Chapter Text
Ariel Rosetta Anderson was an extraordinary child, marked by her unique talents and fiery temperament. By the age of four, she was levitating cutlery at dinner, much to the astonishment and occasional frustration of her non-magical father.
By the time she was eight, her temper tantrums could shatter glass, prompting her father, Michael Anderson, to tread carefully around his beloved yet unpredictable daughter. Despite his love and adoration, Michael felt a growing weariness, his hair turning grey under the strain of raising a magical child without any magic of his own.
His relief was palpable when Ariel’s acceptance letter to Hogwarts arrived, promising some respite and guidance for his gifted child.
Now, as Ariel prepared to embark on her second year at Hogwarts, she hoped for a year without the chaos that seemed to follow Harry Potter. Ariel had known Harry from the numerous holidays their families spent together, where they often clashed over trivial matters, escalating into memorable arguments that seemed to entertain both families. Yet, despite their history of bickering, Ariel couldn’t help but feel a begrudging curiosity about him.
The previous year had been anything but ordinary. Ariel still resented the memory of being petrified by the Basilisk, a situation she felt could have been avoided if Harry had acted sooner. She often shared these grievances with her two best friends, Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley, during their back-to-school shopping trips in Diagon Alley.
Diagon Alley was like a second home to Ariel. She cherished the rich aroma of shepherd’s pie wafting from the Leaky Cauldron and the lively chatter of witches and wizards bustling about. The highlight, however, was reuniting with Luna and Ginny. As Ariel exited Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, she was greeted by an exuberant hug from her friends, their laughter echoing down the cobbled street.
As they perused the stores, saving Flourish and Blotts for last, Ginny’s excitement over the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum was infectious. “Look, we’re going to learn about Red-Caps, Hinky-Punks, and even Boggarts!” Ginny exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Ariel, attempting to maintain her usual skepticism, shrugged. “Well, if the curriculum isn’t trash, then the teacher shouldn’t be too bad.” Despite her attempt at nonchalance, her laughter soon mingled with Ginny’s and Luna’s.
The trio’s afternoon of mischief came to an end after a playful incident resulted in their polite expulsion from Flourish and Blotts. As Ginny and Ariel returned to the Leaky Cauldron, they were greeted by the Weasley family, including Harry Potter. Ariel internally groaned but maintained a polite facade.
Harry, ever the gentleman despite their tumultuous history, approached Ariel with a smile full of silly humour. “Hello, I’m Harry Potter, but you probably know that. What’s your name?”
Ariel met his gaze, her voice cool yet cordial. “Ariel Anderson, in Ginny’s year.” With that, she turned away, leaving Harry puzzled by her apparent aloofness.
“What’s her problem?” Harry mused aloud, turning to Ginny. “I was just making a joke, and I thought we got along well enough, even with all the bickering during the holidays.”
Ginny, ever the mediator, shrugged sympathetically. “Ariel’s just…complicated. Give her time.”
As Ginny retreated to Ariel’s room, she found her friend smiling, a mix of nostalgia and anticipation in her eyes. Ginny sighed, sensing that this year at Hogwarts would be anything but ordinary. Perhaps, amidst the inevitable challenges, Harry and Ariel might finally find common ground.
Notes:
decided to edit this chapter to fit the story!!
Chapter 2: Chapter 2:
Summary:
Train ride to hogwarts, and more!
Sorry its taken more than a month!
<3
Chapter Text
The Hogwarts Express was gleaming scarlet and ebony, the steam billowing out of the pipe. The students were excited as always, but the parents had worry etched all over their faces. Ariel couldn’t blame them; a serial killer with the name of Sirius Black was on the loose. She boarded the train and went into hers, Ginny’s and Luna’s compartment. Luna wasn’t there; she probably went into a compartment with Colin Creevy, a boy Ariel knew for a fact that Luna fancied.
“There you are! I was looking for you for ages.” Ginny’s voice snapped Ariel out of her thoughts. The train started with a jolt, and the girls fell onto the seats, a dramatic “OOMPH!” coming from the red-head.
Ariel snorted. “I was waiting here for you for ages.”
“Well, if you have three older brothers that go Hogwarts, you would be late as well.” replied Ginny with a faux-attitude, a smile trying to ruin her serious expression.
