea can’t help but feel like she’s being guarded as her friends walk
on either side of her on their way out of the common room.
 Chapter 3

After Astrology, Azalea sits between Dudley and Hermione during dinner at the Gryffindor table,
their conversation firmly on their future in sports.

“So we have to do the weekly competitions?” Hermione asks with a huff. Azalea smiles down at her
plate of fruit, knowing intimately the hatred her friend has for Gymnastics.

Dudley slams his fist down on the table. “Right! Thanks for reminding me!” He stands and walks
quickly to Professor Sprout.

“What was that about?” Azalea watches her brother, feeling incredibly left out for not knowing
what’s going on in his head.

Ron watches him too, wearing a fond smile. “He wanted to change which sport he was doing.
Charlie suggested it over the summer.”

“You can do that?” Hermione asks quickly, the same time Azalea asks. “Boxing?”

“Yeah. and Yeah.” Ron answers, filling his plate with a second helping. “They don’t let first years,
but you can change it to something else as soon as your a second year. I guess if it’s something that
the school doesn’t offer, they find a muggle place that offers it and you’ll get a portkey to and from
class every day.”

As soon as Ron finishes speaking, Hermione moves to jump out of her seat, only to run into a body.
“Professor!” She gasps, startled. “I was just going to ask if I could speak to you.”

Professor McGonagall smiles. “Of course, Miss Granger. Miss Dursley, I need to speak with you
after.” Hermione leads the Professor away, and Azalea turns back to Neville and Ron.

“So why do you and ‘Lee have your sports still, while I only have Quidditch?”

Ron takes a second to swallow his food before answering. “Dud and I are reserves, not actually on
the team, so we practice twice a week while the team is working out.”

Azalea nods. That makes sense. She had practiced with the Gryffindor reserves last year, and they
practiced on Monday’s and Friday’s, whereas the main teams practice Tuesday through Thursday.

They keep talking until Hermione comes back to the table, gesturing for Azalea to join Professor
McGonagall. Azalea stands, taking a few strides into the area between Gryffindor and the wall. “I
have heard that you’ve been missing meals.” Azalea opens her mouth, then shuts it again and nods,
letting her head-of-house continue. “Madame Pomfrey is expecting you in the hospital wing for a
check-up before your practice tonight. You will listen to what she says.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Azalea says sullenly, her gut telling her that she wasn’t going to be flying tonight.

***

Oliver Wood is waiting for her at the pitch, pacing. “Why have I heard that you’re not able to
practice?”

Azalea shrugs, holding up her broom. “Don’t worry, Coach. I’ve been cleared to fly.”

“Cleared?” Wood grabs onto her shoulder, looking her over. “So you did have to get checked out.
What happened? Injury? Sickness? Fight?”

“Low blood sugar.” She answers nonchalantly, looking up at where Katie, Angelina, and Alicia are
practicing a chaser maneuver, the Griffin beaters trying to knock them out of formation.

Wood tenses up, looking at her even more carefully. “Have you not been eating?”

“I missed a couple meals. But it’s over, and I’m back on schedule.”

“Why’d you miss meals?”

She sighs, tired of people asking. “I was worried about Dudley, and then I was upset at the rumours.
Good enough?”

He relaxes slightly, moving to her side and keeping his hand on her shoulder as they walk further
onto the pitch. “Alright. But if you do have trouble with it, talk to someone, alright?”

Azalea nods to him as he bounds forward and releases a red practice snitch for her to catch.

Practice moves quickly, coming to a grinding halt when Cormac McLaggen, the seeker of the Griffin
team, yells. “Hey Oliver! You’re gonna wanna see this!”

Curious, both Gryffindor teams fly together, surrounding Cormac to see where he’s pointing.

The two Slytherin teams are standing on the main pitch, meeting with a man who has two boxes
floating behind him. The Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, signs a paper quickly, and both boxes flick
open, over two dozen brooms flying out and moving to the players.

“No way.” Angelina breathes. “Those are Nimbus 2001’s.”

“Specially designed, too.” Katie confirms, pointing out the team colors of the wood.

“That had to cost a fortune.” Alicia joins in. “Who would possibly by brooms for both teams and all
of the reserves?”

Azalea, hovering above the chaser trio, catches glimpse of familiar white-blonde hair and scowls.
“Malfoy.” She answers bitterly.

Oliver shakes his head. “Those are designed for Seekers. Cormac, train with Azalea so you can find
out how to out maneuver the broom. Everyone else, focus on strength and dexterity instead of speed.
We’ll still beat them.”

***

“So, what’s going on?” Dudley questions, looking at Katie with confusion in his eyes. That
confusion is matched by the other four second years at the Hufflepuff table as Katie grabs some
bacon and puts it onto Azalea’s plate.

Katie smiles at them, putting her hands up playfully. “Nothing bad, I promise. Oliver has put the
Quidditch team on a rotation to make sure Azalea eats at meal times.” All of the younger students
start peppering her with questions about why, and Katie drops her hands, smile dissipating slightly.
“He just wants to make sure she’s healthy, is all.”

Azalea rolls her eyes, annoyed. “All because I missed a few meals? I told him I was fine.”

With another reassuring smile, Katie takes a breath. “I know. But...” She reaches her hand out onto
the table slowly, tapping her knuckle nervously. “Do you guys know what an eating disorder is?”

Hermione frowns. “I’ve heard my parents talking about patients who have them, but I never had a
reason to look them up. I’m guessing they’re bad?”

“Yeah. They’re bad.” Katie says solemnly. “The short version is that some people don’t eat when
they should, and they get really sick because of it. Oliver just wants to make sure Azalea doesn’t get
sick.” Slowly, their conversation turns towards their upcoming classes, passing time until they should
head to their next classes. Katie calls her back as she heads down the hall.

Telling Ron and Dudley to wait for her, Azalea turns back to the fourth-year, standing awkwardly on
the side of the hall.

Katie runs her hand through her hair. “Oliver told us that the rumours upset you, and that’s why you
didn’t eat. And I just really hope you know that I didn’t-” She takes a shaky breath before
continuing. “I didn’t say anything. To anyone. What Fred yelled-”

“ George,” Azalea corrects quickly, “yelled something that sounded different than what it was
without thinking into a dorm full of people on one of the few days of the year everyone would
without a doubt be in their dorms. I never thought it was you.”

Katie takes another deep, shaky breath, and gives her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Ron and Dudley give her questioning looks as she gets back to them. “It’s nothing.” She says
quietly, smiling. “Come on, the horses are waiting.” Wrapping her arms through their arms, she pulls
them along with her as she heads outside.

***

Their first Herbology lesson was the same as the year before, in a different greenhouse and with
magical plants that move on their own.

After splitting from Dudley, Azalea and Ron head to the Defense corridor. “Think Lockhart’s
actually going to know anything that he put in his book?” Azalea asks quietly, sitting with Ron in the
back of the classroom.

“Not at all.” Ron states confidently.

Walking through the doors exactly as the class time begins, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart strides
through the center aisle, smiling brightly in his turquoise robes. The class is silent as he makes his
way to the front of the room. Once up front, he points to a portrait of himself on the wall. “Me.” He
says, and Azalea studies the painting as it winks at the class. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin,
Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch
Weekly’s Most Charming Smile.”

“Of course, none of that matters. What matters this year is my newest title, Moulder of Young Minds.
My expertise of dangerous, intelligent creatures will be passed onto you. This year, we’ll be going
over my books in deeper detail than any reader will ever know.” He smiles at them, his teeth shining
in the light. “Now, for today, I have given a small quiz, just to find out what you all know about the
creatures we’ll be studying.”

He hands out scrolls, patting the shoulders of the girls he passes.

Azalea glances at the scroll she’s given. The first seven questions simply ask what she knows about
each of the creatures mentioned on the title of his books, followed by two asking her to name any
household pests and uncommon creatures that she can think of.

Slowly, she fills out the paper with the scraps of knowledge she had learned last year. A few people,
finished before her, and she follows their lead in standing and handing the Professor her scroll and
being dismissed, grabbing her bag and waiting outside the classroom for Ron to finish.

“Took you long enough.” She says, standing from her sitting position against the wall as he leaves
the classroom.

Ron grimaces. “Yeah, Mom has all of us taking care of the pests, so I knew a lot of those. She’s
actually had his book about it for years.”

“A big fan, then?”

“Oh yeah.” He sighs. “She read the entire collection after we bought it. I swear, not even Hermione
could have finished the books before leaving for school.”

“What can’t I do?” Hermione’s accusing voice catches up with them as she runs to catch up with
them.

“Read nine books in a month.” Azalea supplies happily.

Hermione raises her chin. “The Lockhart collection, then? I read them all before we came to school.
Of course, I have to read them a few more times before I’ve memorized them, but-”

“We get it, Hermione.” Ron interrupts. Azalea rolls her eyes as her two friends start arguing with her
literally in the middle of them.

They get down to the Great Hall quickly, Azalea rolling her eyes before greeting Jack Sloper, one of
the Lions beaters. He leads the conversation, pulling it mainly towards the yearbook that should be
delivered tomorrow, the first friday of the school year. From there, he questions them about their
adventures last year.

When Hermione says she wants to go to the library, the rest of them quickly agree, eager to get away
from someone who was clearly just trying to verify rumours.

“What do you want to study, anyway?” Neville questions as they walk down a quiet hallway.

“I’ll figure that out when we get there.” Hermione answers, nearly causing Azalea to laugh.

They get there quickly, the path still familiar from last year. Hermione disappears to browse, Ron and
Dudley start a game of chess, Neville pulls out his Herbology book, and Azalea quietly pulls out her
book on Occlumency, with a book cover depicting red and gold fireworks covering the questionable
content within.

An hour later, Azalea is frustrated with her lack of understanding with the book. Her mother’s
journal had mentioned her learning both Occlumency and Legilimency with a friend, and she said
that she was progressing quickly. Azalea has been meditating and trying to find her mindscape for
months without any progress.

Hermione stands, taking her book back to the shelves, and Azalea quickly stands to join her.

“I need you to look something up for me.” She pleads quietly. “But it’s like the stone.” Hermione
sighs and nods, boards floating down from the top of the shelves and creating stairs for them to walk
up. “Thank you. It’s called Occlumency. It’s a form of mind magic, but it isn’t exactly something
people smile when you talk about.”

“So, don’t go to Pince and ask for references.” Hermione clarifies.

“Right.” Azalea frowns. “I do have three books on it that are supposed to help beginners, but I just
can’t figure it out.”

“You have them with you?” Hermione asks her, before nodding and answering herself. “Well, you
have at least one of them. The book with the book cover. I’ll read those then see what I can find here
later.”

Azalea smiles at her friend. “You’re the best, Hermione, have I ever told you that?”

***

Potions is Azalea’s last class of the day, and the group enjoys time together before having a dinner
joined by Alicia Spinnet. Ron and Dudley quiz her about Quidditch, learning she had been a Griffin
beater duo with Angelina during her second year, when Katie was still a first year. Azalea listens
with interest, eating with exaggerated motions so nobody could try to say she wasn’t eating.

Dudley leaves dinner early, having to go home and grab his boxing gear before Boxing class.
Hermione watches him leaves bitterly, and Azalea nudges her with her shoulder. “You’ll be going
with him as soon as your parents write back.”

Alicia questions them, and Hermione explains about doing tennis rather than gymnastics, although
her parents have to approve before she can leave castle grounds.

Quickly, Azalea and Alicia head down to the Gryffindor practice pitch, changing before practicing.
Azalea spends the time working on avoiding the bludgers, perfecting how to roll and dive out of the
way.

Time passes unreasonably quickly, as it always does while she’s on a broom, and Azalea relishes the
warmth of the shower in the changing room before heading back to the common room and smiling at
Neville and Hermione, already sitting in their window seat.

Azalea climbs up to her friends, quickly pulling out her three books that were about Occlumency and
Meditation and handing them to Hermione. “Neville, what do you know about Occlumency?” She
asks quietly.

“I know it’s illegal.” He answers quickly, not looking up from his Herbology book. “Not that that
stops most traditional families.”

Hermione tilts her head in their quiet friends direction. “Meaning, you’ve been taught?”

Neville shakes his head, hair moving side to side behind the book that was suddenly covering his
face. “My Gran thought I was a squib until I got my Hogwarts letter, she was never going to teach
me.”

“So she knows?” Hermione asks again. “Why is it illegal?”

Neville sighs and puts down his book, resigning to being involved in the conversation. “I’ve never
asked or looked into it. It’s just one of those things you know growing up traditionally. Why are you
trying to learn about it?”

Hermione shrugs and gestures to Azalea.

Azalea gives her friend a playful glare before explaining about the mysterious books she had got,
pretending all three books came at the same time with a note saying she would need it in the future.

“That’s really dangerous.” Neville berates her. “Did you get anybody to check it for curses, or make
sure the magic wouldn’t hurt you if you tried it?” Azalea shakes her head slowly, being hurt by her
mothers friend seeming impossible. “You should always have someone check anything you don’t
know where it came from.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Azalea agrees. “I’ll be more careful.”

Neville puts his Herbology book in his bag and leans forward, grabbing the book on Meditation from
Hermione’s lap. “I’ll owl Gran, ask her what she knows.”
 Chapter 4

The rest of the first week moves just as quickly as the first two days. Friday, the school flips through
the yearbooks that are delivered at dinner before Azalea joins the Gryffindor Quidditch players for a
workout session led by one of Madam Hooch's assistants. Saturday, the group goes to Hagrid’s after
breakfast, talking until lunch, and then hanging out by the lake until dinner.

Sunday, the second-years watch the Dueling, knowing they’ll have to do it soon.

Azalea’s nerves from the first time she saw the duels returns. The unshakable feeling that this is
wrong and dangerous fills her gut. She tries to force the feeling down as she walks around the
duelling platforms with Dudley.

“You two thinking of signing up for a duel?” Professor Lockhart asks them, blue robes appearing in
front of them suddenly.

“Oh, we aren’t-” Dudley tries to answer.

“It’s really a great system, you won’t be in any danger at all.” The professor cuts him off, ushering
them over to the sign-up parchment. “It works like the official dueling tournament. You sign up for
the first time, and you’re put against the worst person in the league. You beat them, and you’ll go
against the next highest. Lose, and you’ll be considered the lowest, fighting the new people as they
come and trying to beat the person in the rank above you.”

“Professor Lockhart.” A high-pitched voice scolds, and Azalea turns to find Professor Flitwick
walking toward them. “We give our second years a month to learn some dueling spells before they
are required to begin dueling.”

“Of course.” Professor Lockhart gives a charming smile. “I was merely letting them know how the
system works.” He wraps an arm around Azalea’s shoulder, giving her a couple of pats before
turning and walking away.

Professor Flitwick gestures towards the platforms with a smile, and Azalea and Dudley nod and walk
back to the duel they were watching.

Dudley looks at her with a questioning look. “Did you do something to impress Lockhart?” He asks,
causing Azalea to look at him, confused, and shake her head. “Huh. Just seems like he likes you.”

Azalea snorts. “He’s friendly. Watch him, he acts like that with everyone.” Azalea gestures in the
Professors direction with her chin, watching him congratulate a student on their victory with a side-
hug.

***

October breathes frost across the grounds, and suddenly even weekends seem incredibly busy to the
second-years. Quidditch starts with last year's winning house, Hufflepuff, playing Badgers vs. Otters,
and Azalea is forced to sit out in the stands with the Gryffindor players, studying the Hufflepuff
teams and trying not to feel the chill in the wind.

The older students all take the next day off of dueling to watch as the second-years, wearing their
duelling robes for the first time, step up to the platform for the first time. It’s nothing as flashy as the
older students, but slowly they start getting their ranks. When lunch comes around, Azalea’s grinning
and breathing hard, having had enjoyed the sport.
With Hermione and Neville helping her, Azalea manages to slip into her mindscape by the middle of
the month. It takes an hour of meditating for her to reach that state, and she can’t stay in it long, but
Hermione is pleased with the progress.

Before they realize it, they’ve been joining Hagrid and the muggle-raised students in carving giant
pumpkins for a month, and the Halloween dance is happening. It’s a Friday, and all of the students
rush from their last class back to their dorm room to get ready.

Hermione’s dress is yellow, tightly fitting her upper half and then flaring out on the bottom. The
sleeves are about 6 cm wide over her shoulders, crossing each other on her upper back forming an X
over her shoulder blades before connecting back to the dress on the sides. Her back exposed down to
where a jeweled belt wraps around her waist.

Azalea’s dress is a soft blue and form fitting, going down to her mid thigh with sleeves that cover the
entire area between shoulder and neck. Her back is covered only by a soft, thin lace that also covers
the front of the skirt.

Neville helps them put on their jewelry, his simple dress shirt and black pants being paired with a
cloak.

Crookshanks yells at them angrily from Hermione’s bed, and Hermione rolls her eyes and gives her a
can of wet food and a head scratch before the three of them leave the room.

***

“When did you pierce your ears?” Dudley asks her over the music, his hand cupping her ear to give
him a better glimpse of the blue jewel. Azalea bits the inside of her cheek and takes a deep breath.

“Before school.” She answers simply, hurt that he hadn’t noticed before now. “I’ve been wearing
earrings for the past two months, thank you for noticing.” Pulling away from him, Azalea spins to the
other side of their little circle.

The singer stops singing in the song, music going soft, the only lyrics coming through coming from a
cold, mean voice. “ Too much.... No....”

Her skin crawls. “That voice really doesn’t match the song.”

Hermione gives her a questioning look. “What voice? There’s only one singer in this song?” The rest
of the group agrees to not hearing anything, except for Dudley.

“No, I heard him too.” Their dancing slows to a stop. “Something like ‘too much to know,’ right?”
Azalea nods, having heard something along those lines.

Hermione looks between them. “I’ve listened to this song since I was a kid. There’s nothing like
that.”

Azalea shares one long, familiar look with her brother before shrugging. “It was probably nothing.
I’m gonna grab some pumpkin juice.”

“Sounds good, I could use a drink too.” Dudley joins her as she walks away, and the two of them
dodge dancers as they make their way to the snack table. “So what do you think it is?” He asks.

“Something only we can hear? No idea.” She grabs a glass and swipes it over top of the bowl of
pumpkin juice, her cup being filled magically. “Something to do with our Aunt and Uncle?” My
parents. She thinks. “Or the end of last school year.”
“Speaking of that. When can I tell Ron what happened?”

Azalea takes a long sip. “I don’t know. But what happened had to do with who I really am, and I
don’t know if you can explain what happened without telling him the truth.”

“We should tell him the truth.” Dudley looks back at their three friends. “What about Hermione and
Neville. You can’t say you don’t want to tell them.”

“Hermione-” Azalea cuts herself off. Hermione already knows. She wants to say. She’s known
longer than you have. “Of course I want to tell them.” She says instead. “I’ll think about it. But I’m
just not ready yet.” They stand in silence for a moment, the momentary silence between songs
emphasizing the moment.

“What about me?” Dudley says quietly, causing her to pull her eyes from the floating pumpkins to
him. “Why didn’t you tell me about your earrings?”

A bitter part of her wants to complain that earrings aren’t a big deal, but the larger part of her knows
it's not really about the earrings. “It’s not like I’ve been hiding them.” She reasons with him. “I mean,
I’ve been wearing rubies, for Merlin's sake.”

“But you never told me. I didn’t even know you wanted your ears pierced.”

“I didn’t.” She answers quickly. “It was just something I decided when I was shopping with
Hermione. Besides, it’s not like you were there for me to tell. You spent a month away from the
house, did you expect me to just wait around for you to get back?” Her throat is suddenly tight, and
she watches him expectantly as he opens and closes his mouth. Swallowing her last sip, she puts her
cup back onto the table and watches it disappear. “If it makes you feel any better, Dad hasn’t noticed
either.”

Dudley studies her, gripping his glass. “Dad hasn’t known you for twelve years like I have.”

“Eleven.” She answers reflexively. “You’ve known me eleven years.” Tears prick in her eyes, and
she blinks them back. “Tell everyone I went to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

She makes a quick escape, weaving her way through students and out the doors of the Great Hall.
Students are lounging around the hall, escaping the heat and noise that comes with the entire school
dancing in one room. Instead of the bathroom, Azalea walks to a quiet corridor and slides down the
wall, curling up on the floor.

“Are you alright?” An airy voice startles her. Azalea lifts her head from her knees, the first thing she
spots being shoeless feet, toes painted in a nail polish that sparkles with stars. Looking up further,
Azalea recognizes Luna Lovegood, Ginny’s friend.

She clears her throat. “Yes. Yeah, I’m alright. Just, taking a break from the dance. There’s a lot
going on in there, you know, between everyone dancing and the music and the conversations. Plus
there’s Malfoy, who already pissed Ron off by taunting him with the fight from last year. Not that
you’d know about that, since you weren’t here. Except, you’re friends with Ginny, so you might’ve
heard about it...” Azalea trails off, forcing herself to stop rambling. “That’s really pretty nail polish.”

Luna smiles. “Yes, I quite like it. You’re welcome to borrow it, if you wish. Painting has been
known to help sort through thoughts.”

“Oh, no.” Azalea stands slowly, pulling herself up against the uneven wall. “I’ve never even tried it
before.” She gestures back in the direction of the Great Hall, and Luna starts walking, moving with a
slight sway.
“Then I suppose any time is a good time to try.” Luna brushes her worries aside, and Azalea gives a
slight smile, feeling better. “It’s okay not to be.”

Smile faltering, Azalea tries to figure out where the conversation went. “Not to be what?”

“Okay.” Luna looks up at the ceiling of the Hall, where the normal enchanted sky was changed to
match the spirit of Halloween, the moon being turned into a blood moon and bats darting between
clouds. “I was not okay for a long time. It’s not something you need to hide.”

Azalea watches Luna instead of the sky, the flickering of the candle reflecting on her hair, “Thanks.”
She says quietly.

“Luna!” Ginny barrels through dancers, meeting them in the doorway. “I can’t believe you just left
me with Creevy. He’s been jinxed six times by upper-years for taking their pictures. Thankfully,
they’re taking it easy on him and they keep wearing off.”

Knowing how some of the older students can be, Azalea’s shocked that none of them have sent the
kid to the hospital wing yet. “You two can hang out with me, if you want.”

Ginny grimaces. “Thanks, but spending my first Hogwarts dance with my brother? No thanks.”

“Hey, I’ve spent most of my dances with my brother.” Azalea acts hurt, trying not to laugh.

“That’s different, you two are twins. Fred and George spend all their time together, too, but you
don’t see them hanging out with Percy.” Azalea half wants to correct her, since even when she and
Dudley did believe they were siblings, they never thought they were twins, but Ginny snaps her
finger. “Speaking of the twins, they wanted me to ask how they’re supposed to look after you when
you won’t go near them.”

Suddenly convinced the twins are hiding in plain sight, watching her conversation, Azalea studies
the faces in the crowd. “The rumours just stopped, I’m not having them start up again just to talk to
your brothers.”

“That’s why you weren’t invited to the Burrow this summer, you know. Mom didn’t want any of us
to tell you, and she kept making different excused to Dudley, but she had heard the rumours last
year. I don’t think she really believed them, but sex is kind of a big thing in the Wizarding World and
she didn’t want to risk it.” Ginny grabs her hand and pulls them out of the doorway, letting other
student pass them. “Fred and George explained what happened like a million times, but honestly
with them nobody ever knows when they’re telling the truth.”

Azalea gives a bitter laugh. “Funny, they don’t really seem like liars to me.”

***

They head back from Hagrid’s for lunch on Samhain, talking about what happened on this day last
year.

“Can you three try to not get into trouble tonight?” Neville pleads with them with a smile.

Ron disagrees. “No, please, get into trouble. School has been way too boring lately.”

“rip..... tear..... kill.....”

Azalea and Dudley both look around wildly. “What was that?” Azalea asks quietly, trying to find
someone who could have that voice.
“That’s the voice from last night, right?” Dudley responds to her, confusing their friends.

“What voice?” Hermione huffs slightly. “No one said anything.”

Azalea shares a concerned look with her brother, both of them opening their mouths to talk when the
voice talks again.

“So long..... Too hungry.....” The voice gets softer, moving down the hall, and Azalea takes off after
it. “Too hungry.....” It repeats again and again.

“It wants to eat.” Dudley supplies to their friends as he takes off after her. They follow the voice to
the second floor, their friends trailing behind them, concerned.

“Blood..... I smell blood..... I SMELL BLOOD”

Azalea pushes herself to move faster. “It’s going to kill!” She yells to her friends. The voice led them
to the hallway that ends with the History of Magic classroom, and Azalea shoves the door open,
revealing hundred of shining, transparent figures, standing perfectly still. “Woah.” There were more
ghosts together in this one room that Azalea had imagined could possibly be in the castle. “How did
they stay out of our sight last year?”

“The first-year uniforms are charmed to repel them. It’s in Hogwarts: A History.” Hermione says
idly, walking into the room. “What are they all looking at?” All the ghosts are facing the same empty
strip of wall on the side of the room. Azalea follows Hermione as she walks towards it, studying it.
“There’s nothing here.”

“I don’t think anything’s here, either.” Ron says, staring into the eyes of Nearly-Headless Nick, the
Gryffindor house ghost. “They can’t be dead, right? I mean, what could kill a ghost?”

“Nothing good.” Hermione answers. “So let’s get out of here, before whatever it was decides to
come back.” The rest of them agree, and Hermione leads them halfway out the door before coming
to a stop as still as the ghosts behind them.

Eyes not wanting to leave the scene behind them, Azalea turns slowly. “Hermione, what-” She
freezes too, eyes locked onto the wall across from the door.

The Chamber of Secrets has Opened

Enemies of the Heir Beware

“Who the hell would paint-” Ron moves to step forward, only for both Azalea and Dudley to grab
him by the arm.

“It’s not paint.” Dudley says somberly.

“The voice smelled blood.” Azalea explains, causing their three friends to go pale.

They stand together, staring at the wall. “What do we do?” Neville questions, voice shaking.

Ron grabs Dudley and Neville by the arm. “We leave. Trust me, we don’t want to be found here.”

Nobody has the time to move. A small man with a wide smile flies down the hall, passing through
them into the room behind them. “Hello Ghosties!” Azalea spins to watch the strange man flit around
the room. “Ghosties?” He settles down cross-legged in front of a severe-looking ghost covered in a
shining liquid before turning towards Azalea and her friends. “Oooooh, Dumbly’s not gonna like
this.” He sings, flying through them again to leave the room, only to stop halfway through Hermione
and causing her to jerk back when he spots the writing on the wall. “Secrets? Secrets! What fun!”
cackles, doing a flip and flying down the hall.

“We need to find a Professor, now.” Hermione tells them sternly. “If he tells them we were here and
we didn’t try to get help, they’ll think we had something to do with it.”

Azalea nods her agreement, and the the group starts running, heading down the stairs to the Great
Hall. “Who do we get?” She asks as they get to the door.

“Someone you trust.” Ron answers, and the five of them split up. Azalea heads to the potions table,
stopping in front of Professor Snape.

“Professor.” She gasps, trying to catch her breath while talking. “The ghosts are frozen, and then
there’s this paint that’s not really paint, Ron only thought it was paint, but-”

“Breathe, Miss Dursley.” The Professor drawls, setting his fork down onto his plate. “And explain,
slowly.”

Azalea takes a second to catch her breath, glancing at her friends, scattered around the Professors
tables. “There’s something wrong with the ghosts. And there’s this writing on the wall- a warning.
Written in blood. Talking about something called the Chamber of Secrets.”
 Chapter 5

The school vibrates with rumours about the Chamber of Secrets, and the Heir. The History Professor
that was hired to take Binns position, Marcus Aldebrandi, takes advantage of the buzz and teaches
about the history of the school, including the legend of Salazar Slytherin’s hidden chamber.

“The school was founded in a time where magic was widely known, and even more widely feared.
Magic users were hunted down, and so the founders built this far away from Muggle eyes, and
warded it so no Muggles could ever find it. They would find any child who showed signs of magic
and bring them here to learn to control their abilities. However, the four founders were not always in
agreement about who should be able to study.”

“They disagreed from the start about what type of person should study. Rowena Ravenclaw thought
people who would expand the boundaries of magic were the only ones worth teaching, while Godric
Gryffindor was only interested in people who had the heart of a warrior, ready to fight against those
who did things he saw as evil. Salazar Slytherin wanted to protect magical traditions, prefering to
have a small amount of people who can survive together rather than expanding and changing the
way things were done. Helga Hufflepuff, however, would take in any student that wanted to learn,
leading to her having more Muggle-born students than the other three founders combined.”

“In that time of fear and distrust, that decision was not a popular one. Legend says that Salazar in
particular believed magic should be taught only to magical-raised children, and he build a hidden
chamber somewhere in the school as muggle-born populations began to rise. The other founders
knew nothing, and as the disagreements got worse, he is said to have hatched some sort of monster
that could purge the school of those he considered unworthy to study magic.”

The Italian man stands in front of his captivated audience. “Then came the famous fallout between
the founders, with Salazar being all but chased from the school. They say he sealed the chamber so
that only his bloodline would one day be able to open it, and purge the school like he was unable to.”
He pauses, glancing over the second-year class, before shrugging. “Now, of course all of this is only
rumour and legend, and none of it has ever been confirmed. Multiple Headmasters have searched the
entire school, never finding trace of any chamber or monster.”

“But, Sir.” Seamus Finnigan interrupts, raising his hand slightly as he speaks. “If only his heir could
open it, none of the Headmasters would have been able to find it, right? I mean, blood magic was
still legal back then, and that’s nearly impossible to break through.”

Professor Aldebrandi smiles as Finnigan, waggling his finger enthusiastically in his direction. “Five
points to Gryffindor for a great point, which leads to my next point. Salazar Slytherin is said to have
never had a child of his own. He found a wife after leaving the school, and they spent many years
together before trying to have a child. Tragically, his wife and son both died during childbirth,
driving him down a very dark path. So how, I ask you, could his bloodline have lived on to open the
chamber today if he never had a child?”

Pansy Parkinson leans back in her seat. “There’s nothing saying it has to be a blood-relative. If a
bloodline dies, the Slytherin magic would simply have chosen a new heir.” A chill runs down her
back as Azalea remembers that she’s technically the Heir of Slytherin. If Dudley wasn’t also related
to the founders, Azalea would assume that magic had chosen her, but she has to be related to them
by blood.

A Ravenclaw argues. “There’s also the rumours that Godric was pregnant with Salazar’s child when
he was chased from the castle.”
“Wait.” Hermione raises her hand, turning in her seat to face the Ravenclaw. “How would he have
been pregnant? They’re both men.”

“That small fact won’t stop wizards. Rumours say they were lovers for years, and Godric had tested
one of his students potions, which turned out to be the first successful gender-swap potion. The two
of them decided to find out what the sex was like, but since they weren’t used to birth-control
methods Godric ended up getting pregnant.”

The Professor watches the Ravenclaw curiously. “In all my studies, I’ve never heard of that rumour.
Where’d you read about that?”

“The potions journals of the student, sir. He was an ancestor of mine, and I found the journals in my
family vault before I started school.”

“Fascinating. And your name is?”

“Anthony Goldstein, Sir.”

***

They eat a quick lunch, accompanied by Oliver, before Azalea they go get started on their History
homework, a sentence that had probably not been said in Hogwarts since Binns died.

They don’t need the library, so the five of them walk the halls until they find an empty study room
and set it to three Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs. The four walls are made of white chalkboard, the
inside of the glass table in the middle of the room filled with hundreds of different colored drawing
chalks. Five chairs surround the table, large and plush. Azalea claims one of the scarlet chairs, and
they get settled in, pulling out parchment and quills A large piece of gold-painted wood settles down
on her lap, and Azalea sets her stuff down on it.

“So, we’re just.... writing a story?” Ron questions the group, staring at his paper. “About something
our house’s founder could have done, but didn’t?”

Hermione huffs, as if the fact that he didn’t understand the assignment was a personal assault on her.
“You’re creating a historical recollection of a fictional event. It’s not a ‘story.’”

Azalea disagrees, feeling that it’s definitely just writing a story, but instead of voicing her opinion she
pulls the ink bottle the Professor had given her. “And why do we have to write it in our houses main
colour?” She asks.

Hermione breathes out a mix between a sigh and a huff, her quill already dipped into her ink as she
gets ready to start working. “Well, we’re learning about the school’s history, right? And a lot of that
history is lost, only put together by rumours and stories that were passed down through families.
There’s hardly any original copies left in the world. So that’s probably what’s he’s going for. People
from the other houses are probably going to rewrite them, and we’ll be shown the difference between
the original and final copy.”

Dudley leans forward, his elbows planting themselves on the black slab of wood covering his lap.
“He’s trying to tell us not to listen to the rumours, right? They might have been really changed since
they started, right?”

“What, like the rumours about the Heir of Slytherin?” Ron slouches back, getting comfy in his chair,
the empty page of homework in front of him forgotten. “It’s not too unbelievable, you know? Every
bad witch or wizard in the past two hundred years has been from Slytherin, and they have a history
going back a lot longer than that with using Dark Magic.”
“Dark Magic?” Dudley asks. “I haven’t heard of that.”

“They start teaching about it in fifth year. Dark Magic is banned by the ministry because it can be
really dangerous. Some of the objects Dad goes after have been enchanted with it, and if Dad isn't
real careful he can be sent to St. Mungo’s.”

Neville puts his quill down, jumping into the conversation. “A lot of what the Ministry has called
Dark Magic isn’t even dark, they just banned it because it was strong magic and they wanted to
control who could use it. Dark Magic used to be classified as magic that either comes with a price or
magic that is addictive to use.”

“You seem like you know a lot about it, Nev.” Hermione remarks.

Neville shrugs. “Gran likes to go on rants about things she cares about.”

Ron puffs up slightly. “Even if what’s considered Dark today wasn’t always Dark, it’s still wrong to
use it. Besides, I thought we we’re talking about Slytherin.” Neville nods, seemingly happy with
changing the subject, and Ron continues. “Not all Slytherins are bad, obviously, but all the families
that have had generations only in Slytherin are known to be at least a little dark. Most are really
dark.”

“Wait, so if you use Dark Magic, your family gets considered a dark family? So, what are the others
considered light families?” Hermione scowls.

“Well, no.” Ron blinks, clearly not having had thought of that before. “If you don’t use Dark Magic,
you’re just a normal Wizard. It’s when you do use it that you-”

“So, there’s Muggle-borns and Dark Magic users. Is there anything else your kind are prejudiced
about?” Hermione doesn’t wait for an answer. She grabs her stuff and jams it into her bag, storming
out of the room.

Azalea debates following after her friend for a second while the guys stare after her, before deciding
to give her some time to cool off before finding her.

“What was that all about?” Ron turns to Azalea for answers and she shrugs uselessly, causing him to
scowl. “Girls, I swear. All I was trying to say was the Heir of Slytherin opening some dark chamber
in the school is probably the truth.”

Something that had been building in Azalea’s gut since the History class snapped, and she fights
back a growl. “Look, it’s not the Heir of Slytherin, all right? Unless you’re accusing me of
paralyzing the ghosts.”

Rons scowl turns into a confused frown. “Why would I be accusing you? You’re a muggle-born.”

“I’m a half-blood, actually. Daughter of Lily Evans and James Potter. Turns out, Dudley’s my
cousin, and our mothers bloodline descends from the founders. All four founders, including Salazar
Slytherin.” Azalea finds herself breathing hard, and she gathers her things shakily while the guys
watch her with stunned eyes. The wood floats off of her lap and she stands. “Look, Dudley knows
all about it. Just... ask him.”

Thankfully, Hermione is the only one she shares her next class, Charms, with. They sit together
quietly, both still wound up. The only communication they have is a single note passed between
them near the end of the class, when Azalea had let her head clear a little.

Told them about my parents. If Dud or Ron ask, I told you before class.
Hermione reads it and writes a check mark on it before going back to taking notes.

***

Life goes on as normal for the rest of the week, and Azalea finds herself in the middle of her team,
listening to Oliver go over their game plan one last time.

“Anyone confused?” He asks, flicking his wand down and letting his drawing float into his case.

Angelina rolls her eyes. “You’re been going over these plans since we saw Slytherins brooms. We
can all recite them in our sleep.”

Azalea smiles through her nerves while the team pumps themselves up. They’re a good team, and
they won their first game of the season against Ravenclaws Ravens, but this is still only her second
game and it’s against Slytherins Serpents. They had assumed Malfoy had bought his way onto the
team when he bought all the Slytherin players new brooms, but in the Serpent/Scorpion game last
weekend Malfoy had seemed pretty competent.

Katie squeezes her shoulder in encouragment and the team are called out onto the pitch, Lee
announcing their names and positions. The Scorpions are waiting for them, their green brooms
proudly displayed.