Ariel laughed; she loved the banter they had. It grounded her. Her school life was so much better than her home life. Her mother died when Ariel was so young that she can’t even remember the colour of her hair. And her father, well, he was so uninterested in Ariel’s life that sometimes Ariel had to remind herself that he wasn’t the Bloody Baron.
The girls fell into an easy silence, Ariel reading the DADA textbook and Ginny finishing off the last few pumpkin pastries. The sky turned into an inky-blue and both girls changed into their scarlet and gold robes. The train suddenly stopped, and both girls lurched forward. The lights flickered on and off, until they were gone for good.
“What’s going on?!” shouted Ginny somewhere in the darkness. Ariel tried to look for her in the blackout, but she tripped and hit her face in the window.
It was cold. Ice-cold. That shouldn’t happen. Ariel frantically looked for her wand, and told Ginny to do the same.
“Ariel! Ariel, where are you? Urgh, lumos!” The light from Ginny’s yew wand was weak, and it died after a few feeble flickers.
An idea sprouted in Ariel’s panic-ridden mind, and it was an idea she would not like. But she was desperate, and Ariel would certainly feel safer in the dark with a fully grown wizard.
“C’mon. Let’s go to your brother’s compartment. We’ll be safer there.” suggested Ariel, grabbing onto Ginny’s hand tightly.
The two girls ran hand-in-hand, Ariel’s heart in her throat and Ginny’s breathing erratic. Ariel looked back, and saw a billowy figure a few feet behind them. The air around them became colder, and Ariel could barely breathe, her lungs wanting to explode.
Sensing Ariel’s lack of breath, Ginny gripped her friend’s hand tightly and ran the last few feet. The red-head opened the door vigorously and the girls tumbled in; Ginny falling onto Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor in the year above them, and Ariel falling into Potter’s arms.
“Ouch! Who’s there?” gasped Potter, groping in the darkness and accidently putting his hand over Ariel’s mouth.
She ripped his hand away and hissed, “It’s me, you prat-” but before she could finish her sentence, the dementor whooshed into the compartment, sucking away all the remaining hope and happiness. It stood still, scanning the room for something, or someone. Ariel didn't dare to move, not with the dementor right next to her. It swooped down, and before Ariel could make sense of anything, she was pushed out of the way of the dementor, the Boy Who Lived taking the full brunt of the attack.
The dementor began eating away at Potter, his screams drilling themselves into Ariel’s brain. Merlin, he was annoying, but Ariel would never wish a dementor upon him. Not even on the worst criminals. Finally, after a few seconds of torture, the professor that was the reason Ariel and Ginny came to this compartment stood up, and said loud and clearly, “Expecto Patronum!”. A wispy white shield filled the compartment, giving a sense of protection. It chased the dementor out, and the shield vanished. Ariel shakily got up, and went up to the now unconscious Harry Potter, placing him onto the seats and moving away numbly.
The professor walked to the unconscious boy, and whispered a spell. Potter woke up gasping for air like a fish out of water. The professor helped him up, and told him to calm down. He helped steady his breathing. He held his hand. He did everything that Ariel could’ve done but wouldn’t do. And then he left. Left only giving the shocked boy a chunk of chocolate.
Chatter did not come back as easily as it should have. Everyone was in a shocked ordeal. Especially Potter. Though Ariel resented him for reasons even she does not know, she truly felt sorry. The black-haired boy looked like he’d seen the tortured ghosts of his past, or saw a horrific future with death and destruction around the corner. And Ariel had no idea how to make him feel better. It’s not like it was her job; that was mainly for Ron and the brunette who she found out to be Hermione. But she was so close to being in Potter’s shoes. If he had not pushed her out the way, then who knows what Ariel’s current state of mind would be.
The train slowed down with a gentle lurch, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels fading as it pulled into Hogsmeade station. The students of Hogwarts left the train; first years going on the boat ride, and the older years riding the horseless carriages. The ride to Hogwarts was quiet. The dementor attack was still in their mind, toying with their morality like a cruel joke. After what seemed like an infinite silence with Luna, Ginny, Colin and Ariel not saying a word, they all made their way into the Great Hall, giving small smiles of encouragement to the nervous first years when they passed by.