The two teams stand in position, facing their direct opposition. Malfoy and Azalea are together at the
end of the line, and Malfoy gives Azalea a cruel smirk as the first whistle is blown and the Keepers
take flight, making their way to the goalposts. “Scared, Dursley?” He taunts her.

The hundred of times he and Ron argued in the hallway lets Azalea’s nerves fall away, the
familiarity of the situation calming her. “Of what, Malfoy? I can out-fly you any day.” Another
whistle is blown and the chasers fly into the air.

“With my teams brooms, you’ll be lucky to even spot the snitch before you’re too far behind to win.”
Malfoy gloats, his voice slightly drowned out by Lee announcing that the Quaffle is in play.

Azalea rolls her eyes. “If you were going to buy your way to winning, you should’ve probably
bought the best brooms for each position, rather than buying everyone seekers brooms.” The third
whistle blows, and the beaters take off, leaving the two seekers on the ground.

Malfoy tracks the beaters with his eyes. “What would a mudblood like you know about Quidditch
brooms?” He spits at her once they’re in the game.

Lee announces that the bludgers are released, and Azalea mounts her broom. “I know that you’re
going down, Malfoy.” She says fiercely, waiting for the whistle to let them into the game.

She stops focusing on Malfoy as soon as her feet are off the ground. The snitch isn’t released until
twenty minutes into the game, and Azalea takes a few bludger hits to help her team score. She’s
going to be covered in bruised by the end of the game, but if they can beat the Serpents she knows
it’ll be worth it. Nothing a bruise salve can’t fix.

Lee announces that the snitch has been released, and Azalea flies above her team, scanning the pitch
and keeping an eye on Malfoy. Gryffindor is pulling ahead, meaning he will be trying to find the
snitch soon to give his team the win.

She spots him as he pulls above the action, head spinning slowly as he looks for the snitch. Making
sure to keep him in her sight, Azalea circles the pitch, waiting for the misty-white ball to catch her
attention.
When she finally sees it, Malfoy’s the same distance away from it as she is. She stills, eyes on the
goalpost it’s next to, and he freezes, eyes locked onto her, and she curses herself. She should have
known he was watching her as close as she was watching him. Forcing herself to look away from
the snitch, she dives down, acting as though the snitch is between them on the ground. He follows
her about halfway down before pulling back, having not seen anything. As soon as he stops diving,
Azalea uses her momentum to flip and fly towards the pitch. The snitch is still there, and by the time
Malfoy catches on to what she’s done she’s almost there.

It kicks into action when she gets close, but she’s been following the Gryffindor practice snitch’s for
over a year, and she catches up to it, catching it before it gets away.

***

The next day, Gryffindor is still feeling the high of victory. Upper-year students Azalea’s never met
before clap her on the back as they pass her, congratulating her for finishing the game.

She’s still smiling when the tables disappear and the dueling platforms appear. Professor Lockhart
jumps onto one of the platforms. “I understand there are a lot of rumours going around about what
has happened earlier this week.” He addresses them. “And so we are putting special emphasis on
two spells this week. The two things you can do when faced with an attacker are stop the attack or
protect yourself from being hurt. So we want you to make sure you perfect those two spells today-
Expelliarmus and Protego. Disarming and Shielding.” He smiles at them. “Of course, you’re in no
danger here at the school. But being able to protect yourself is the best way to make yourself feel
safe.”

The second-years head to the part of the hall that they use, and Professor Lockhart and Professor
Jessica Castle, the second-year charms professor, teaches them the movements used for the spells and
where to aim while the other professors set up the duelling schedule.

Azalea is fighting in the first group, and her friends follow her to the platform with her name floating
above it, next to the name of her opponent.

“Malfoy.” Ron growls, watching the blond. “Do me a favor and hit him in the chest.”

She give a soft laugh and steps onto the platform, sliding her wand out of her arm holster confidently.
Professor Castle stands off of the side of the platform. “First one to disarm their opponent to the point
where that can’t retrieve their wand wins. Disarm and Shield charms only. Whenever you’re ready.”

Azalea walks to the center of the platform, mirrored by her opponent. “Scared, Malfoy?” She echoes
his words from last night back to him.

He glares at her. “I have no reason to be.”

They put their wands down to their sides, turning and walking back to their starting positions. Azalea
stands sideways, her wand by her side facing Malfoy, and nods at the professor, ready to start.

The edges of the stage light up, signalling the start, and Azalea throws a quick shield charm up.
Malfoys disarm flies at her and she ducks to the side, the spell hitting her shield and making it shatter.
She throws the spell at him and he throws up a shield confidently. Her first hit cracks his shield, and
she sends two more, cracking the shield some more before breaking it. As soon as his shield is down
he moves to attack, and she throws up another shield, this time in the middle of the platform. As his
attack hits the shield, she drops the spell and sends the disarming spell, hitting him square in the
chest.
The force of the spell throws him backward, flipping him backward into the shield that surrounds the
platform. “Aim for the wrist, Miss Dursley.” Professor Castles voice rings in her ears, and Azalea
nods, breathing hard from the force she had put into the spell.

Malfoy pushes himself to his feet and scowls at her. “Serpensortia!” He yells, and a snake bursts
from the end of his wand as she puts up the shield spell reflexively. The snake, almost two feet long,
makes it way towards her menacingly, it’s spike-like scales scratching against the floor. Malfoy
throws another disarming spell at her, probably hoping she’d be distracted by the snake.

Azalea smiles, putting more effort into the shield. “ Stop.” She tells the snake. “ I was told that you
cannot hurt a speaker.” The snake stops moving, curling itself up and raising it’s head a foot and a
half off of the ground.

“I was created to attack the enemy of the one who created me.” It gestures its head back towards
Malfoy, who was watching her with shocked eyes.

“Expelliarmus!” Azalea aims the spell for the wrist and ends up hitting partway down his arm. His
wand flies out of his hand, landing to the side of her instead of in her grip, but still ending the battle.
“The fight you were made to help with is done.” She tells the yellow snake. “Do you have a home
to go to?”

The snake shakes its head. “I was created from nothing. If my fight is over, I am to go back to
nothing.”

Azalea nods slowly, getting down to the snakes level. “Then it’s time to go.” She tells it, watching
as it lays back down and curls into a pile before disappearing just as rapidly as it was created.

She looks up to see that the room had come to a stop, every set of eyes on her. Unsure of what is
going on, Azalea steps down from the platform into her group of friends. “What’s going on?” She
asks quietly, heartbeat starting to pick up speed.

Ron grabs her hand and pulls on her. “Let’s go.” He says urgently. “Now.” Azalea lets him pull her
out of the room, only looking back once to see that Neville had both Dudley and Hermione by the
arm, heading after them. They don’t stop moving until they’re a couple of hallways away from the
Great Hall. “What were you thinking? And why didn’t you tell us?”

Azalea’s confusion grows. “Why didn’t I tell you what? All I did was use a magical gift. We learned
about those last year. Everybody has a unique magical gift that comes out as they grow up.”

“Azalea, Parseltongue is a rare magical gift.” Neville explains calmly. “Most of the parselmouths that
people know of were terrible people. They say it’s the mark of a bad wizard.”

Hermione jumps in. “Not just any terrible people. You-Know-Who was a parselmouth.”

“How can it be bad or rare if ‘Lee and I both have it?” Azalea asks, gesturing towards Dudley.

Ron lets out a frustrated groan. “That’s what I was trying to say! The first parselmouth that we know
of is Salazar Slytherin. It was his family magic.”

Azalea can feel a hole where her stomach had been a second ago. “So everybody’s going to know
now?”

Neville shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It can be a gift you get even if you’re not related. As long
as nobody finds out Dudley has it too, then nobody will know for sure.”
“But they’re still going to think it.” Azalea looks between her friends worriedly. “They’re going to
think I’m the Heir of Slytherin, and that I’ve released a monster from a hidden chamber in the
school.”
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Mild sexual assault warning, if there is such a thing.

“And remember to read the second chapter of ‘Break with a Banshee ’ before class! We’ll be
covering the marks of a Banshee attack. Miss Dursley, if you wouldn’t mind staying for a few
minutes.”

Azalea can feel the suspicious gazes from the other students as they pack up their books and she
nods. “I’ll meet you at lunch.” She tells Ron, and he gives her a reassuring smile before moving with
the rest of the class out the door. “Yes, sir?” She asks, moving to the desk at the front of the room.

Professor Lockhart sits on his desk, relaxing. “I just thought I should check in with you after Sunday.
Getting your gift revealed like that is always nasty business, and having one so many people deem
evil....”

“It happen to you?” Azalea asks, somewhat bitter, before going red in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t’ve asked, I know asking about gifts is really personal.”

Her professor smiles at her. “Nonsense, you’re free to ask me anything. My gift is nothing fancy. Are
you aware of how living portraits are made?” Azalea shakes her head that she doesn’t, following him
as he gets up from the desk and walks towards one of his many portraits. “Neither did I, for a long
time. They’re connected to the object painted in them, learning all of their memories up to the time
that the portrait was completed. When I graduated, I went to get my first portrait done and learned of
my gift - I don’t have to give the paintings all of my memories. I can pick and choose. This portrait
here has every detail from my time in Wagga Wagga. I get one done after every adventure so I have
a way to recall any details that might slip from my mind.” He turns, holding her softly by the
shoulder and leading her back to the front desk. “But, this conversation is about you, not me or my
gift, however helpful it can be. How are you doing? I know how bad publicity can make you feel.”

Azalea scoffs. “I doubt you’ve ever had anything bad said about you.”

“I have, but that’s not what we are talking about. Mister Malfoy is the one you were duelling, yes?
How has he been acting, I don’t believe he so much as looked at you during class.”

Unable to do anything but roll her eyes, Azalea grudgingly answers. “Malfoy’s always been a git.
He and Ron don’t get along, and since I’m friends with Ron I end up in the middle of a lot of the
arguments.”

“And the rumours?” He questions.”What do you feel about those?”

“Me and my friends know the truth.” She answers slowly, not wanting to think about how the
rumours that she is the Heir of Slytherin are technically right. “The team seems like they’re on my
side, too. The rest of the school just seems....”

“Wary?” Her professor supplies for her. He sits back down and grabs her shoulder. “Don’t worry
about them. Odds are, nothing else is going to happen and the warning was just a stunt pulled by an
older student who thinks it’s a great prank.” Azalea’s mind flashes to Fred and George before
quickly deciding that they wouldn’t do something to scare everyone so badly. “My advice is to keep
yourself occupied until this all blows over.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder again, pulling her slightly closer to him. “If you need someone to
talk to that’s dealt with a lot of bad press before, I’m always willing to chat.” The door opens and
Professor Lockhart drops his hand quickly, giving a charming smile to the older black-and-yellow
clad student. “Remember what I said, Miss Potter. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have scheduled a
tutoring session with Miss Bowman here.”

Azalea nods. “Of course, sir. Thank you.” She says sincerely before heading out the door to join her
friends in the Great Hall for lunch. She takes small detours on her way, avoiding the main walkways
in a small effort to avoid distrustful stares.

“Well if it isn’t Azalea Dursley.” A guys voice cuts through the casual scuttling of the castle.
“Haven’t seen you since Wood announced the teams line-ups.” Cormac McLaggen walks towards
her from a side hallway with a slight sway in his step. “Heard all about you, though. Big castle, but I
don’t think anyone could avoid hearing about you if they tried.”

She gives him a ghost of a smile, trying to hide her confusion at his friendliness. She had gotten the
impression that he didn’t like her since she took his spot as seeker on the Lions and made him play
with the Griffins, which is widely known to be Gryffindors B-team. “Nothing good, I’d guess.”

The look he gives her raises her confusion. “I don’t know, some of it sounded pretty good to me.”
He walks closer than she expected, and something in her wants to back away. She stands still as he
stops half a step in front of her, looking up and down the hall. “What are you doing wandering the
halls alone? I thought you always had some form of company .” He emphasizes the last word with
some hidden meaning she doesn’t understand, and her stomach twists. She hates not knowing what
people are talking about.

“Not always.” She responds briskly. “I stayed after class. My friends are waiting for me in the Great
Hall. I should probably get to them. It was nice seeing you again, McLaggen.”

As she turns to walk away, his hand darts out and lands on her waist. “No need to run off.” He tells
her, using her waist to pull her back. Instinctually, she pulls back away from him, making it a step
before her back hits the rough castle walls, her cloak protecting her bare arms from getting scrapped.
She curses herself for putting her button-up shirt in her bag. She would happily have been a little
uncomfortably warm in Defense if it meant not wearing just a tank top right now. “I’m sure your
friends won’t mind if you’re a little late. All you have to say is you got distracted seeing a friend.”
His hand that was on her waist follows her, landing on the wall by her side. His other hand traces her
hairline, and she stares him down, refusing to show anything but determination on her face. “Let me
guess, you stayed after with Professor Lockhart. That can’t have lasted very long.”

“I don’t think if we can be called friends.” She steels her voice, trying to tell him to back off through
her tone. “We’ve hardly ever talked. I should really get going, McLaggen.”

The third-year gives her a soft sigh, tilting his head and moving his hand to trace the side of her neck.
“Again with calling me McLaggen. You can call me Cormac, you know. We can be friends.” The
ghost of his breath gets stronger on her face as her covers the rest of the gap between them, grabbing
her wrists as she moves to push him away. He pins one of her hands by her shoulder, smashing her
knuckles into the stone, while the other gets forced down by her side. “We could be so much more
than friends. And your twins don’t even have to know.”

“No.” She growls, trying to shove her racing heart back down from her throat. “Let me go. Now.”
McLaggen stares her down with disappointed eyes. “Now, now, now. Don’t be like that. We’ll have
a great time together.”

“I’m serious, McLaggen. I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” He mocks her. “Hex me? You have your wand in your wand holster, right? Right.....
here.” He shifts his body, using his leg to hold her arm against the wall while he moves her other arm
away from the wall, one hand holding her wrist tight while the other runs his hand over her
disillusioned holster. She keeps her eyes on his, trying to think of anything other than his crotch,
pressed hard against her hip. “You need to flick your wrist to get your wand, and you can’t do that
right now.”

Slowly, he pulls both of her arms above their heads, pinning them together against the wall with his
right hand, keeping that side of his body pressed against her, his left leg crossing the front of her
body, pinning her free leg. His left hand reclaims its spot low on her hip, slowly moving around and
exploring her body.

Azalea turns her face away from his, struggling to breathe as his breath is forced on her trembling
body. Trying to think, she scans the hall, hoping to find anything. Her eyes land on a small cut in the
wall that reminds her of a snake, and she stares at it. “ Let me go.” She orders him again, hoping the
indent looked enough like a snake to trigger her parseltongue. She feels like she can hear a slight
hissing tone to her words. “ I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Instead of being intimidated, like she hoped he would, he moans against her neck, leaning his head
down so his lips were ticking her skin as he pushes his lower body against her. “That’s so hot.” He
tells her. “The way your tongue moves around.” Demonstrating what he was talking about, he flicks
his tongue out and lashes it across her skin, his hand moving its exploration up, grasping at her chest.
Azalea reacts to his movements the Muggle way, raising her knee up with all the force her gymnastic
coaches have taught her to throw into her movements.

At the same time, a cold voice cuts through the air. “I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be
above molesting girls in the hallway.” Azalea uses her sudden freedom to move away from
McLaggen, moving towards the two second-year girls dressed in green and silver.

“You bit-” She hears from behind her, the words being cut off as one of the girls throws a stunning
spell at him.

“You’ve done enough damage.” She says, the same cold voice as before.

Azalea looks back at him, easily spotting the wand in his hand. “Thanks.” She says shakily, realizing
this girl just stopped her from getting hexed. “I don’t know what he would have done-”

“You don’t need to know.” The other girl assures her, holding out her hand. “I’m Tracey Davis.”
Azalea gives a small smile, shaking the offered hand, giving a small grimace of pain as her scraped-
up hand gets squeezed.

The other girl holds out her hand as well, grabbing her hand instead of shaking it and positioning her
palm to face the ground. Confused, Azalea keeps her hand still as the Slytherin briskly opens a
container and spreads a small layer of salve over her scraped skin. “Daphne Greengrass.” She offers,
capping her salve and returning it to her bag. “You should wash that off before eating. And, you
probably shouldn’t walk empty corridors by yourself.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” She feels off-put by the girls cold exterior. “I’m Azalea Dursley. Nice to meet
you.”
Davis smiles at her kindly. “I’m sure it would have been nice to meet anyone right now. Who is he,
anyway?”

“Cormac McLaggen. I took his spot on the Quidditch team. He must’ve been a lot more upset than-”

“It’s not your fault.” Both girls echo together, as though it was a rehearsed answer. Davis smirks
before continuing. “He’s the one who did it. Nothing you did caused it.”

Azalea nods. “Right.” She answers automatically. “I need to tell Oliver.”

“Boyfriend?” Greengrass asks.

“Quidditch Captain.” Azalea responds. “McLaggen is seeker to the Griffins.”

“This isn’t gonna get him kicked off the team, if that’s what you want.” Davis tells her, Greengrass
moving past her to study McLaggen’s frozen body. “If you tell a Professor, he might get one
detention. A captain might make him sit out a few practices. But most likely, all he’ll get is a stern
talk.”

Azalea watches Daphne study his face. “What if he tries with someone else.” She asks quietly.

“That probably won’t be a concern. By dinner, every girl in school will know to stay away from
him.”

The three of them stay quiet for a few beats, Azalea’s gaze moving from Greengrass towards the
wall, locking on the cut in the wall that helped her speak parseltongue. Now that she moved closer to
it, she can see that it is actually a small carving of a snake. She moves a few steps towards it quietly,
her fingertips tracing the snake that was no longer than two fingernails in length. “ Thanks.” She
whispers to it quietly, unsure as to why she is bothering when the parseltongue didn’t even help.

“We’re not saying you shouldn’t tell anyone, you know.” Davis tells her, distracting her from the
carving. “We’re just saying it won’t do as much as you want it to.” Azalea nods at the girl, turning
her head back to the snake, giving it another glance before heading to the closest bathroom.

***

Her name is called by two different groups as soon as she walks through the doorway and she nods
at her friends at the Hufflepuff table, giving them a small wave before walking over to where her
team is huddled around a table. “What’s up, Oliver?” She asks, glancing over her team members,
them acknowledging her arrival before their attention is pulled back to the table. Her gaze lingers on
Oliver, wishing that telling him about Cormac would do anything at all.

Oliver hands her a picture with a grin and a clap on the shoulder of a beaming Colin Creevey.
“Turns out Creevey here is actually pretty good with a camera.” Azalea smiles at the first-year and
looks at the picture. The team is walking on the pitch in a line, their brooms sitting on their shoulders.
Realization hits her that the table that her teammates are so focused on are covered in pictures of the
latest Quidditch game.

“Can I buy a copy of this one?” She asks the young photographer.

“Buy?” Colin gapes at her before shaking his head animatedly. “No, you can just have it. I still have
the original film, I can make myself another one. You really want it?”

Azalea fights back the urge to just accept his offer. “If you’re good at something, you should get paid
for it.” She says confidently. “That’s something my Dad tells Dudley and I a lot.” He also tells them
to take advantage if someone doesn’t know how the value of their work, but that goes against the
chivalry and honor that Gryffindor is all about.

“She’s right.” Oliver backs her up. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, you don’t have to charge much.
Maybe just a sickle a photo. I’m sure most of the school’s Quidditch players would pay for some
pictures of them playing.” Katie, Angelina, and Alicia quickly chime in that there’s quite a few
pictures they’d like to buy as well. Colin continues to look shocked, but the team quickly comes up
with the idea to write their names on the back of the pictures they’d like a copy of.

By the time she joins her friends at the Hufflepuff table, they’ve almost finished eating. Azalea gives
a quick explanation about Colin, before letting Hermione take the reins of the conversation while
putting a plate together, her stomach churning at the idea of eating after her altercation in the hallway
with McLaggen.

“You’ve just had defense, right? Do we actually practice anything we learned from the ‘ Guide to
Household Pests ’ or are we just moving on to the next book?” Hermione has an intense look in her
eyes, continuing to talk before Azalea can respond. “Although, he did tell us to read the first chapter.
He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t having us cover it together in class.”

“First chapter.” She confirms quickly, knowing it’s only going to rile Hermione up more.

Hermione breathes out an exasperated huff. “If he’s never going to teach us how to actually cast the
spells, then how are we supposed to learn?”

Ron shrugs, sharing a bewildered look with Dudley. “I figured you would’ve taught yourself by
now. If he doesn’t teach us, it can’t be on the exam, so what do I need to know for?”

“Ron, just because it won’t be on a test doesn’t mean-” Hermione trails off, the glint of an idea in her
eyes. “Teaching ourselves. Ron you’re brilliant! Why don’t we host a study group where we focus
on the spellwork for defense?”

It’s Neville and Azalea’s turn to share a confused look. “Because none of us know how to cast the
spells?” Neville offers softly.

Not able to be dissuaded, Hermione argues. “People learn movements and incantations from books
all the time. If we learn those ahead of time, and then get together to make sure nothing goes wrong
while we practice, nothing will go wrong.” She looks between them all, clearly seeing their
hesitation. “Come on, think of how much better at duelling you could get with more spells.”

“Okay, but where would we practice?” Azalea asks, being pulled into the idea. “I mean, some of
those spells can be pretty physical, and I don’t really wanna be beat up outside of Quidditch and
Dueling.”

“One of the study rooms?” Dudley offers.

Hermione makes another disagreeing noise. “I doubt those rooms are made for spell practice. We
could try it, but it would probably be a better option to just use an empty classroom.”

Still unwilling to agree, Ron frowns. “Even if you do know where we can go, when? We’re always
in class as it is.”

“Free period Wednesday mornings.” Hermione answers with zero hesitation. “It’s supposed to be a
study time anyway.” Azalea is a little disappointed by that, since that free time is the only time she
gets to do any gymnastics anymore, but she’s sure the spells she’ll learn will make her just as happy.
They spend another ten minutes in the dining hall, Azalea playing with her food, before they all
leave to find something to do until their later class. In the end, they sit on one side of the floating
bonfires in the Gryffindor common room, Ron coaching Dudley and Azalea in wizards chess as
Neville and Hermione read through their notes from Lockhart's class, writing down all of the spells
that they learned about so far before looking through their other books for incantations and wand
movements.

Azalea feels a lot calmer after the time spent with her friends, and she heads off down towards the
potions corridor in a good mood.

An arm wraps around her shoulder, and Azalea startles hard. Katie gives her a comforting smile.
“Sorry. Should’ve announced myself first.”

Azalea gives a small, relieved laugh. “You’re okay. Nerves are just a little high today.”

Her words are answered with a much more somber smile. “So you’ve already been told, then?”

“Been told what?” She asks quickly, brain jumping to the worst. Another attack by the Heir of
Slytherin.

“Some girl’s been assaulted by McLaggen.” She answers quietly, removing her arm from around
Azalea’s shoulder and pulling them off to the side of the corridor. “Probably a younger student, since
he’s only a third-year. I really hope it wasn’t a first-year. Can you imagine, something like that
happening in your first few months of Hogwarts.”

“Um, no.” Azalea answers slowly. “That would’ve really sucked.”

Katie gives her a questioning look. “Wait, so if you hadn’t been told what’s got you so worked up?”

Debating for a long second, Azalea talks before she can talk herself out of it. “I knew about it, I just
didn’t know if was such common knowledge by know.”

“Common knowledge?” Katie repeats, a processing look on her face. “So you knew.... before.... It
was you? You’re the girl?”

“Do you have to say it so loudly?” Azalea looks around, glad that the passing students don’t seem to
be paying them much attention. “Yes, yes it was me. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Katie watches her with wide eyes. “Everyone is convinced it was a Slytherin. I didn’t even
consider... Are you okay?”

“A little shaken up, but yeah, I’m fine. And some Slytherins found out, their the ones that started
telling people about McLaggen. Probably why people think it was a Slytherin.” She looks up and
down the corridor, avoiding the look that Katie is giving her. “Look, I gotta get to class. You can tell
Oliver, I wanted to anyway, but I really don’t want anyone else to know. You’re the only one I’ve
told.”

“Wait, you haven’t told Dudley?”

“He freaked when he found out I kissed Padma last year, if he found out about this I don’t know
what he’d do. Hopefully, he’ll never find out.” Azalea shrugs, desperate to get away. “I really gotta
go. We can talk later.” She walks away quickly, only slowing down once she turns out of sight.

The stinging of her nails cutting into her palm calms her down by the time she reaches her potions
classroom. She stands just inside the doorway, looking at her normal spot with trepidation. Without
any friends in the class, she’s been sitting next to a Ravenclaw boy, and after this afternoon she
doesn’t know how well we’ll handle it.

While she’s watching the table, a Slytherin boy slides into her usual spot, giving her a sharp nod and
refusing to greet the Ravenclaw at all. Confused, she scans the room for the Slytherins usual table.
Sitting alone, Davis raises her eyebrow and nods towards the empty seat next to her. Azalea tries to
hide her smile, moving to the offered seat and claiming it as her own.

“You didn’t have to do this for me.” She says quietly.

Tracy smirks. “If you want to go sit next to the boy, feel free. I just figured you could use a day or
two. Besides, I saw you panicking in the doorway.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asks, pulling her things together to get ready for class. “I
mean, there’s the whole Gryffindor-Slytherin thing. And we’ve never even talked before.”

“You seem like you could use someone. And, from what I’ve noticed, you’re not exactly popular
with your housemates. I don’t believe an outcast Gryffindor counts in the rivalry.”

She wants to be hurt by it, but she can’t help but agree.

***

Azalea forces herself to eat a small dinner before practice that evening. As expected, Oliver is
waiting for her in the entrance to the pitch.

“You should have told me.” He says quickly.

“It just happened this morning. I’ve hardly convinced myself that it happened.”

“How do you feel? Have you been checked out by Madam Pomfrey.” His eyes rake over her,
looking for injuries in a way that would have made her skin crawl from anyone else.

“My knuckles got a little scraped, but Greengrass dealt with that immediately.”

“Okay.” His demeanor settles slightly. “I’ve had a meeting with the Griffins. McLaggen has been
switched onto the reserve team for the rest of the year.”

Unease sinks into her gut. “What did you tell them. I haven’t even told-”

“I’ve told them that the rumours going around are true, and I can’t have someone like that playing for
our house. You weren’t talked about at all.”

“Davis said the worst that would happen was he’d have to sit out a few practices.”

“Honestly, most of the time yeah. He’s better than almost all Griffins, let alone the reserves. But
you’re our star, and anything that threatens you needs to be shown a lesson.”

Azalea looks to the side of the pitch where the Lions are warming up for their run. “Okay. Thank
you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. According to the rules of coaching, I have to have you report it to a Professor.
If you don’t I will.”

She sighs, dreading that conversation. “Fine. Anything else, Coach?”

“One more.” He answers easily.

“I was joking!” She groans. “It was one incident, this is ridiculous.”

“How much have you eaten since it happened?” He asks seriously, completely taking her off guard.

“Eating? What does that have to do with-?”

“I know how you deal with stress, Azalea.” He answers. “With everything going on surrounding
you, I have every reason to ask.”

She wants to lie, but looking up into his eyes takes that option away. She knows him to well, she’s
too close to him to lie to him. “I missed lunch.” She forces out. “Forced myself to eat some before
coming here.”

He crosses his arms at her. “And since Samhain?”

“Eaten every meal.” She says quickly, before rolling her eyes as he stares her down. “Small meals.”

“You can work out today, but you’ve gotta go to the hospital wing after practice and make sure
you’re getting everything you need.”

***

The Potions class mirrors itself in the morning. Azalea enters Transfiguration alone, only to be pulled
by the arm by none other than Pansy Parkinson to a table and plopped down between her and
Daphne Greengrass.

“Dursley, I believe you know Parkinson.” Daphne says cooly. “She knows everything, but she only
shares what’s necessary.”

Azalea sighs and crosses her arms, leaning against the back of her seat “Brilliant. Anyone else? Like
the boy-”

“Nott doesn’t care about any sort of gossip. And Blaise, whose seat your in today, is thrilled to spend
time wooing some of our lovely classmates they don’t usually spend time around. They know, but
won’t say anything.” Parkinson replies to her, pulling out her homework and setting it in the middle
of their desk. “Not that it’s gonna matter very much longer. I heard McLaggen was kicked off the
team.”

“Moved to the reserves.” Azalea fixes quickly before realizes that she doesn’t see how that’s a
problem. “Wait, why would that change who knows?”

“You’re the best weapon your team has.” Parkinson answers as though Azalea is a child asking a
question about something incredibly simple. “You’re the only reason anyone would kick someone as
good as McLaggen to the reserves. The whole school’ll figure it out as soon as they all know he’s
been dropped. Especially the Quidditch fans.”

Ron flashes through her head, and Azalea fights back a groan before moving to a different topic. “I
thought you hated me.” She addresses Parkinson, leaning forward onto the table and tilting her head
to look at her. “You know, because the whole Malfoy thing.”

“I indulge him, but I don’t follow anyone blindly without forming my own opinions. I haven’t had a
chance to form an opinion on you yet.”
“Did I mention her mothers a reporter?” Greengrass interrupts, an almost fond smirk on her face.

Parkinson rolls her eyes. “Your mother’s a fashion designer, and yet look at you. Our parents clearly
don’t dictate our lives.”

Azalea leans back into her seat and lets herself smile before setting up for class. Slytherins making
her feel better was definitely not something she expected.
 Chapter 7

Professor Snape isn’t in his office when Azalea stops by. Part of her wishes she could simply say she
tried and leave, but she forces herself to write a short, formal note to Professor Snape that she needs
to speak to him. With the parchment left on his desk, she takes the main corridors to the History of
Magic classroom.

Two tall, redheaded figures stop her a few paces from the door. “What happened with McLaggen?”
They question in sync.

“How am I supposed to know?” She answers sharply. “He’s not even on my team.”

“He’s not on any team.” “That’s the point.” “It’s not a large jump-” “To figure out why.”

Azalea breathes out deeply. “So I’ve been told.” She says to herself before looking between the
twins. “Firstly, it’s not your job to take care of me. Secondly, I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

“Something happened.” Fred disputes her. “If it hadn’t the girls wouldn’t have sent out the sparks.”

“Nothing happened.” She states again, frustrated with the situation. “Class is going to start any
minute.” She turns, trying to walk away when a hand grabs her wrist, pulling her back around. The
move is so reminiscent of McLaggen that she freezes, her heart echoing in her ears, as she is pulled
back eye-to-eye with George. “ What?” She growls out.

Something in his eyes change, and he shares a quick look with Fred before dropping his hand from
her wrist. “What happened?” Fred asks again, reaching out with his hand like he wants to comfort
her before thinking better of it and dropping it back down.

“Ms. Dursley?” Professor Aldebrandi questions from behind her. “Are you planning on joining the
class before we start?”

She feels her muscles relax. “I’ve been trying, Professor.” Keeping her eye contact with George, she
tries to mimic the cool tone of Greengrass. “I keep getting pulled back.”

George looks past her. “Professor, we’re just trying-”

“She has class, boys.” The Professor tells them sternly. “So do you, I believe. Whatever it is, you can
do it in your free time. Inside, Ms. Dursley.”

“Yes, sir.” Azalea turns her back to the twins, letting herself rub her wrist with a shaking hand as she
is followed by her Professor into the lecture room. She slides onto the end of the bench her friends
are occupying, rushing to get ready as the Professor begins speaking.

Next to her, Ron stares her down. “Tell me it’s not true. The McLaggen thing.” He whispers, not
giving her time to feign ignorance.

“Does everyone know?” She asks, flicking her eyes past him at the rest of their group. Hermione is
dutifully taking notes while Neville and Dudley seem to be starting some game on a page of
Dudley’s notebook.

“No. But someone’s gonna ask him about you. If it were Ginny and I heard it from a rumour-”

“I’ll tell him.” She cuts him off fiercely.

“What are you two arguing about?” Dudley asks, leaning away from his game to get close to them.
Azalea gives a strong look to Ron before telling them how the twins ambushed her in the hall to
force her to talk to them.

“Dursleys, Mr. Weasley.” The three of them stop their conversation, looking abashedly up towards
Professor Aldebrandi and echoing an apology. “I’m collecting your homework.” He updates them,
giving them a moment to put their assignments on their desk before flicking his wand and having
them all float towards him. “Wonderful. Mr. Goyle, if you wouldn’t mind telling Mr. Malfoy that I
expect his assignment tomorrow if he wants credit.

The rest of class goes by quietly, Azalea trying and failing to focus on taking notes. Instead, she
scans the hall, wondering if anyone in the room would end up acting like McLaggen. She can’t
imagine it, but until he cornered her she couldn’t imagine him doing it either.

Everybody’s head turns as the door opens, Professor Snape standing in the doorway. “Professor, I
need to speak with Ms. Dursley. If you can send her to my office as soon as you can spare her.” His
drawling voice echoes through the room, twisting into knots in her stomach.

“She can go with you now. I’m sure her friends can fill her in on anything she misses.” He gestures
her out of the room, and Azalea shrugs at her friends noncommittally, packing her things together
quickly and sliding out of her seat. Her and Professor Snape walk silently to his office, Azalea trying
to find any words to explain what happened.

“Before we begin, I need to know why I am required to make you nutrient potions again. I was
under the impression that you were fully recovered from your mother's treatment.” He prompts her as
he shuts the door to his office behind them.

Azalea feels a little bit of embarrassment creep over her. “My meals have been a little small, and
Madam Pomfrey says I’m using more energy than I’m eating, so I have to take small vials of potions
between meals until I can train my body to eat a normal plate of food.”

“Have you spoken to any trainers about an eating plan?”

She nods slightly. “Last year. I never managed to eat as much as they wanted, but I eat good
otherwise.”

He studies her, before giving her a slight nod. “Very well. Now, what was it you needed to talk with
me about?”

“I was told- Oliver Wood, my Quidditch Captain, he told me I had to report something that
happened. To me, not just something random.” She takes a deep breath, hardly able to keep her mind
going in one direction. “Anyway, he said I needed to report to a teacher, so I came to you.”

“I’m sure Wood meant that you should go to your head-of-house.” The Potions Master says,
followed by a sigh as he sits down and puts his palms on his desk. “Sit down. Stop dancing around
the subject and just come out with it.”

Moving slowly, she props herself onto the edge of the the offered chair, eyes dancing around the
castle walls. “There was a... a incident.” She stumbles over the words. “Between me and, um,
Cormac McLaggen.”

“Stop fumbling. Take one second, swallow your emotions, and say the facts.” Azalea looks into his
eyes as he instructs her. “It doesn’t have to be every detail. I’m quite able to fill in some blanks.” She
stares at him for another moment, focusing on her breathing, and he sighs again, leaning back against
his chair and putting a hand on his forehead. “I can’t help you if you can’t say anything. Close your
eyes and tell me the first thing you think of about the incident.”

Begrudgingly, she listens to him. Her eyes fall close. “He had me pinned. My- my wrists. My
knuckle got scraped.” Another shallow breath before continuing. “His hands were wandering, but I
couldn’t get him to let me go. He was pressed against me, and he-” The memory of his mouth by her
neck makes her want to shake. “He licked my neck. Do I have to do this?” She begs, opening her
eyes again.

The Potions Master stands from his seat. “No, that’s plenty. Tell me, Ms. Dursley, have you ever
heard of sharing a memory.” Azalea shakes her head without really thinking about it. The only
memory stuff she’s studied was the occlumency, which is technically illegal. “One point from
Gryffindor for a nonverbal answer. There’s a spell that can pull a memory from your head. When put
into the right container, others can view that memory. That is how the Headmaster determines which
punishment is needed.”

“You’re going to take my memory?” She questions, trying to hide her hope. “Like, completely?”

Professor Snape gives her a stern look in response. “For less than a minute. What I’m going to do is
remove the memory from your head, place it into this vial here, and then duplicate the vial. The
original will then go back into your head, where it belongs.”

Her hope disappears, leaving her with a small frown. “What if you take the wrong memory?”

“Then you will have wasted the time of me, the Headmaster, and Professor McGonagall.” He
answers briskly, moving to her side and setting the vial down on the desk in front of her. “You need
to close your eyes. The first spell I am going to cast will pull you into your memory. You will feel as
though you are back there. What you need to do is let me know when you are at the beginning of
your memory, and then you will move forward until you get to the end, and then you will stop the
memory. Understand?”

Confusion, the kind that is usually accompanied by magic that she doesn’t understand, fills her. She
nods anyway. “I guess.”

She’s instructed to close her eyes and think of McLaggen, and a soft whisper is all she hears before
she is jolted into her own body, back pressed against the castle wall. Her heart starts racing, breath
coming in short gasps.