The whole night was filled with a loud silence. The feast was hushed. The walk to the dormitories was muted. Even the girls in Ariel’s dormitory were speechless. It felt as if the whole of Hogwarts was holding its breath, and the silence would only cease when some rays of sunshine could be seen reflecting on the Black Lake. For now, it seemed that the students would replay their own traumatic events that happened during the last few hours to the castle, and let the cold memory haunt their thoughts, and in some cases, their dreams.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3:
Summary:
TW: There is a nightmare at the start, don't know if it's unsettling, but some people could find it triggering.
Thanks for all of the kudos and support btw!
<3
Notes:
You guys are a lucky bunch!
One chapter last week;
And another this week!Don't think I have a schedual tho..
I'm very sporadic when I shouldn't be;)
Chapter Text
Ariel felt a cold, empty shiver pour through her body like she was made of nothing but cracks. It felt like she could never experience happiness again. As if every joy-filled moment she had experienced meant nothing and just disappeared like a whisper in harsh winds. It felt like hours of this, days even, of Ariel floating in nothing as every bit of hope and happiness was removed from her heart.
She continued to float in the freezing void, trying her hardest to process what was happening and where she was. Ariel couldn’t open her eyes, as if they were being held down by a force she couldn’t feel. She sensed something moving around her, the faint sound of the swishing of a cloak being carried away in the chilly breeze. Ariel’s breathing became more rapid the closer it got to her, loud, unequal and ragged breaths echoing in the abyss.
Closer-
Louder–
.......
Silence.
The movement and ragged gasping had stopped just a few inches away from Ariel. Her breathing continued rapidly, now shaky, as she felt something looming over her. Something evil, corrupt, and devoid of life–
Something totally wrong.
Something icy and sharp rolled down Ariel’s face. It slowly moved down her cheeks furiously as her breathing grew more rapid when a cold, skinless hand grabbed the side of Ariel’s face. Long nails and boney joints dug into her, jerking Ariel’s face in their direction. Her eyes flew open as their nails dug deep into her skin, almost breaking the tissue.
Ariel’s eyes were blurry from tears as she watched the creature lean over her. It was large and billowy, the most un-human-like thing Ariel had seen. Where should’ve been a face was a terrifying mouth, enough teeth to bite off Ariel’s head clean. The only thing she could see of this creature besides the mutilated face was its pale, boney fingers and long cracked nails as they dug into Ariel’s dampened cheeks. She stared at the creature, terror rippling through her as they studied each other in the overwhelming silence.
The monster leaned closer into Ariel’s face, its death-like hands gripping her face tighter. Then it began sucking the soul out of her, like a kiss but with clear intentions to kill and torture. Ariel began screaming, as every remaining happy memory and thoughts were taken forcefully. The pain wasn’t just having her happiness taken away; it was much more. The longer the beast sucked out her soul, the more agony Ariel felt within her core, the very best and magical part of Ariel. The vile creature finally stopped, and let go of Ariel’s cheek. She felt total paralysis. The feeling was horrible. She wanted to stop the emptiness, but she couldn't.
It was like she was devoid of life. Like the shadowed terror took her will to live a happy life. The creature stood up, towering over her like a mountain, breathing in slightly like it would say something. But it was cut off by an echoing howl in the distance. She turned away from the shadowed terror, staring into the dark gray-blue sky and squinted into the blue-hazed distance as another ear-splitting howl echoed in the chasm. A small dot of a warm white light could be seen, growing closer with every tiny thud before eventually engulfing the creature.
The creature in question screeched out in pain, its pitch matching that of a whistling kettle as it turned into a big puff of smoke, quickly fleeing from the warm light. With a final howl, Ariel felt the ice-cold numbness be replaced with silky, warm sheets.
********************
Ariel woke up, gulping big, shuddery breaths of air to stop herself from crying, but the effort was futile. She felt warm tears flow down her already damp cheeks, the memories of her nightmare flashing in her mind. Ariel brought her knees to her chest and sobbed into them, pouring out all the fear and terror she hid last night into her tears.
No one heard. No one came up to her and offered words of comfort. Ariel did put a spell up, but a tiny part of her hoped that the magic would be weak enough to break.