“You’re not there.” Professor Snape's voice breaks through the air, causing the memory to freeze.
“Remember, you’re sitting in a chair in my office. You are still in control of your real body. Now,
are you at the beginning of the incident?”

Azalea struggles to force her body to swallow the lump in her throat. “No. I’m in the middle.” He
gives her vague instruction to imagine the scene going backwards, but after a moment she figures it
out, moving as though a ghost backwards in time until she’s a step before McLaggen had spoken to
her. “Okay. I’m there.”

“Now go back another ten seconds. That’s where it’s going to start.” She obliges, telling him when
she’s at that point in her memory. “Okay, I’m going to start the spell. Once you hear me the
incantation, you need to start letting the memory run its course. That’s the hardest part, you have to
let it keep going. Once you get to the end, count another five seconds and then stop. Understand?”
She lets him know that she does, and she struggles through the next ten minutes, letting out a breath
she hadn’t known she was holding as she pauses the memory, gaze on the snake carving.
As suddenly as she had been thrown into her memory, her eyes open and the Potions Master's office
focuses in front of her. She racks her brain as to an answer about what happened, but everything is
blank. She knows that she’s here because something happened to her, but she can’t remember what
actually happened. “What just-”

“Breathe. Everything will make more sense in a moment.” Professor Snape quiets her, corralling a
foggy silver stream into a vial.

“Is that my memory?” She asks, remembering that that was the plan, at least. Taking her memory of
some incident and bottling it.

The Professor gives a humoring smirk. “It is. And you can have it back.” With a tap, he duplicates
the vial, quickly opening the original and pulling it back out with his wand, the strange silver thing
pulling towards her head. “This will be a little overwhelming. It takes a while to find its way back
into its proper spot” He warns, before flicking it free from his wand. It flies towards her, ramming
itself into her head and disappearing. “You will be informed of any-”

He’s interrupted three sharp knocks on the door. Azalea sits perfectly still as he strides to the door,
pulling it open. “Professor, there’s been another petrification.” Percy stands straight, the worried look
in his eyes contrasting with his controlled expression. “Headmaster Dumbledore is requesting you by
the swimming area.”

Professor Snape gives a brisk nod, turning to face her again. “I will give your report to the
Headmaster as soon as this is dealt with.” Azalea doesn’t miss the clear dismissal, quickly grabbing
her bag and standing. “Mister Weasley, I trust you can escort Miss Dursley to the Gryffindor
common room before returning to the den.” Percy gives an affirmative nod, and Azalea walks out the
door, giving a quiet thank you to the Potions Master as she moves past him.

Percy doesn’t ask what the meeting was about. Azalea begrudgingly tells herself that he probably
already knows, but the fact that he doesn’t pry fills a part of her gut with gratitude. “The petrification.
Was it...” She tries to find out what she wants to ask. Was it a student? A teacher? The portraits? One
person? Another group?

“Cats.” He answers, frowning. “There halls around the pool are popular with them, since it’s so
warm. Thankfully, no students were around.”

“Except for the student who did it.” She responds. “Do you know if Crookshanks is okay?”

“I didn’t see. I was only told that much so I could tell Professor Snape.” He squeezes her shoulder.
“Classes have been escorted to their common rooms, and I’m sure the collars compulsion charm has
been activated. Hopefully, Crookshanks will be with Hermione.”

The common room is nearly empty, and Azalea finds Hermione and Neville in their years dorm,
eating with the rest of their year.

Both of her friends jump up to greet her. “Are you okay? What did Snape want?” Neville asks,
followed quickly by Hermione. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“Let me grab a plate and we can talk in our room.” She tells them quietly, quickly filling a plate
before joining her friends in their room, Azalea sitting at her desk and Neville and Hermione on her
bed. With a loud purr, Crookshanks jumps onto Hermione's lap, nudging her hand onto his head.
“There’s been another attack. A bunch of cats by the pool were petrified.”

Hermione stiffens, running her hand a little harder down Crookshanks’ back, pulling a dissatisfied
sound out of him. “How many? How would someone even sneak up on cats well enough to petrify
them?”

Azalea shrugs. “No idea. Percy just told me about the cats as he brought me here from Professor
Snape’s office.”

“Okay, then what did he want?” Hermione questions.

She takes a quick bites, building up her courage. “You know those rumours about McLaggen?” She
waits for her friends to nod before continuing. “ I was the girl they were talking about. Nothing really
bad happened, I swear, I just got a bit freaked out. Oliver took him off the Griffins for it, and I
reported it to Snape. It’s dealt with, and I really don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Just...” Neville starts gently, looking at Hermione with a warning in his eyes as she leans forward in
her signature I-want-more-information way. “Why didn’t you tell us yesterday? That’s when it
happened, right? And that’s why McLaggen got moved to the reserves.”

“I wasn’t gonna tell anyone.” Azalea explains. “At least not yet. But the girls who helped me out
spread the warning about McLaggen, and Katie figured it out when she tried to tell me about it. She
told Oliver, and he kicked him off the team and people started putting those pieces together. Oliver
told me to tell a Professor, so I set up a meeting with Professor Snape.”

“That’s what the twins were talking to you about!” Hermione acclaims, followed by Nevilles much
calmer observation. “And Ron figured it out too. Does Dudley know?”

Azalea cringes. “I was going to tell him after class. I’m sure someone is going to bring it up to him
before I get the chance now.”

There’s a beat of silence between them before Hermione leans forward again. “But tell me, do we
need to do anything about McLaggen or was it really-” She’s cut of by her own laughing as Neville
hits her with a tickling charm. Azalea gives a quick smile to him before cancelling the spell. “You
jerk!” She gasps, grabbing one of Azalea’s pillows and swinging it at Neville, hitting him in the
chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“She doesn’t wanna talk!” Neville defends himself with a smile, grabbing the pillow out of her grip.

Crookshanks jumps off of Hermione’s lap as she grins, arm reaching back towards the other pillows.
With a fast movement, she grabs another pillow and swings it at his head, prompting a full-fledged
pillow fight. Azalea smiles at her friends, trying to scarf down her food before being used as a shield
and pulled into the fight that spans the distance of their three beds, only ending when Professor
McGonagall calls the house to the common room to tell everyone what has happened.
 Chapter 8

As expected, Dudley is furious that she didn’t tell him what happened. Cedric Diggory had asked
him how she was doing, leading to Ron telling him about what happened. Ron’s angry that she
didn’t tell Dudley right away, Azalea is annoyed that Ron didn’t let her tell him, and Dudley is both
overprotective and giving her the silent treatment for not being the one to tell him.

“You two are being ridiculous.” Hermione tells her.

Azalea scowls in defense of both her and her stupid brother. “What about Ron? He’s involved in this
too.”

Hermione gives her a tilted look. “Ron’s upset to be put in the middle. You and Dudley are just
being dumb.”

“He won’t even talk to me! Why would I want to sit with him?” Neville gives a small shake of his
head, prompting her to snap at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says sheepishly. “It’s just, if you had asked me last year if anything could have pulled
you and Dud’ apart I would’ve said no. Now you two won’t talk because something happened to
you that you had no control over. It’s strange to me.” A strange form of guilt wraps itself around her.
He’s right, this time last year they were still new to this world, a team. Now they’re only ever
together when they’re in their group.

“It’s a sibling thing.” Ginny butts in from her spot next to them at the breakfast table. “Ron and I
were super close before he left for Hogwarts. Now I only see him when we’re both sitting here.”
Ginny and Luna switch between the Gryffindor table and the Ravenclaw one like they do with the
Hufflepuff one.

“Yeah, but you and Ron are different years.” Hermione points out, waving her fork in Ginny’s
direction. “Fred and George are hardly ever apart. And Padma and Parvati are still close.”

“The Patil’s share a friend group, they’re probably a lot like you guys.” Ginny rebuttals, leaning onto
her elbows on the table. “And Fred and George are freaks of nature. Ah, shit.” She leans back off of
the table, pulling a piece of toast off of the front of her shirt, the jam staying on the fabric.

“Language, Miss Weasley.” Professor McGonagall admonishes, getting a quick ‘Yes Ms.
McGonagall’ in response. “Miss Dursley, speak with me for a minute.” Azalea nods, climbing out of
her seat and following her head-of-house out the doors into the hall, stopping on the side of the
doors. “I viewed your memory with the Headmaster and Professor Snape last night. You need to
know that this is being taken very seriously, and I understand that Mister Wood already moved
Mister McLaggen off of the Quidditch team.”

“He was moved to the reserves.” Azalea blurts out her default argument.

The Professor nods stiffly. “Yes. However, he has now been banned from the game for the rest of
the year, and he serves detention twice week with Argus Filch for the foreseeable future.” Azalea
looks down at the ground, nodding. She can’t help but feel that too much was happening because of
one incident. “Miss Dursley, I want you to know that I am proud of you for reporting this. Most
people never do. It took a lot of bravery.”

She doesn’t feel like anything she’s done in the past two days has been anything remotely brave, but
she gives her head-of-house a small smile and a nod, watching her walk back into the Great Hall
before sighing and taking a few steps backwards, leaning against the wall, her head facing the
ceiling.

Dudley appears in her peripheral, copying her stance silently. He threads his fingers through hers,
and she lets out a sigh, closing her eyes.

“He’s got detentions.” Azalea says after a few minutes. “With Filch. And he’s off of Quidditch
completely.”

There’s another beat of silence before Dudley responds. “I’m still siccing Fred and George on him.”

Azalea lets out a choked laugh. “Sure.” She agrees, still not sure it’s required, but knowing it makes
him feel better. “I should really finish eating.”

Together, they head back into the Great Hall, Ron already eating at the Gryffindor table.

“Whose shirt is it then?” He’s asking as they sit down

Ginny huffs. “It’s one of Luna’s. I asked Professor McGonagall if it was fine. She even changed the
color for me.”

“Wait, why are you wearing Luna’s shirt?” Dudley questions, plucking a piece of sausage off of
Ron’s plate.

Azalea jumps in with her own question. “Where is Luna today, anyway?”

“Potions accident.” Ginny answers Dudley briskly before looking at Azalea. “She’s in the Owlery
sending a letter to her dad. You know, updating him about the cat attack.”

“I still can’t believe we went back to class after lunch.” Azalea grumbles, remembering the day
before.

Hermione stiffens. “They couldn’t find a threat! There’s no point in cancelling classes when they
couldn’t find anything dangerous.”

“They’ve never found anything.” Ron counters. “And yet the Chamber’s somewhere around.”

The two of them fall into the typical pattern of bickering. Hermione is positive that there’s no such
thing, and Azalea can’t tell whether Ron genuinely believes in it or just likes opposing people.
Ginny, jam stain darkening her scarlet top on the underside of her chest, leaves for class while the
rest of them finish eating. The hall is nearly empty by the time they decide to find a study room that is
decently close to their Greek Language classroom so they don’t have very far to walk for their class.

On the way, Azalea spots a group of Slytherins. “Hey, wait up a minute, guys.” She tells her friends,
splitting off from the group. “Davis! Greengrass! Can I have a minute?” The two girls slow to a stop,
their group stopping with them.

Malfoy snarls at her. “What do you want, you-”

A hand clamps over his mouth, contrasting with his pale skin. “We’ll let you two catch up.” Zabini
offers. Malfoy glares daggers at him and Azalea both as he is pulled away, Parkinson leading him by
the shoulder as he argues against Zabini’s hand. “What’s going on?” Davis asks.

“I just wanted to thank you. I don’t know if I did before, but, I, uh, I just wanted you two know I
appreciate you two showing up the other day.” She runs a hand through her hair, flushing as she hits
a knot and has to pull her hand out. “I did give a copy of the memory to the Headmaster. McLaggen
is banned from Quidditch, for the year I think, and given detentions. And I only did that because
Oliver told me to, and he was told by Katie who had found out thanks to you guys spreading the
warning to girls. So, thank you for that. And thank you for keeping my name out of it even though
that didn’t last very long, with the whole Quidditch thing happening later-”

“You’re rambling.” Greengrass cuts her off. “You should make your thoughts more concise.”

“You gave a copy of your memory to the Headmaster?” Tracy questions, interest sparking in her
eyes.

Azalea nods. “Yeah. It was taken out of my head and put into a vial, copied, and then it jammed
itself back into my skull.”

“I’ll have to get more information about that from you another time.” Tracy tells her, glancing over
Azalea’s shoulder. “Right now, it looks like your friends are getting a little restless.”

Behind her, Hermione is talking to Neville animatedly, while Ron and Dudley are talking, Ron
staring her down while Dudley keeps looking and then looking away. “Yeah, ‘Lee’s been a bit
overprotective since he heard what happened.” Azalea looks back at the two Slytherins. “Have you
met everybody? We’re gonna study Defense if you guys want to join.”

“We’re actually on our way to the strip to practice.” Greengrass lets her know. “Maybe another
time.”

“We don’t really know what we’re doing, anyway.” Azalea smiles. “Hermione’s been studying, but
we have no idea if it will turn out being really hard.”

“Not a great sales pitch.” Davis smirks at her. “It’s Defense, there’s not really much to study anyway.
We’ll let you get going.”

“See you around.” Greengrass nods at her.

“Yeah, definitely.” Azalea agrees, the three of them turning around and heading back to their
separate groups.

Ron and Dudley both keep their eyes on the retreating Slytherins. “What was that all about?” Ron
questions her.

Azalea bristles a little. She really can’t have anything that people don’t know about. “I just needed to
talk to them. We sit next to each other in class. So, the knockback jinx, right? That’s used a lot in
dueling, right?”

Hermione nods. “I figured it would be good to start with it since we’ve all seen it used before.
Lockhart says it’s useful against Doxys, but honestly with Doxycide being an easier method it’s only
really useful against people. Still, it’ll be good to know.”

They find a study room a few halls from the class and set it up, pushing three of the chairs off to the
side and stacking them to give themselves more room. Two chairs they keep on the ground facing
each other, and Azalea stands a few feet in front of one of them nervously as Hermione draws the
spell motion on the blackboard. “Are you sure about this?” She asks.

Her friend nods, taking her own deep breath as she stands in front of the other chair. “I studied it. I
can do it.” She nods again, lifting her wand and falling into a dueling stance facing Azalea. “You
ready?”
“Hit me.” Azalea bolsters herself, readying herself to be flung back into the chair. Hermione casts the
spell, and a force hits her chest, making her stumble back a step.

“Real impressive, Hermione!” Ron heckles from the side of the room. Next to him, Neville slaps his
arm while Dudley laughs.

“Don’t be scared to hurt me.” Azalea offers as advice. “I mean, I’ve got a chair to catch me.”

Hermione casts again, this time managing to push her back far enough to knock her into the chair.
Azalea takes the next turn, Hermione coaching her until she knocks Neville back into the chair, the
front legs of the chair lifting from the ground. Ron’s first attempt sends him flying back into his own
chair, Dudley follows Azalea’s lead of letting Hermione coach him until he manages it, and Neville
hits the chair behind his target, sending it flying into the wall.

“Weren’t you trying to hit Ron?” Lee’s Jordans voice pulls their attention. He’s standing in the now-
open doorway, twins flanking him on either side. “You probably hit more often when you actually
aim at your target.”

“Well aren’t you clever.” Azalea deadpans, grabbing the chair and putting it back in it’s spot.
“What’re you three doing here, anyway?”

Lee summons one of the chairs, sending it flying over everyones head and settling it in the doorway.
“Figured we’d check on you all.” “After Hermione told us about your dangerous little study group.”
“We thought we’d make sure you weren’t injuring our dear brother.” “But clearly we should’ve been
more worried about the furniture.” Fred and George sit on either arm of the chair, Lee in the middle.

Azalea looks towards Hermione, annoyed. “When did you have the time to tell them? We had
History and Charms together yesterday, and you never mentioned seeing them before then.”

Hermione scowls at her. “It’s not like we tell each other every single person we interact with.” She
snaps. “And it was before History yesterday. You saw them there, too.” Quickly, she turns her
attention towards the three fourth-years. “Don’t you all have class right now?”

Three shrugs answer her. “Maybe.” Lee says, followed by the twins. “Nothing important.”

“So what are you doing here?” Ron questions them, successfully diffusing Hermione’s argument that
all classes were important.

“Easy.” George smirks. Fred follows suit. “We wanted to see you flung on your arse.”

“Har har.” Ron fake-laughs at his brothers, before turning back to Neville. “Alright Neville, middle
of the chest.” They fall back into practice quickly, taking a couple more turns practicing the spell
while advice is given to them from the sidelines, both helpful and unhelpful. Once they all feel semi-
confident in the spell, they seperate the chairs even further, both parties in front of them claiming a
dueling stance. The shield spell they know absorbs spells if cast well enough, and they practice both
spells together, one trying to break past the others shield spell.

“Have you heard anything about the cats?” “The ones that weren’t found yesterday?” George and
Fred ask.

Dudley shakes his head. “Nothing. A first year was crying in the common room about it this
morning. They brought their family cat and now it’s one of the missing ones.”

“Thank god Crookshanks is okay.” Hermione says, throwing up a shield charm as Azalea’s spell
whizzes towards her, hitting the shield and breaking it, knocking her back a few steps. “I don’t know
what I’d have done if I couldn’t find him after the attack.”

“Terrence disappeared around the time of the attack.” Lee tells them, causing Azalea to freeze long
enough to get hit with Hermione’s returning spell, sending her back so hard she knocks the chair
over.

Ron turns white. “Terrence.” He forces out. “Your...”

“Tarantula.” Azalea finishes, standing up from the floor and staring at the older boy. “Your tarantula
has been missing since lunch yesterday and you didn’t tell anyone?”

Lee shrugs while Fred and George delight in Ron’s reaction. “Filius did a tracking spell. He’s not in
the castle. He did say he’d check every night, but most likely he’s off in the forest somewhere.”

Ron shudders, swearing loudly that he’s never going near the forest, as Hermione drops her dueling
stance. “Did you just refer to Professor Flitwick as Filius? ” She asks incredulously

“What’s wrong with that?” “It is his name.” Fred and George answer in place of their friend.

“I called him Son most of my first year thanks to Latin.” Lee tells them with a laugh. “He dueled me
at the end of the year, saying if I could hit him with any spell I could keep calling him that.”

“Isn’t he a retired Dueling Champion?” Neville questions.

“Well I didn’t know that at the time!” Lee argues, while Fred and George laugh at him.

Dudley makes a noise of realization. “Wait, wasn’t Mrs. Norris one of the petrified cats?” He gets a
few confused affirmative answers, causing him to pump his fist into the air. “Yes! The git is gonna
be awful during detentions!”

“Wait,” “Who’s got detentions?” Fred and George ask while Azalea realizes what her brother is
talking about.

“McLaggen.” She answers evenly, unsure about whether that's as good of a thing as he’s making it
out to be. There’s a beat of silence as she lifts the chair back into position and steps back in front of
it. “Try again. I was distracted.” She tells Hermione, falling into a duelling stance. Out of the corner
of her eye, she can see the chair move forward, the door shutting behind it.

Blue light streaks towards her and she summons her shield, the spell dissolving into it with a strong
impact.

She puts her wand back into its holster, stepping towards the door and claiming the newly-empty
chair. Mood soured, she watches her friends practice.

Just after Dudley manages to break through Hermione’s shield, sending her back into the chair, the
door opens again, Fred and George making their way back into the door, a large tray of drinks
floating through the air after them.

“Where’s Lee?” Azalea questions, looking back at them.

“Filch’s office.” The twins answer quickly, lowering the floating tray onto her lap and claiming the
armchairs as their seats again. “Drink up, everyone! Celebrating the downfall of a major asswipe!”
They grab two cups and clink them above her head.

Ron eyes them, and their cups, suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Butterbeer.” They tell him cheerfully, each taking a swig.

Azalea and Dudley both give a dissatisfied look, and Hermione’s jaw drops. “Beer? It’s 9:30 in the
morning!”

“Not Muggle Beer.” Ron assures them, stepping forward and grabbing a drink, sniffing it.
“Butterbeer doesn’t have any alcohol in it. It’s usually really good.” He gives his brothers warning
glares before taking a tiny sip of his drink. Azalea follows his lead, tentatively grabbing a glass and
smelling it before taking a sip. Neville grabs one without very much hesitation, and Hermione and
Dudley finish off the tray. As the last drink is pulled off, Fred and George lift the tray and the chairs,
rearranging them so they’re back in the circle they started in.

“Are we done practicing, then?” Hermione asks, sitting in one of the red seats with a frown.

“Class starts in an hour.” Neville notes, sitting next to her. “I’m sure we can do some more after a
break.”

The rest of them settle in, Dudley joining Azalea in her chair, giving his chair for the twins to sit in.
The two of them entertain with stories of their own detentions, and what landed them there. They sit
there long after their drinks are gone, laughing until Hermione notices the clock, informing them all
that they were five minutes late for class.
 Chapter 9

“It’s definitely different in here without McLaggen staring at our arses.” Alicia says casually from
behind Azalea.

Next to her, Angelina makes an agreeing noise. “Been the best workout since second year.”

Azalea finishes her set of pull-ups, the bar lowering so her feet are sturdy on the ground. “No
workout would be the best workout.” She groans, shaking out her arms. Even with the drinks they
take to keep their muscles from getting sore, everyone feels it by the end of the session.

Katie gives her a smile as she steps up to take her turn. “It’ll get easier, I swear.”

“You’ve been saying that for months.” Azalea responds, watching the bar lift up until Katie’s feet
can’t touch the ground.

“And you’ve gotten better in those months.” Katie tells her before starting her set.

The sound of loud grunting echoes throughout the room, and Azalea rolls her eyes. “If only the rest
of them left with him.” Angelina frowns, looking behind them at the guys from the Griffins, sitting in
pairs throwing weighted balls back and forth.

Alicia scoffs. “I thought they were gonna, with the fit they threw.”

“They threatened to.” Katie grunts out, staying in a dead hang while talking. “Tried to say they
would all walk. Oliver told them they were more than welcome to, and nobody actually did it.” She
finishes talking, going back to her pull-ups.

“Those bludgers wouldn’t know what to do with themselves without Quidditch. No way would their
egos let them go back to Gymnastics.” Angelina rolls her eyes.

“I don’t care if they stopped working out completely.” Alicia says, stepping forward as the bar
lowers Katie to the ground. “I’d be happy as long as I don’t have to hear their obnoxious moaning.”

They finish their final set of pull-ups, their teams fitness coach keeping track of their progress before
telling them to start their runs. A running track goes along the corners of the room, and the coaches
spread throughout, eyes everywhere so nobody can slack. Azalea follows the older girls onto the
track, listening to their conversation as they run. Slowly, they move ahead of her, their additional
years of training evident.

Light blue agate slices are scattered throughout the room, letting them all listen to The Witching
Hour , the wizard equivalent of a radio station that plays music. Despite the small distraction, Azalea
still finds her eyes wandering throughout the room in boredom. Fred and George are running
together, racing in short bursts before going back into a jog. Oliver and Flint are moving together as
well, the only other inter-house pair. Most of the running is done in groups, teams only really split by
gender or age. A pretty Ravenclaw around Azalea’s age is running alone, as is Draco Malfoy. Group
by group, the more experienced runners pass Azalea. The twins wave as they bolt past, the
Ravenclaws ignore her completely. Strangely, the Slytherins give her small nods of
acknowledgment.

When the Griffins get to her side, they slow slightly to her pace rather than passing her.

“Must be pretty proud of yourself.” One of the guys says her, tone casually conversational. Azalea
thinks he plays Keeper, although she never really tried to remember his name.

“What are you on about?” She questions, the weight in her stomach making its own
guess.Uncomfortable, she kicks up her own speed a little.

The boys keep up with her easily. “Getting rid of the competition like that. Something a Slytherin
would have done.”

“Done what?” She asks again, annoyed. “Tell the truth?”

“Truth or not, you got him pulled.”

“It’s not like I asked for it to happen. Why would I, we play for the same house.”

“But not for the same team.” The keeper looks down at her, but one of the other players laugh.

“Maybe if you had, you would have simply asked for it in the first place.” He tells her, chuckling at
himself. She takes a second to understand the meaning, before making sure her gaze is safely in front
of her so they can’t see the anger swirling in her. Her throat, already dry from the running, tightens
even more.

The boys laugh, and Azalea looks across the room for Katie. She finds her, calming herself down a
little bit, just as the keeper talks to her again. “We go against the Otters next week. If Bartlett loses
this game for us, you are going to pay for it.”

Together, the group moves past her, some of the ones in the back knocking her with their sides as
they pass.

Azalea spends the remainder of the 30 minute run in her head, body moving on its own. Landing in
her mindscape almost instantly, Azalea takes a long look around. The books say you need to know
your own mind in order to change it, and she’s been trying to find an understanding in the empty
field and flying bird-shaped memories that make an unedited mind. Hermione and Neville both said
they’ve been able to make small changes by now, Hermione has been working on organizing her
knowledge and Neville has planted some roots. Even with their help, she hasn’t been able to do
anything other than get swarmed by some of the memories.

So she stops trying to understand. Instead, she acts, holding out her hand and calling the memory of
the interaction to her. A small red memory dives down at her, swooping past and landing on the
ground a few feet away. It pecks and the ground and shakes itself, ruffling its feathers, and Azalea
squats in front of it. She hold out her hand, watching the memory curiously as it hops towards he. It
raises what she guesses would be its head, pressing the top of it against her palm, the memory taking
over her brain.

She closes her eyes, remembering the way the boys made her feel. Despite the small amount of
worry coming from the threat at the end, the main feeling is annoyance with a strumming thread of
anger throughout. The feeling against her skin changes, turning to a short fur.

When she opens her eyes again, golden eyes stare back at her. A coyote, she thinks, with a dark
circle in the fur around its neck.

Azalea tries to remember anything she might have ever learned about coyotes. A memory cries
above her, swooping down and landing on her shoulder. She can remember a trip to a nature center
in primary school, Dudley by her side as they fill out a packet on the various animals. The memory
only holds a little glimpse of a coyote, a informational plaque with a picture of one in front of a fallen
tree in the forest. As soon as she sees it it fades, and the memory flies from her shoulder.
“Forest.” She says to herself, jarring herself with the feeling of talking in her mind but not in her
body. “Woah. Okay.”

A forest as a home for her irritation. She can do that. Azalea thinks about the forbidden forest,
imposing and dangerous, and holds on to the feeling she imagines she would have walking through it
at night. Eyes closed again, she pictures a fallen tree, slowly peeking her eye open to see if it worked.
An uprooted tree, the trunk around 3 feet, is in front of her. The coyote bares its teeth at the tree for a
second before moving closer to it, looking like Crookshanks as it sniffs the roots.

Climbing onto the trunk, Azalea walks up the tree to the top. She recognizes the tree, a tall pine that
was common in the small wooded section behind her father's house. Up near the top, she sees the
closed pinecones. Encouraged by her success so far, she keeps her eyes open and pushes her
emotions out towards the tree, encouraging it to open the pinecones and release its seeds.

It works, slowly. She watches them open, the seeds moving out and floating a few centimeters away
from the pinecones. “Make a forest.” She says. Nothing happens, and she frowns, disappointment
pinging in her stomach. I can do this. She thinks, determination smothering the disappointment. The
grass surrounding the tree is empty, and she spreads her arms out and spins slowly, forcing the seeds
to fly out in a circle around her tucking themselves into the ground until they were so far out she
couldn’t see them.

Her arm in her mind is outstretched, but something in the real world touches her arm that is pumping
with her running body and she’s startled out of her mindscape, stumbling a few steps in her run.
“Wow, you were really off in your own world.” Katie steadies her, looking at her worriedly. “What
did they say to you that’s got you so distracted?”

“What? Who?” Azalea questions, heartbeats before realizing she was talking about the Griffins. “Oh,
nothing. Boys being dumb.” She waves off the question. Katie doesn’t have a chance to pry, their
fitness coach letting them know that their running is done. Azalea jogs to her bag and grabs her water
bottle out, drinking her fill as she exits the large doors, moving quickly to the Gryffindor common
room and then to her dorm to get ready for a shower. The cool water feels good on her skin, and she
stands in it daydreaming about what she might make her mindscape look like long after any sweat on
her body was cleaned away. Her roommates shuffle in and clean themselves off after their gymnastic
class, and Azalea wraps herself in a towel, brushing her teeth before returning to the bedroom.

Now that her legs have stopped moving so much, fatigue starts to set it. She struggles through putting
her pajamas on, collapsing into bed as Neville leaves the bathroom. “Overdo it?” Her friend teases
her. Azalea groans in response, mumbling a complaint about running, and Neville laughs at her from
behind his changing screen.

Hermione leaves the bathroom a little while later, and Azalea forces herself to not fall asleep. “What
do you know about coyotes?” She asks, voice scruffy with sleep.

“That they’re not native here.” Hermione answers after a second, towel landing on top her changing
screen. “I studied local animals in primary, but we never touched on coyotes.”

“Why?” Neville asks, closing his journal he was writing in and moving to sit on her bed, pulling his
sleep robe up so he didn’t sit on it.

Azalea makes a small humming noise, looking between Neville and Hermione’s towel. “I made a
breakthrough while working out.” She answers, smiling proudly.

Hermione steps out from behind her changing screen. “With what? A new best running distance?”
She questions, putting one side of her hair in a scrunchie and starting to braid the other side up.
“What does that have to do with coyotes?”

“Distance? No.” She answers quickly, before thinking of how fast she was running before and after
going into her mindscape. “Well, maybe. But no. I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out how I think.”

Hermione realizes what she’s talking about a few seconds before Neville did, pulling the curtain
closed and climbing onto the bed, recognition sparking in Neville’s eyes as she joins them. “How’d
you figure it out? What did you change?”

“I just... followed by emotions.” Azalea tries to explain what happened. “I was irritated with the
Griffin boys, and I was really just trying to clear my mind. But then I was in my mindscape, and I
just thought ‘fuck it’ and called down a memory, putting my emotions into it and it transformed.”

“Into a coyote? ” Hermione asks.

“Hold on, hold on.” Neville holds his hand up, getting their attention. “Why were you irritated with
the Griffins? I mean, it’s great you figured it out, but what did they do?”

Azalea’s proud mood dissipates slightly, replaced by familiar irritation. She can imagine the coyote
baring its teeth in her mind. “Nothing, really. They’re just lashing out because of the whole
McLaggen thing. They don’t have any fire behind their roar.”

“Lashing out?” Hermione scrunches her eyebrows together. “What, did they hex you?”

“No, they just ran their mouths. Called me a Slytherin, had some snarky comment about what
happened, and basically said if they lose it’s my fault.”

Neville stiffens. “They threatened you.”

“Like I said, they’re not actually gonna do anything.” Azalea tries to calm her friends, both of whom
are fuming.

“It doesn’t matter if they’re gonna go through with it!” Hermione argues. “If they threatened you,
you have to tell a professor! Hell, you should tell the headmaster.”

“And accomplish what?” Azalea bites back. “Nothings gonna happen, they haven’t done anything.
And if I do report it, it’s just gonna give them more of a reason to actually do something. Even if they
back off, am I supposed to just report anyone who I don’t get along with? Go to a professor every
time I get pulled into Ron and Malfoys feud?”

Hermione huffs. “Malfoy we can handle. The Griffins are a group, and they’re all older students.
What are we supposed to do if they do do something? You should absolutely go to someone better
equipped when you’re not able to do something.”

“Hermione’s right.” Neville tells her. “You don’t know what they’re able to do, magically. And their
cores are more mature than ours, so even if you did know they could probably over power you.”

Azalea rolls her eyes, but relents slightly. “How about I talk to Percy about it?” She offers a middle
ground. “If he thinks it’s serious enough to go to a professor, I’ll go. But if he agrees with me then
we just let them blow their hot air.” Her two friends agree to the plan, and they bid each other
goodnight. Azalea reads her birth-mothers journal entry about a perfectly normal monday before
meditating and calming her mind down and going to bed, hoping the Griffins just win their next
game.
 Chapter 10

Percy’s advice is pretty much what she expected. Spend the week leading up to the game focusing
on practical Defense, and wait and see what the outcome of the game is. If the Griffins win, there’s
nothing to do, and if they lose there’s always a chance they won’t actually do anything. In the end, if
Azalea doesn’t feel safe, she should tell the Prefects, and her Head of House and Top Student.

When they find out she was threatened, both Dudley and Ron act tough, ranting about hexing the
older boys. Along with refusing to leave her side to and from class, they practice spells with her
every second they have some free time, Neville and Hermione only joining in after they finish their
homework for whatever class they had just got out of. Each night, Azalea stays up late at her desk to
finish her own homework, not going to bed until hours after she should have. From what she can tell,
Ron and Dudley both rush through their homework the class before it’s due.

The day of the Griffins versus Otters game, Azalea’s nerves are frayed from a week of anticipating
what’s going to happen. She snaps at Dudley and Ron when they stand to follow her to the
bathroom, reminding them that the Griffins are down at the pitch getting ready for the game.

The bathroom is the same layout as the other bathrooms in the school, a circular room with stalls
along the outside. A matching number of washbowls are in the middle of room, dotted along the
edge of a water fountain. Azalea is washing her hands, admiring the sleeping dragon in the fountain,
when a stall opens and Padma walks out, freezing and giving her an awkward greeting before
walking up to the sink in line with her stall.

“Headed down to the game?” Padma asks her quietly.

Azalea nods, sliding her hand across the rune to stop the water and pressing her fingertips against the
drying runes on the top of the bowl. “One of Oliver’s big rules is that Gryffindor supports itself. I
have to go to every Griffins game.” She looks at Padma, hoping they are finally getting over the
awkwardness that’s been between them since the New Years Ball last year. “Are you? Heading
down?”

Padma leans onto the sink, staring at her hands as she washes them. “Coming back, actually. Lisa,
Mandy, and I were talking about different seekers, you know, why two people on the same broom
can reach such different speeds. Whether it comes down to physique or training, or even ability to
connect with the magic of the brooms...” She trails off, curiosity that was shining in her eyes
dimming down with embarrassment. She stands up straight quickly, withdrawing her hands from the
bowl and shutting off her own water “Sorry. I get a little carried away. We’re, uh, we’re going to the
library to see if there are any studies we can look at.”

Azalea smiles. “You find anything that can make me fly faster, let me know?”

“And give up any chance of us ever beating your team?” Padma acts scandalized at the suggestion,
starting to walk around the sinks towards her. “If my teams use what I find and still lose, I’ll tell you.
At least then I can help create an unbeatable seeker.”

“There are people better than me.” Azalea argues with a slight flush. She might have been picked out
of the people who tried out, but that doesn’t mean she’s the best in the house.

“Professional players who have been training for years, maybe.” Padma answers with a small,
teasing shake of her head. The two of them stand at either side of Azalea’s sink for a few seconds, an
awkward silence developing, when Padma continues. “I’ve, uh, been meaning to talk to you. We
haven’t really talked since last year, but I do believe you. Believe in you. That you’re not... what
everyone says you are.”

The different rumours about her fly through her mind, and Azalea frowns slightly. “Which one?
There’s something new every time I turn around.”

“You being the heir.” Padma answers quickly before blinking and tilting her head. “Well, any of
them, really. I know you, and clearly nobody who’s spreading the rumours do.” Azalea smiles at the
belief Padma has in her, although she can’t feel that it’s well earned. The friendship the two of them
had had been a few months of talking in class, and that had ended a year ago. It’s been a long time
since they’ve even spoken.

“Yeah, thanks. At least someone believes I’m not a monster. I should probably get going.” Azalea
says, gesturing towards the door. ‘Lee’ll send a search party out if I take too long.”

“Lisa’ll probably studying gender differences in flying if I don’t get there soon too.” Padma agrees,
the two of them walking together and out the door. “Maybe we could study together sometime?”

“If you’re interested, we spend our free period Wednesdays working on Defense. You know,
teaching ourselves the spells Lockhart tells us about.” Azalea explains. “You can join us, and bring
whoever you want. We get together in one of the study rooms closest to Greek.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll let you know.” Padma waves goodbye and the two of them go their separate
ways

“Miss Dursley.” Professor Lockhart's voice calls from behind her. Azalea smiles and waves a little,
waiting at the top of the stairs leading down to the courtyard for the man to finish walking towards
her so they can walk together. “I have been wanting to check up on you since our little chat last
week. I apologize for not speaking to you before now, but you have had your friends determined to
stay by your side.”

Azalea rolls her eyes at Dudley and Ron’s behaviour. During Defense, Ron hadn’t even wanted to
let her go to the bathroom without him. “Yeah, he and Dudley have been like that for a few days.”

“I say they have reason to, with the time you’ve had lately.” He tells her, putting his hand on her
shoulder and squeezing. “How are you? I noticed you made front page of The Hogwarts Pages last
week. Horrid thing, negative press.”