She cried until she was out of tears, and when she finally stopped, Ariel got up on shaky legs and walked herself to the bathroom.
She went into the shower, and scrubbed her skin raw, trying to wash away the memories of the monster groping her. Ariel turned off the water and got into her scarlet and gold clad robes, even though it was only half past six.
She made her way back to the dormitories, her roommates fast asleep, and Ginny snoring louder than a lion’s roar.
Ariel picked up her bag from her trunk, and a muggle book to read in the common room. She trudged down the stairs and flopped onto the seat by the fireplace, opened her book and began reading it.
After rereading the same sentence for the fifth time, Ariel threw her book across the common room, hitting something with a light “Thud!” near the dormitory staircases.
“OUCH! What d’you think you’re doing, you slimy toe-rag?” The voice came first, and then the jet black hair and emerald green eyes with a slight annoyance hinted with sleepiness.
Ariel Anderson had hit Harry Potter with a book. She had never felt prouder.
Potter shuffled closer, and Ariel could notice that he was donned in his robes, however messy they were. His tie was askew, and his newly-cracked glasses were in his hand, a glare on his normally grinning face. It was a sight that made the angry girl burst into a fit of giggles, a half-hearted apology coming in between the childish-like laugh.
“Sorry?” asked the incensed boy indignantly, “What am I supposed to do with that? You broke my bloody glasses!” His anger only accentuating her laughter. Once the laughter subsided, Ariel got her alder wood wand and muttered the words “Oculus Reparo!”. The cracks on the glasses slowly disappeared, like a snake retreating from a predator.
Harry looked taken aback; he didn’t expect the girl that hated him to use her magic for him. Something flashed across her sun-kissed face, but it was too quick for Harry to make out. “I..uh…thanks.”
“No problem. Had to practice the spell anyway; got charms first period.” added Ariel, as if that explained everything.
She moved to retrieve her book and sit back down on the sofa, and Harry sat down with her, drumming his fingers lightly on his knees to distract himself from saying something stupid. “Soo..what’chu reading?” asked Harry, trying to diffuse the awkwardness between the two.
“Some muggle book. Though the plot became very boring so I gave up reading it.” answered Ariel, a grin taking over her angry features.
“Sounds like fun. I would ask to read it, but I’m Harry James Potter, not Hermione Granger in disguise.” drawled the boy, a mischievous twinkle filling his emerald eyes. Ariel laughed, the remaining of her sadness simmering away, being replaced with a happiness that she hadn’t felt since the summer hols.
All the doubts of this year being dreadful washed away. It was as if a switch in her mind had just flipped. She would try not to dwell on the past, but instead move forward; carving new memories each day.
Because, if she could finally be friendly with Potter, then the year might not be all bad.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Summary:
Stuff.
Thought I'd give it away that easily??
<3
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first month of school passed like a breeze, with very few notable things happening. Quidditch trials were coming up, and Ariel practised her Chaser skills with every spare minute she got.
She and Ginny clambered down the moving stairs and entered the Great Hall, opting to sit on the Ravenclaw table with Luna. “Oh, hello.” she dreamily greeted. “Have you come to eat with me?” asked Luna, lightly patting the spare seats beside her.
“Yes Luna,” chuckled Ginny, “What do we have first?” she asked, a biscuit in her mouth as she snatched Ariel’s timetable and scanned it.
“I believe we have Defence Against the Dark Arts. I hear it’s our first practical lesson.” answered Luna, her usually calm and serene face breaking into a slight smile when Ginny squealed in delight.
“Ginny, your aura is pulsing yellow. You might want to tone it down a bit, otherwise wrackspurts might infest your brain.” informed Luna, standing up while packing some fruits in her bag.
“C’mon.” insisted Ariel, the trio walking hand-in-hand to the DADA classroom.
The classroom was abuzz with nervous excitement as students filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Professor Lupin stood at the front, his kind eyes twinkling as he greeted them. Ariel, her mind swirling with a mix of anticipation and dread, took a seat next to Ginny and Luna, the latter squeezing her hand in reassurance.
“I heard we’re going to face a boggart today,” Ginny whispered, her eyes wide.