“I thought the paper was charmed so Professors can’t read it?” She asks, glancing up at him. Azalea
really doesn’t care to talk about the article. Not only does it heavily imply that she’s the Heir, but it
also drags Fred and Percy through the mud, saying they know what’s happening and are
encouraging her.

Professor Lockhart smirks at her. “It is, but I lend an ear to those who need someone to talk to. You
are dodging my question again. Do you not like to talk about yourself?”

“Why do I need to when everybody else is?” She answers bitterly.

“That is when you most need to.” He tells her, dropping his hand from her shoulder and fixing the
cuffs of his shirt. “Put your own story out there. If you don’t, you’ll only ever be the subject of
rumours. If you need some advice, you can always come by my office.”

“What about some practical lessons?” Azalea asks. “We’ve been studying the spells you’ve taught
us, but Hermione thinks learning from a Professor would teach us more than learning from books.”
He smiles widely. “Smart girl. I do give students practical lessons if they want them, although my
personal teaching style is preferential to one-on-one lessons. I don’t currently know when I’m
available, but if you want to come to class early on Tuesday we could go over the stuff you know
already quickly and plan a time to meet for a proper lesson.”

They slow down, reaching the base of the stairs that lead up to the Gryffindor stands. “Sounds good.
Thank you, Professor.”

“Enjoy the game, Miss Dursley.” Professor Lockhart smiles at her, and for a second she can
understand exactly why Parvati giggles any time he’s brought up in conversation.

She locates her friends easily in the crowd, the two Hufflepuff supporters lighting up against the
scarlet, and she watch the two teams on the pitch face off as she moves to them, keepers being
announced as they fly into the air. The chasers and beaters are in the air by the time she’s sitting by
her friends, and she smiles at them, the energy of a game energizing her. “I thought I’d be late.”

“There was a delay.” Ron answers quickly, watching the Quaffle with rapt attention. “The
Hufflepuff seeker didn’t show, and they had to get their use of a reserve approved and let Lee
know.”

“I don’t see how you miss a game when we live on the grounds.” Hermione states, looking up from
her book and looking down at the pitch as the seekers are let into the game.

Hagrid shrugs. “‘s not so uncommon. Students fall asleep, er lose track o’ time.”

“Could be sick.” Neville supplies, getting a nod from Hagrid in response.

They’re about an hour into the game when Azalea notices movement. Professor McGonagall stands
at the staircase, face grim as she talks to the Gryffindor Top Student. He nods and moves to the
closest Prefect, whispering. “Something’s happening.” Azalea says, pointing her friends attention to
the Prefects as the news, whatever it is, spreads.

“Hagrid?” Hermione questions, turning to the large man. “What’s happening?”

“Nothin’, I’m sure.” He answers calmingly, the benches groaning as he stands. “Yeh lot stay ‘ere. I’ll
be righ’ back.” The five of them sit quietly, watching Hagrid make his way to Professor McGonagall
and start up a conversation. Around them, very few people seem to have noticed anything wrong,
and cheers at a goal drowned out the gasp they could see Hagrid let out. The conversation ends
quickly, with Hagrid making his way back, leaning close to their group. “Ron, Dudley, yeh two
gather yer things now. I’m gonna take yeh back to yer house. No arguin’.” He tells them sternly,
holding up his hand as they all go to object or ask questions. “They’re gonna make an
announcement. Let’s go.”

Azalea’s heart is racing as she says goodbye to her brother and Ron, watching them until they move
past Professor McGonagall and out of sight.

“What do you think’s going on?” Neville asks quietly.

Hermione scowls. “Nothing good.”

“Another attack?” Azalea asks, pulling her attention away from the staircase.

“Most likely.” Hermione agrees. “Although with all this, I bet it’s not ghosts or cats this time.”

Her skin crawls at the idea, and she scans the Gryffindors, checking that everyone she knows is
there. She doesn’t know very many people from Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw and Slytherin students
mostly didn’t show up for the game since their houses aren’t playing, and she hopes wherever her
friends are from those houses are they’re safe. Padma crosses her mind, walking to the library alone.

Madam Hooch walks onto the field, calling a time-out in the game, and Lee Jordan stops announcing
for a moment, before his voice rings out once more. “Alright, everyone. Otters seeker, Daniel Green,
has been petrified. Your Top Student, Prefects, and Head of House will be taking you back to your
dorm by year. If you are not sitting with your house, you will be escorted to your stands. All of this is
perfectly safe, and you have no reason to worry. The game will be resumed when the school has
been searched and either the culprit has been found or he has slithered back into his hidey-hole.” The
air goes silent, before being filled with the talking of the students. The seventh year students head out
first, checking in with Professor McGonagall as they walk past her.

“Why are we doing a headcount here? Why not back at the dorm?” Azalea asks, watching as the
sixth years start heading out.

“Making sure nobody else was hurt?” Neville guesses.

Hermione crosses her arms over her book, glaring at the parchment in their Head-of-House’s hands.
“They’re marking off suspects. If you were here you couldn’t have been attacking Daniel Green.”

That doesn’t seem to make sense to Azalea. Surely the attacker could have attacked and then made it
down here by now, if Green was missing since before team warm-ups. She doesn’t voice her
opinion, though, not wanting to give anyone who might overhear any belief that she was the one
behind it.

The second-years are escorted by a mix of prefects from all three years, and the walk up to the dorm
is unusually silent, portraits on the wall moving around quickly, either gossiping or helping out the
Professors with the sweep of the school.

Neville, Hermione, and Azalea are at the back of their group, and the common room falls silent as
they walk in. The eyes of nearly a thousand Gryffindors land on Azalea and she sets her jaw,
standing up straight, and dragging her gaze across the room to the middle, where Cormac McLaggen
stands with a victorious look in his eyes. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia stand from their seat, each of
them grabbing one of Azalea’s groups arms and leading them up the stairs towards the second year
dorm room and away from the hostile eyes.

“You hissed at him?!” Angelina asks loudly once they get into their bedroom. “What possibly
possessed you to think that was a good idea?”

“What, McLaggen? I was trying to get him to get the hell off of me.” She responds just as loudly, not
willing to back down. Hermione and Neville stand on either side of her protectively, the three of
them facing down the older girls. “If I have to his at someone to scare them away from me, then I’m
gonna fucking do it.”

“Okay, fine, then let’s go to the other problem. Why didn’t you tell anyone they were threatening
you?” Katie asks.

“Because if they won, it wouldn’t have mattered. If they lost, I was going to.”

“Besides, we told Percy.” Hermione interjects, and Azalea gives her a quick glare.

Katie looks at Alicia confused, and Alicia answer with a frown. “Percy Weasley. A Slytherin fifth
year prefect.”
“Percy Weasley, our friends older brother.” Neville argues, and Azalea stiffens at the way Alicia had
said ‘Slytherin’. Like it was a problem.

Katie spins her wand in her hand. “Either way, you should have told Oliver.”

Azalea argues again. “It would’ve just pissed them off. No punishment that could’ve been done to
them would’ve stopped them from lashing out.”

The three girls share looks before backing down. “Which beds are yours?” Katie asks instead,
gesturing to the five beds around the room. Azalea points to her bed instantly, Neville and Hermione
hesitating before asking what for. “We’re gonna put some protective runes on them. Right now,
you’re easy targets, and if you put up some sort of resistance hopefully they’ll back off.”

“Protection around our beds?” Hermione asks, her and Neville pointing out their own beds. “What
do you think they’ll do?”

“Whatever it is, it probably won’t be public.” Angelina tells them, sitting down on the edge of
Hermione’s bed and pointing her at the headboard. “We’ll do your trunk, table, and wardrobes as
well so they don’t go through your stuff.”

“Do you have specific showers you use?” Alicia questions from Neville’s bed. “We’ll do those as
well, along with your sink and cabinet.”

Azalea shares a concerned look with Hermione and Neville. She hadn’t even guessed that her things
could be part of an attack. “Is this because they couldn’t finish the game?” She asks.

“No.” Hermione looks at her with a scowl. “It’s because they think you attacked the Hufflepuff
seeker so the Griffins could win the game. Thankfully, that rumour is most likely confined in the
common room for now, but as soon as the lockdown’s over it’s gonna be all over the school.”

A pit develops in Azalea’s stomach, but she’s still wound up enough that she avoids having her
emotions fall into it. “Big deal. Everyone already thought that I was behind the other attacks, they
would’ve thought I was behind this one anyway.”

“So what do we do?” Neville asks. “Just let the school be wrong?”

“We find out who the heir actually is.” Hermione answers, pulling the two of them away from their
beds and whispering. “If the chamber was hidden through blood magic, and only the bloodline can
find it, both you and Dudley should be able to find it. Once you find it, we can find out who’s been
using it.”

“And if we can’t?” Azalea whispers back. “It’s a huge castle, and there’s no way of even guessing
where to start.”

Hermione answers easily. “If you can’t, we’ll start studying the other houses, see if we can find
anyone acting suspicious. We can start with what we can find out about the victims, and see if they
have anything in common.”

“Ghosts, cats, and a Hufflepuff seeker.” Neville lists off, looking at Hermione questioningly. “I don’t
know think we’ll get much from that.”

The three of them stand in their spot, quietly talking, while the older girls do their work. They’re only
interrupted once, to attune the different runes to their magic, letting them get into each others stuff.
Azalea thanks Katie quietly, while Neville and Hermione thank Angelina and Alicia when their done
with everything, Azalea getting a comforting hug before she’s left with her friends, sitting on
Neville’s bed.

They’re let out by the time dinner starts, and the three of them wait until most people should’ve left.
Almost everyone is gone, and they head out quickly, hoping not to draw the attention of the few
people still in the room.

Dean and Seamus join them on their way out the portrait hole. “So, Azalea, we’re friends.” Seamus
says as they walk together. They’ve hardly talked aside from a few different times, but Azalea isn’t
in the mood anymore to argue. “And friends should really know when each others birthdays are.
Mine’s March twenty-third, and Deans is January seventh. Hermione’s, we know is early in the
school year, and Neville’s is known by almost anyone thanks to his Gran taking out an article about
it every year. But you, and Dudley, nobody seems to know. All anyone can agree on is that it has to
be over summer.”

“Can’t say we ever really celebrated birthdays growing up.” Azalea answers flippantly. “It’s not
really important to me if people know.”

“Birthdays are really important.” Dean argues.

“We really don’t feel like doing this right now.” Hermione huffs, stopping and turning to the boys.
“Why don’t you just say what this is about.”

Neither of them seem inclined to, both of them muttering excuses, but Hermione keeps her
disapproving stare on them and Seamus’ resolve breaks. “There’s a rumour going around that you
two aren’t twins. Really, you don’t look all that much alike.”

“We were just trying to figure out if it was true or not.” Dean finishes explaining.

“Go figure.” Azalea says under her breath, starting to walk again, incredibly aggravated that people
can’t keep out of her life. At the very least, they could have the decency to keep Dudley out of it.
She doesn’t even look at the Gryffindor table when she enters the Great Hall, instead instantly
locking onto Dudley and Ron at the Hufflepuff table, sitting by her brothers side. “Just so you know,
the newest rumour is that we’re not related.”

“Technically, it’s that you’re not twins.” Hermione corrects her, sitting next to Neville on the other
side of the table.

“Which means what?” Azalea stabs a pork chop from the serving plate and sets in on her plate, the
fork still standing straight up. “That one of us is adopted? That our father had an affair and we’re half
siblings? We celebrate our birthdays over summer, meaning we can’t be siblings who were born
close together, because then we’d be in different years like Ron and Ginny.” Part of that is a lie,
technically, since Dudley’s birthday happens in the last week of school, but they celebrate it when
they get home, so the main point still stands. “It’s a bunch of bullshit is what it is.”

Ron raises his eyebrows. “Can you blame them? Wizards are used to twins like Fred and George, or
Padma and Parvati. I doubt they’ve ever heard of twins born so differently, I mean you two don’t
even have the same skin color.”

Azalea glances and Dudley’s pale complexion. She’s inherited her birth-fathers skin color, and
before she knew that she thought she had gotten it from the person her father had had her with. They
can look the same, if Dudley spends a lot of time outside getting tan and she’s stuck inside. Add to
that her dark, curly hair and green eyes compared to his blonde, straight hair and blue eyes. Really,
the fact that nobody’s tried to bring it up before now is a miracle. “Guess we tell people what Mom
and Dad always told us.” Azalea tells her brother, before sighing and looking at their friends,
ignoring people clearly listening in around them. “Dad had an affair when Mom was pregnant. He
ended up getting her pregnant, and she dropped me off the first of the year. She didn’t tell him my
real birthday, so we’ve always called it January first.”

Hermione, Neville, and Ron all know the truth, but they are fairly confused at the story they haven’t
heard before, and Azalea finishes quickly. “They never wanted anyone to know because it would’ve
been a big scandal with Dad’s family. So we had to pretend we’re twins to make him feel better,
pretty much.”

Ron’s the quickest to recover. “Typical. There’d be a huge scandal is someone had a child outside of
their wedding bond for us, too.”

“I can’t imagine if my dad had another kid.” Hermione contributes.

There’s a few moments of silence, wherein Dudley taps Azalea’s plate to remind her to eat. Neville
looks between all of them. “Any idea of when they’re finishing today's game?”

“Tomorrow.” Ron answers, eager to talk about Quidditch. “They’re giving the team the night to
adjust to what happened, and the game’ll happen after lunch.”

“Doesn’t seem like very long to get used to your friend being petrified.” Neville scrunches his face
up. “Did you two know him?”

Ron shakes his head, mouth full of food, and Dudley answers. “Never. The whole house is freaking
out, though. He’s a muggleborn, they all think it’s proof that it’s the Heir ‘purging the school’.”

“We don’t know it’s not.” Hermione responds, sharing looks with Neville and Azalea that bring
back the conversation they had in the bedroom. “We don’t actually know anything.”

“We know it’s someone claiming to be related to Slytherin.” Ron argues, taking a second to swallow
before continuing. “Most magical families are really open about their bloodline, so it’s probably
someone from a newer house that isn’t very well known.”

“That won’t help us, Ron. There are thousands of families in the UK.” Hermione puts her hand in
her hair, frustrated. “And if we try to include families that have left, or families that have come in
from somewhere else, it’s nearly impossible to find anything helpful.”

Neville looks between Ron and Hermione tentatively. “So what to we do?” He asks. The five of
them sit in silence, each of them realizing they don’t have much of a chance of figuring out this
mystery any time soon.
 Chapter 11

“Miss Dursley, please, take a seat. Thank you for coming.” Headmaster Dumbledore smiles at her,
gesturing to the seat across from his desk. She complies, sitting nervously, avoiding looking him
directly in the eye. Ever since she had read about legilimency, she hasn’t trusted anyone. “Now, I’m
sure you must know why we need to talk.”

Azalea agrees that there’s really only one thing it could be. “The attacks, and the Heir.” She says, not
liking the way she feels like she needs to defend herself against something she didn’t do. “Everyone
thinks it’s me.”

“Not everyone.” The Headmaster says reassuringly. “I fully trust you are innocent. However, your
circumstances do work against you. Now, this is all nearly a formality, but I do need you to talk
openly.” Azalea nods, staying quiet. She watches as he opens a scroll in front of him. “Let’s start
with most the most recent event. Some of the boys from the Griffins threatened you to make them
win?”

“Kind of. They said that they would hold me accountable if they lost, but they never tried to get me
to make them win.” She answers. “I don’t know how I would have made them win, anyway.
They’re know more magic than I do.”

“Some good points. However, you were late to the game, and young Mister Green never showed up
at all.”

“I left my friends to go to the bathroom, where I was talking to Padma.”

He raises his eyebrows, looking at her over his glasses. “Miss Patil, yes? The one you went to the
New Years Ball with last year?”

“How do you even know that?” Azalea frowns, eyes trying to see what was on the parchment that
he is writing her answers down on. “Yes, I went to the dance with her. I don’t see how it matters.”

“Everything is important, although I doubt it will make a difference in the end.” He tells her, before
continuing on. “They threatened you because of your interaction with Mister McLaggen, which
happened the day before another attack. If I remember correctly, you were reporting the assault when
the attack was noticed.”

“I was with Professor Snape. He came and called me into a meeting during History.”

“Which he did because you left a notice for him in his office, yes? Strange that you would go to our
resident potions master for an issue such as this instead of your head-of-house. It’s my understanding
that women feel more comfortable speaking of these kind of issues to other women.”

Her eyes stay locked on the parchment, an uncomfortable feeling twisting her stomach. “I didn’t
want to talk about it at all, I was told I should. And I trust Professor Snape.”

“Well I would say that that feeling is mutual. There are not many who he allows in his office when
he’s not there.” He tells her, his eyes seeming to twinkle behind his half-moon glasses. “When did
you leave the note for him?”

“After Transfiguration.” She grips the sides of the chair, muscles tightening. “I went straight from
class to his office to History.”
“Alone? Surely, one of your classmates could have walked with you. Everyone does have HIstory of
Magic together after all.”

“They would’ve been late.” It feels like the most obvious thing in the world to her, not that she was
going to ask anyone to walk with her even if it weren’t the case. “If I was able to report it then then I
would have been late, and nobody else needed to be late.” The Headmaster nods at her, opening his
mouth to continue, and she interrupts him, looking at the side of his glasses instead of his eyes.
“Professor this is starting to feel like an interrogation. If you don’t think I did anything, then what is
all this about?”

“You did nothing wrong, Miss Dursley.” He sets the parchment down in front of him, clasping his
hands together and placing them down on top of it. “You were, however, chosen last year by
Professor Quirrel, or rather the shade of Voldemort that was possessing him. That could be an
indication that he might have a way to hold power over you. You haven’t spoken to anyone about
what happened in that corridor.”

“I told you what happened.” Azalea argues. “And if he was... what, controlling me? I would know.
My friends would know. Everyone noticed when Professor Quirrel changed.”

“That’s if you assume he were to be possessing you. No, what I’m suggesting is an influence you
wouldn’t be able to see. Something that could come out when your emotions run high. Lashing out
after your incident with Mister Mclaggen, defending yourself when threatened. Even Samhain, the
day you have learned that your Aunt and Uncle, as well as baby cousin, were murdered could have
been a trigger to something you don’t even know is there.”

“Is that possible?” She asks, the twisting in her stomach taking a dive, leaving her empty. “I’m
always with my friends. I’m always with someone. If I just disappeared for periods of time someone
would notice.”