Luna nodded dreamily. “I wonder if it’ll turn into a Blibbering Humdinger,” she mused.
“I hope not,” Ariel replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have no idea what mine would become.”
Professor Lupin clapped his hands, drawing their attention. “Alright, class, today we’ll be learning about boggarts. These creatures are shape-shifters, taking the form of whatever you fear most.”
As the lesson progressed, Ariel’s heart pounded. She watched as her classmates bravely approached the old wardrobe containing the boggart. Colin’s step-mum, a giant cockroach, and even a dog emerged, each quickly dispelled with laughter and the incantation “Riddikulus!”
Finally, it was Ariel’s turn. She stepped forward, her wand trembling slightly in her hand. The wardrobe door creaked open and out stepped… her mother. Her heart dropped. It wasn’t her mother as she remembered, full of life and laughter, but an empty, lifeless body.
“Riddikulus!” Ariel shouted, her voice breaking. But nothing happened.
“Think of something funny, Ariel,” Lupin encouraged gently. “Something that makes you smile.”
With a deep breath, Ariel pictured her mother dancing awkwardly in the kitchen, trying to make her laugh. “Riddikulus!” she cried again, and this time, the boggart transformed into her mother wearing oversized clown shoes, doing a silly jig.
Laughter erupted in the room, and the boggart retreated back into the wardrobe. Ariel’s knees felt weak as she returned to her seat, Ginny giving her a reassuring pat on the back.
After class, Ariel lingered as the other students filed out.
“Professor Lupin,” she began hesitantly.
“Yes, Ariel?” Lupin replied, turning to her with a soft smile.
“On the train… there was this creature. It made me feel so cold and… empty. What was it?”
Lupin’s expression grew serious. “That was a Dementor. They feed on happiness, leaving you with your worst memories. It’s crucial to learn how to defend against them. If they continue to affect you, come to me.”
Ariel nodded, feeling a weight lift slightly from her shoulders. “Thank you, Professor.”
As she left the classroom, she felt a newfound determination. Facing her fears was just the beginning of her year.
********************
Ariel trotted down the grassy slope towards Hagrid’s hut, her heart lifting at the thought of meeting magical creatures. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow over the grounds. Beside her, Luna hummed a tune, seemingly in her own world, while Ginny chatted excitedly about what they might encounter.
Hagrid stood by the paddock, a broad grin on his face, as the students gathered around. “Alright, everyone! Today’s a special treat,” he announced, his booming voice full of enthusiasm. “We’re gonna meet some Kneazles, Puffskeins, and Nifflers!”
Ariel’s eyes widened with curiosity. She had heard about these creatures but never seen them up close.
Hagrid gently lifted a Kneazle from a pen, its bushy tail twitching. “Kneazles are great at detecting untrustworthy folks,” he explained. “Smart as a whip, too.”
Luna reached out, allowing the Kneazle to sniff her hand. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes wide with wonder.
Hagrid chuckled. “Aye, they are. And over here are the Puffskeins,” he motioned to a cage filled with fluffy, round creatures that seemed to vibrate with excitement.
“They’re so cute!” Ginny exclaimed, reaching in to gently stroke one.
As the lesson continued, Ariel couldn’t help but overhear a group of Slytherins whispering nearby.
“Did you hear about Malfoy?” one of them said, trying to suppress a laugh. “Buckbeak gave him quite a scare.”
Ariel exchanged a glance with Ginny, who rolled her eyes. “Serves him right,” Ginny murmured under her breath.
Finally, Hagrid brought out a Niffler, its long snout already sniffing for treasures. “These little fellas love shiny things,” Hagrid said, holding up a Galleon. The Niffler lunged forward, snatching the coin with surprising speed.
Ariel giggled as the Niffler’s antics drew laughter from the class. She felt a sense of joy and belonging in these moments, surrounded by magic and friends.
After the lesson, on their way back to the castle, Ariel and her friends passed by the hospital wing. Curiosity piqued, Ariel peeked through the slightly ajar door. Inside, Draco Malfoy was lying dramatically on a bed, his arm wrapped in a bandage.
“Oh, it’s just terrible,” Draco wailed, casting a pitiful look at anyone who would pay attention. “That beast nearly took my arm off!”
Madam Pomfrey bustled around him, her expression one of mild exasperation. “You’ll live, Mr. Malfoy,” she said briskly.
Ariel stifled a laugh as she whispered to Ginny, “Guess we know who the overgrown chicken was.”
With amused smiles, they continued down the corridor, leaving Draco to his theatrics. Despite the challenges, Hogwarts truly felt like home to Ariel, filled with magic, laughter, and unforgettable moments.
Notes:
hope you enjoyed!!
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Notes:
heheheh another chapter???
Chapter Text
The brisk morning air was filled with anticipation as Ariel made her way down to the Quidditch pitch. The stands were beginning to fill with eager onlookers—students from every house, keen to see who would join the Gryffindor team this year.
Ariel felt a mixture of excitement and nerves fluttering in her stomach. She was determined to prove herself worthy of the coveted Chaser position left open by Alicia Spinnet, who had decided to focus on her studies.
As she approached the pitch, she caught sight of her fellow Gryffindors gathered together, their red and gold scarves standing out against the green of the field.
“Ariel!” called Fred Weasley, waving her over. “Ready to show us what you’ve got?”
“Absolutely,” Ariel replied with a confident grin, though her heart was pounding.
Oliver Wood, the team captain, stepped forward, clipboard in hand. “Alright, everyone, listen up!” he shouted, his Scottish brogue echoing across the pitch. “We’ve got one Chaser spot open, and we need the best of the best to fill it.”
Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, the remaining Chasers, stood nearby, offering encouraging smiles.
“Don’t worry, Ariel,” Katie whispered. “You’ll do great.”
On the other side of the pitch, Potter and Ron were chatting with Hermione, the trio only coming due to Harry’s constant nagging to see if the team would win the House Cup this year.
“You’ll be brilliant, Ariel,” Ginny called out, standing next to Luna and Colin. “Just remember, it’s all about focus and strategy!”
The Slytherins were lurking at the edge of the field, snickering and making snide remarks. Draco Malfoy, with his usual smug expression, was leading the group.
“Looks like Gryffindor’s getting desperate,” he drawled. “Replacing Spinnet with a second-year?”
Fred and George exchanged a glance, rolling their eyes. “Ignore him, Ariel,” George said. “He’s just jealous he’s not on a team that actually wins.”
As the trials began, Oliver blew his whistle, and the players took to the air. Ariel felt the broom respond to her movements as she soared above the pitch, her eyes scanning for the Quaffle.
Angelina, acting as a temporary opponent, tossed the Quaffle in Ariel’s direction. Ariel leaned forward, her muscles tensing as she accelerated. She caught the Quaffle with precision, dodging an imaginary Bludger hit by Fred.
“Nice move, Ariel!” Fred shouted, his voice carrying over the wind.
The trial continued, with Ariel demonstrating her agility and quick reflexes. She executed a perfect feint, sending George spinning in the wrong direction, and scored a clean goal past Oliver.
As the session ended, Oliver gathered the hopefuls together. “Well done, everyone,” he announced. “Ariel, you’ve earned your spot as our new Chaser!”
Ariel beamed with pride as her friends rushed to congratulate her. She had done it - she was officially a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
********************
After the exhilarating Quidditch trials, Ariel and her friends made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, their footsteps echoing through the stone corridors of Hogwarts. The Fat Lady’s portrait swung open with the muttered password of “ Ursa Major ”, revealing the warmth and welcome of the Gryffindor common room.
The room was a cozy haven, filled with plush, mismatched armchairs and sofas clustered around a grand fireplace. The golden glow of the fire flickered off the scarlet and gold tapestries that adorned the walls, depicting heroic deeds of past Gryffindors. The scent of burning wood mingled with the faint aroma of old parchment and ink, creating a comforting atmosphere.
Ariel and her friends collapsed into a cluster of armchairs near the hearth, their cheeks flushed from the chill outside and the thrill of the trials.
“You were amazing out there, Ariel!” Ginny exclaimed, her eyes bright with admiration. “I knew you’d make the team.”
“Thanks, Ginny,” Ariel replied, grinning from ear to ear. “I couldn’t have done it without all of your support.”
Fred and George Weasley flopped down onto a nearby sofa, their expressions a mix of pride and mischief.