“Our conversation so far has proved that you do spend quite a lot of time on your own. And
anything can be done with magic, especially if one is willing to dive as far into dark, dangerous
magic as Voldemort is prone to do.”

“It’s not me.” Azalea argues again, weaker than before. She would never try to hurt anyone, but if
someone could be using her body to do it instead, then who knows.

A voice that she hasn’t heard in nearly a year laughs in the back of her head. ‘ Magic’s dangerous,
and it’s unnatural. ’ Her mother's voice reminds her. ‘It’s better to stomp it out than live like that.’

“We have every resource in the school working on this issue.” He pulls her out of her thoughts,
startling her into looking straight at him. “Until we figure it out, I am going to request that you wear a
tracker. It can be anything you wear at all times, if you wish it to be something of your own.”

“Why me, sir?” She asks, slowly taking her earrings out of her ears and handing them over. “I’ve
been trying to figure it out all summer. He could have taken anyone, even just anyone in my year if
he went by what we saw in the mirror. What made him choose me?”

The Headmaster takes the earrings and stands, walking to the side of the room and doing something
to them, his back to her. “It’s hard to tell. Voldemort lost what humanity he had long ago, and
drinking unicorn blood while in our forest certainly had an effect on him. Perhaps he saw something
in the essay you wrote about what you saw, perhaps he thought he could convince you to help him.
These are very pretty. Garnet, are they? Your birthstone?” He asks, and she nervously nods in
agreement. He turns around, flicking his wand into its holster and walking up to her. “Or perhaps
you simply looked like the most recent victim he had before he fell. You have your aunts eyes, after
all.” He holds his hand out and she takes her earrings back, holding them a second before putting
them back into her ears. “Do you know if you take after your birth mother at all? I’ve come across
your adoption record, and she’s not mentioned anywhere.”

Azalea blinks, using the motion of putting in her earring to point her face to the ground and think.
“All I know is she dropped me off on the first of the year in eighty-one. We don’t know when I was
born, and I didn’t have any papers. A blood test proved I was related, and so I was adopted.” She
avoids thinking that if he found her records, he would be able to see that she’s related to her mom not
her dad, and she was found at a hospital rather than the front steps.

“And why did he not put her name on the birth certificate? It is very strange to find one with an
unknown mother and a known father.”

She blinks at him this time, confused. “I didn’t know.... I guess he didn’t want her to have any real
claim to me.” She answers, thinking of her father. Has he somehow changed things so their mom
can’t get custody of them again? Or just her? Does she still have a chance to get Dudley back?
“Thank you, Professor. Can I go now?”

With a gentle reminder to keep her earrings in until told otherwise, she’s allowed to leave. By now,
breakfast is over and she ditches Duelling, instead going up to the gym and working with her
favourite gymnastics coach, avoiding the eyes of the older students that come in and out of the room.
After a short while she moves to her years training area to avoid them. Her only break is when her
training forces her to break for lunch, and Azalea hides in the locker room, stretching and letting her
muscles relax, too wound up to ask a house elf for food like she told the coach she would. After a
sufficient amount of time, she goes back to training, pushing her body to avoid what's going on in
her mind.

Neville climbs on the trampoline with her during one of her cool downs, laying with her and looking
up at the ceiling as though it’s the stars. “A sixth year told us they saw you in here.” He tells her.

“I’m shocked it’s just you.” She answers bitterly. Although she knows she shouldn’t be alone for
fear of being framed for attacking someone else, she wants nothing more than to have alone time.

“Hermione’s telling Dudley and Ron. We were heading down to dinner.” On cue, her coach tells her
she has to eat again, and then be done with practice for the day. She’s already done more than she
should have been allowed to.

“Yeah, me too I guess.” She fights back a groan as she sits up, the trampoline making moving
difficult on her overworked muscles. “I’m gonna go get changed and take a shower.” She tells
Neville, climbing down and moving into the locker room again, giving a long look to the shower
before resigning herself to standing in the water, keeping her hair dry so she doesn’t have to do
anything with it. The few sounds of people coming in or out of the room makes her freeze, and it had
to of been half an hour or more by the time she leaves the water, getting dressed and heading out into
the hallway.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dudley hits her upside the head before hugging her. “What
happened?”

“Good to know you weren’t expelled.” Ron greets her as Hermione follows Dudleys lead with the
hug.

Azalea rolls her eyes, accepting both hugs and reciprocating neither. “Apparently I am suspect
number one.” She looks between them all, muscles threatening to give out on her. “Look, I’ll tell
everything tomorrow. Right now I’m just really not in the mood and I’m just gonna go lay down.”
She starts walking, somehow leading and being in the middle of her group at the same time.

“You really should eat.” Hermione urges, hovering by her side. “Wood already came up to us at
lunch asking if you were eating somewhere else.”

“Shocked he wasn’t checking to make sure I wasn’t expelled.” Azalea allows herself a fond smile.
Her crush on him is long gone, but his love of Quidditch is always endearing to her.

“Or, heaven forbid, you were kicked off the team.” Dudley continues her thought, dramatically
acting as though he was horrified at the simple idea.

“He said he would have been told by then if he needed to replace you on the team.” Hermione tells
her before frowning at her again. “He’s not gonna like it if you miss another meal.”

“I had a house-elf bring me lunch.” She lies quickly. “And I had finished most of my breakfast
before McGonagall led me out. Missing dinner won’t be too bad, and I’m too tired to eat right now
anyway.” They chat some more as her friends escort her to the entrance to the common room.

“We’ll bring you some dessert.” Neville promises her quietly as he, Hermione, and Ron head away
Dudley waving them off.

“You should go with them.” Azalea tells Dudley, turning and giving the password to the portrait as
Dudley gives her a look that says she should know better than that.

“Fat chance.” He tells her. “I’ve been looking for you since the game finished. The Griffins lost. Lee
says Hufflepuff was flying for their fallen teammate”

They walk together, silently, until they get to her dorm room, freezing in the doorway at the sight of
her stuff thrown around. Her clothes are piled around the wardrobe, as though someone had stood
and pulled everything out. Everything inside her desk is scattered around, on top of the desk and on
the floor around it. Her trunk is on its side on her mattress, unopened amongst the chaos.

“What the hell?” Azalea hears Dudley exclaim as she moves forward into the mess, attention flitting
between everything, unable to focus on any one thing. LIly’s journal is hanging halfway off the
desk, her neat handwriting pointing up towards the ceiling, thankfully invisible to everyone but her
and Dudley. “I’m gonna kick those guys’ asses.” He slams his fist into his open hand, and Azalea
flinches back, looking at him with wide eyes.

A heartbeat passes and she looks away, moving toward her bed. If they managed to get into her
trunk, what would happen to her? She hisses the password quietly, breathing a sigh of relief that the
inside is undisturbed. If they had found the philosopher’s stone, it wouldn’t just be her that got into
trouble. Hermione would go down with her as an accomplice, and then Dudley for knowing and not
reporting her. They could probably lie and say Neville and Ron never knew anything, but with
potential mind-readers or truth potions the chances of that are slim. Would they all have just been
expelled, or would she be put in jail? Saying that she tried to return it to Nicholas Flamel but the owl
wouldn’t take it probably wouldn’t be taken well. “I thought that Katie was overreacting.” Azalea
says quietly, placing a hand on either side of the trunk and leaning forward, closing her eyes and
curling up a little.

“Wait, yeah. I thought those girls from your team were supposed to protect your stuff?” Dudley
points towards the door as he stomps towards her, and she jerks back upright, slamming her trunk
shut and turning on him.

“Don’t you snap at me, Dudley!” She yells, staring him down as he stops in his tracks. “I am the one
whose stuff got trashed, not yours. My friends did the best they could, they warned us they aren’t as
experienced as the stupid boys who did this. So you can either go get yourself put in the hospital
wing by trying to take on an entire Quidditch team or you can calm down and help me clean up.”
She turns away and storms to her wardrobe, pulling out one of the drawers on the bottom and sitting
on the ground with it, meticulously folding and putting her undergarments away. The sound of her
trunk being set on the ground lets her know that Dudley’s joined her, and the two of them work in
silence, Dudley making the bed and then organizing her desk while Azalea puts her clothes back
where they belong.

Done cleaning, Azalea crawls into her bed, body and soul exhausted by the day. “Didn’t mean to get
so.. mean.” Dudley apologizes, laying next to her and stretching his arm out, allowing her to burrow
her face in his chest. “It’s just, those guys piss me off so much.”

A tired laugh escapes Azalea. “You spend too much time around Ron. Grandma is gonna be so
offended when she hears you swearing like that.”

“She won’t.” He assures her, and she can feel his chest puff up slightly. “I know how to censor
myself. I’ve never sworn in class.”

“Not loud enough for the professors to hear, anyway.” Azalea smiles, eyes sliding shut as she yawns,
smiling at the movement in his chest as he gives her a small, silent laugh. It’s familiar, the feeling of
curling up with him, although the familiarity only emphasizes what’s changed. His thin form has
grown, bulking up through his boxing training, causing her head to point up slightly instead of flat
like it always had. His arm around her is soft, muscles covering the bones she had been able to feel
before.

Life’s changed, or is in the process of changing. Whether it’s for the better or worse Azalea can’t
figure out. Dudley seems to be much better off now, but her life seems to have more downs than ups
lately.

She’s still in the state between sleep and consciousness when Hermione, Ron, and Neville show up,
offering them food they brought up. Azalea groans and rolls away from the sound, allowing Dudley
to get up and join the others. The sound of the four of them laughing and talking causes her to shove
her face into her pillow, torn between her negative mood and the comfort her friends give her.

The sound lulls her to sleep, and she’s next aware of darkness and silence. The floating clock lets her
know that it’s hours before even the earliest risers will be awake, and Azalea pulls herself to a sitting
position, edges of her mouth twitching up at the pile of treacle tarts on her bedside table. She forces
herself to grab one, slowly munching on it as she makes her way to the bathroom to do her morning
routine.

Taking as long as she can in the bathroom, Azalea leaves a note for Hermione before leaving the
common room, not wanting to hang around and risk getting the attention of an aggressive older
student. Broom in hand, she uses a red floating lumos to light her way through the halls and outside,
taking off into the air before the door shuts behind her. She pushes her broom as hard as she can,
clinging tightly to it and making herself small to go as fast as she can. The lake gets closer rapidly
and then she’s flying over it, watching the ripples she creates by flying as close to the water as she
can manage without getting wet.

She curves around the edge and goes back over the length of the lake, dropping one hand from the
broom and feeling it break through the surface repeatedly, dragged fast enough to sting with every
hit.

Azalea makes it to the middle and grabs her broom tightly, shifting to go straight up. Her arms and
legs strain to keep her on, and she enjoys the burn before shifting position again, going upside down
and then diving straight back towards the lake. Her heart races at the sight of the water getting closer,
and she pulls up as it gets feet away from her face, trying to direct her momentum and weight well
enough to stay dry.

One foot smashes into the water, and she tightens her core and steadies herself, hardly able to keep
herself from flipping off the broom and causing a splash.

A laugh escapes her throat, the rush of the dive boosting her mood greatly. She’s smiling, spinning
on her broom as she flies across the surface of the lake, when a movement catches her eye near the
castle. The fact that she’s breaking curfew crosses her mind for the first time and she stills on her
broom, cursing herself for wearing her scarlet and gold windbreaker.

The figure, however, isn’t large enough to be a prefect or a professor. Azalea slowly peels herself off
of the broom, sitting up straight and squinting at the figure. A green jumper and purple baseball cap
cause her to smile, and Azalea takes off again, flying towards the girl quickly making her way
towards the quidditch pitches, orange hair flying over her shoulder as she glances back towards the
castle.

“Early morning walk?” Azalea asks quietly, talking feeling strange on the moonlit grounds.

Ginny jumps and spins towards her, fists held up in front of her, brown eyes locking onto Azalea’s
form, laying on the broom slightly above her head height. A relieved smile creeps across her face and
she drops her hands, brushing her hands along the gold G on her chest. “I thought you were a
prefect.”

Azalea raises an eyebrow, putting her broom into a slight movement, heading towards the main
pitch. “You were gonna punch a prefect?” She questions, mimicking Ginny’s fist-up position and
copying Dudley’s boxing form to the best of her ability, punching the air in front of her.

“I’ve punched a prefect hundreds of times. Happens when you live with them.” Ginny shrugs, a fond
smile on her face.

“A lot in the family?” Azalea asks, trying to remember what Ron has told her. Percy, obviously, and
then Charlie was Quidditch Captain. She thinks Bill might’ve been the one that was Top Gryffindor.

“Everyone so far.” Ginny answers her, before looking at Azalea with a smirk. “So you’re on the
quidditch team.”

“I am.” Azalea responds, a tentative tone lacing her words.

“So you can get into the broom shed, right?” Ginny says, the question not sounding like a question at
all.

“I can. You didn’t seem like you needed any help, though.” Azalea lays back down onto her broom,
keeping her eye level around Ginny’s head.

A smile graces the younger girls face again as she pulls out a small metal object, flipping it in the air
before catching it and holding it up to show Azalea, who can only think it looks like a pocket knife.
“I figure the school would like it more if I don’t pick the lock to get in today.” Ginny puts the object
back into the pocket of her jeans and Azalea laughs. Ginny picks the best of the school brooms with
practiced ease, and the two of them pull out one of the practice balls, flying into the air and throwing
it back and forth, considering it a win when the other person can’t make the catch.

“How long have you two been out here?” Oliver Woods voice cuts through the air, and Azalea
makes a quick catch and turns towards her captain, shocked to see anyone else in the darkness that
covers the grounds.

“Depends, what time is it?” Ginny yells back, flying forward to sit next to Azalea.

“Little after five.” Oliver leans on his broom, looking up at them with two raised eyebrows. “You’re
not half bad, Weasley. Keep practicing with this one and you’ll be on a team no problem next year.
Try not to do it during curfew, though.” He nods at them, standing and moving towards the
Gryffindor practice pitch before stopping and turning around. “Or, just, don’t get caught. And go eat
breakfast.”

“Did he just encourage us to break curfew?” Ginny asks with a giggle in her voice, and Azalea gives
a wide smile.

“As long as we’re practicing Quidditch, he’d encourage us to skip class.” She tucks the ball under
her arm, lowering her broom towards the ground. “Only thing as important to practice to him is meal
time. I’m pretty sure he keeps track of every team member's eating habits.”

Ginny’s smile cracks slightly. “I remember Charlie talking about that. It makes sense he’d take it
seriously after everything.”

“Wait, what happened?” Azalea questions. “Katie told me something about eating disorders, but I
didn’t know that that came from anything.”

“I mean, I don’t remember much about it.” Ginny plants her feet on the ground, swinging off of the
broom and leaning sideways on it, arm stretched over it. “Charlie was captain, and one of the girls on
his team was pretty bulky. Fully in shape, apparently, but still bigger than the other people on the
team. She stopped eating to get skinnier, and ended up fainting during a game. Charlie had spent the
new years break asking Mum if she thought he should visit her at St. Mungo’s. He did, just before
going back to school, and he came back super upset. She was pulled from school by the hospital, and
when she came back a few months later she couldn’t play on the team because of what it did to her
mind.”

Azalea didn’t know what to say. Was that really the kind of thing that Oliver thought she’d get
caught up in? “He doesn’t have to worry about that happening to me.” She states.

Ginny agrees. “Yeah, me either. Can’t imagine willingly missing meals.”

They chat their way to the Great Hall after bringing the broom and ball back to the shed. “I’m gonna
have to take a nap before class. If I doze off in Aldebrandi’s class again he’ll probably give me
detention.”

“I got to bed early last night. How much did you sleep if you’re already needing a nap?”

“Four, maybe five hours?” Ginny guessing, pushing the castle doors open while shrugging.

Azalea gives her a look, thinking that the girl was joking. “So you woke up in the middle of the night
to fly? Why not just do it between classes?”

“Habit.” She answers easily. “Mum hates me wanting to fly. Only time I could manage it without
getting caught was really early in the morning.” Sighing, she looks down at her jeans mourningfully.
“I suppose I also have to get into my uniform. Merlin I hate having to wear that skirt every day.”

“You didn’t get any pants?” Azalea asks. She knows Ron’s got a few different uniforms, the idea
that Ginny only has the one doesn’t make sense.
Ginny looks at her suspiciously before softening. “I forget you and Dudley come from money. I
could only get one uniform, and Mum was really uptight about what I got, making sure I was dressed
how she thinks a girl should be.”

“But Ron has different uniforms.” Azalea scrunches her eyebrows, trying to make sense of it. Not
having the money she can understand, but having the money for one child and not another is
something that is lost on her. “He changed after getting sprayed by a plant a few days ago.”

“He’s got the hand-me-downs that don’t fit the twins anymore.” Ginny says, before scowling and
rolling her eyes. “Not that he fits Charlies smaller clothes anymore. I tried to take them, but she
flipped when Ron said it wasn’t packed in his trunk.”

“Do you want mine?” Azalea offers. The Great Hall doors are open, only a few early risers eating
breakfast already, and the two of them sit at the end of the Gryffindor table. “Yours was burnt, right?
That’s why you wear Luna’s?”

Ginny flushes slightly. “It was... partially dissolved. But I’m not a charity case, Azalea. I don’t want
or need you to give me your clothes.”

“It’s not like I wear them. They’re sitting at home in a closet, I haven’t touched them since putting
them away when I got home.” Ginny hesitates, and Azalea decides that it’s not debatable. “Just stop
by the house during the break and go through the stuff. Really, I don’t know what else to do with
stuff that doesn’t fit me anymore. You’d be doing me a huge favor.”

She gets a small smile as Ginny takes a bite of food. “Mum can’t know. If she thinks the clothes are
something I shouldn’t be wearing she’d make me bring them back.”

“Why’s she so uptight about what you wear?” Azalea asks. “Dad doesn’t care as long as I’m
dressed, and Mom didn’t care as long as it didn’t cost her money.”

“Think she’s the type who says to be a girl I have to dress like a girl.” Ginny gives another shrug,
focusing on stabbing her next bite before continuing. “And apparently the only right way to dress
like a girl is how she dresses.”

They sit and talk while eating for the next ten minutes before Azalea grabs her broom and they take
the trek back up to their common room, getting a sharp comment from the portrait about them being
out so early. The two girls share a laugh and split off, back to their own dorms, Azalea just hoping
that Hermione is still sleeping so she doesn’t have to be scolded about breaking curfew.

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