“Celebrate well, Ariel,” Fred said, raising an imaginary goblet. “To Gryffindor’s newest Quidditch star!”
As laughter and chatter filled the room, Harry Potter wandered over, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
“Nice flying out there, Ariel,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Maybe next time you can try not to run into people off the field too.”
Ariel felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck, remembering the earlier incident where she had accidentally bumped into Harry in the hallway.
“It was an accident, Harry,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “But thanks for the compliment, I think.”
Ron, ever the peacemaker, interjected with a chuckle. “Come on, Harry, cut her some slack. You know how crowded those corridors can get.”
Hermione glanced up from her spot by the fire, a book open in her lap. “Honestly, Harry, you should be congratulating her properly,” she chided gently. “Ariel’s going to be a fantastic Chaser.”
Harry shrugged, a reluctant grin breaking through his facade. “Alright, alright. Welcome to the team, Ariel. Just watch out for Fred and George—they’ve been known to play a prank or two.”
The tension dissolved as Ariel and Harry exchanged amused glances, and the common room returned to its usual lively buzz.
Ariel leaned back into her armchair, feeling a sense of belonging and excitement for the year ahead. She was part of something special, something that even Potter’s jabs couldn’t ruin.
********************
Days, weeks and even months flew by before it was time for the Easter holidays. Ariel stayed behind, not wanting to stay with the ghost she called “Dad”. With Ginny and Luna gone, Ariel spent most of her days in the Common Room, poring over her Potions essay for Snape.
The Gryffindor common room was a haven of warmth and comfort, with the fire casting flickering shadows that danced on the walls. Ariel sat at a corner table, her focus intensely fixed on the Potions essay before her. Each word was carefully chosen, each line meticulously crafted, knowing Professor Snape would expect no errors.
Harry burst through the portrait hole, his excitement palpable after a particularly thrilling Quidditch practice. “Dean! You should have seen the dive I made for the Snitch! It was brilliant!” he called out, his voice echoing in the nearly empty room.
Caught up in his enthusiasm, Harry didn’t notice Ariel hunched over her work. As he gestured animatedly, he accidentally knocked into her elbow.
Ariel’s quill skittered across the page, the ink spreading like a dark cloud over her carefully written words. Her heart sank as she watched her hard work dissolve into chaos.
“Harry!” Ariel’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “Look what you’ve done!”
Harry turned, realization dawning as he saw the ink-stained parchment. “Oh, Ariel, I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to-“
Ariel’s frustration boiled over, her face flushed with anger. “Sorry doesn’t fix this,” she snapped, trying in vain to blot the ink. “This essay was half my grade, and now you ruined it!”
Harry reached out, his expression earnest. “Let me help you fix it,” he pleaded, but Ariel pulled away, her temper flaring.
“Help? Like how you ‘helped ’ Neville in Herbology? No thanks,” she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
The common room had grown quieter, the few students present now openly watching the unfolding drama. Harry felt their eyes on him, a rising heat spreading across his face.
“I really didn’t mean it,” Harry insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. “It’s just… there’s so much on my mind.”
Ariel crossed her arms, her gaze unyielding. “Right, because only Harry Potter has problems,” she shot back, her voice icy.
Harry’s frustration spilled over, his voice rising defensively. “You think I like being the center of attention? Everything I do, it’s like I’m under a magnifying glass.”
Ariel’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Maybe if you didn’t act like you loved it, people wouldn’t always be watching!”
Around them, whispers began to ripple through the room, curious murmurs that only added to Harry’s growing embarrassment. He felt cornered, his emotions twisting inside him.
In a moment of anger, he said the words he would immediately regret. “At least I have something worth watching. My parents may be dead, but at least they cared for me!”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Ariel’s face blanched, her eyes filling with tears she couldn’t control.
“You don’t know anything about me, Harry,” Ariel’s voice cracked with a mixture of hurt and anger.
Turning on her heel, she fled the room, leaving a stunned silence in her wake. The whispers grew louder, speculation buzzing like bees around Harry, who stood rooted to the spot, regret crashing over him.
In her dormitory, Ariel collapsed onto her bed, her cat Blanco curling up beside her, offering silent comfort. Tears flowed freely as she buried her face in his fur, her mind replaying the harsh exchange.
Back in the common room, Harry sank into a chair by the hearth, his heart heavy with remorse. He wished he could take back his words, but the damage was done, leaving him to ponder how he might ever make amends.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Summary:
stuff, stuff, stuff...
Notes:
heheheheehheehehehhehh got a lot more energy now its the holidaysssss
Chapter Text
Ariel heard the twelve chimes of the Common clock. It was midnight, but Ariel was not tired at all. She sat on the edge of her bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, the emptiness being a painful balm, staring out at the rain-streaked window. Harry’s words echoed painfully in her mind: “My parents may be dead but at least they cared for me!”, each syllable cutting deeper than the last.
The Easter holidays had left the common room eerily quiet, devoid of the usual chatter and laughter. With the lack of laughter, Ariel was left alone to stew in her thoughts. She felt a pang of jealousy at her friends’ absence - an absence that made her confrontation with Harry feel even more isolating. Ariel hugged her knees to her chest, wishing she could share her burdens with someone, but the fear of being a burden herself kept her silent.
Despite never being friends, Ariel and Harry had known each other through Ron and Ginny. They moved in similar circles, sharing common friends and memories in the summer. However, an unspoken tension always lingered between them, rooted in misunderstandings and unvoiced assumptions.
That day, the argument had erupted unexpectedly. Ariel had made a passing comment about always loving the attention, not realizing how deeply it would cut Harry. His retort, sharp and unyielding, left Ariel reeling. She hadn’t meant to start an argument, but the damage was done.
When her friends returned, she plastered on a smile she’d been practicing in the mirror for days, hiding the turmoil inside. Ginny seemed to notice something amiss but said nothing, wanting to find out more before coming to a conclusion. Ariel was grateful, not wanting to be a burden, but a small part of her just wanted someone, anyone , to hug her and ask what was wrong.
Determined to keep her problems to herself, Ariel avoided discussing the argument. Whenever she saw Harry, she couldn’t help but give him a hard shove in the corridors, a physical manifestation of the anger simmering beneath her surface. Their eyes would lock briefly, a silent challenge hanging between them, but neither would speak.
One day, while wandering the quiet corridors, Ariel stumbled upon Luna sitting on the cold stone floor, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
“Luna,” Ariel whispered, crouching down beside her. “What’s wrong?”
Luna looked up, her eyes filled with an unusual vulnerability. “It’s the Ravenclaws,” she said quietly. “They’ve been awful. They think I’m strange… call me names.”
Ariel’s heart ached for her friend. “Luna, you’re brilliant just the way you are,” she said fiercely. “Don’t let them get to you.”
Luna managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Ariel.”
The next day, Ariel’s resolve was tested. She encountered a group of Ravenclaws in a deserted corridor, their harsh laughter bouncing off the walls like a cruel chorus. Luna stood against the wall, her shoulders hunched as insults cut through the air.
“Loony Lovegood, lost her mind again!” one jeered, their voices dripping with malice.
Ariel’s anger flared like wildfire, her hand clenching her wand tightly. “Leave her alone!” she shouted, stepping forward, her eyes blazing with defiance.
The Ravenclaws sneered, stepping forward with wands drawn. “What are you going to do about it, Gryffindor?”
Without hesitation, Ariel raised her wand. “ Flipendo !” she cried, her voice fueled by a mixture of fury and resolve.
The corridor erupted into chaos. Spells shot through the air, ricocheting off the stone walls. Ariel dodged a Bat-bogey hex, her reflexes sharp from Quidditch training, and retaliated with a “ Petrificus Totalus !”, each movement driven by protective instinct.
Ariel’s heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The duel was fierce, spells flying like fireworks, each strike filled with determination to protect Luna.
In the end, the Ravenclaws retreated, leaving Ariel and Luna victorious but breathless, the tension of the moment still crackling in the air.
********************
Later, in Professor McGonagall’s office, Ariel accepted her detention without complaint. Her only regret was not being able to shield Luna from harm sooner.
As Ariel returned to the common room, the unspoken tension between her and Harry simmered. She caught his gaze, filled with an unyielding challenge, and couldn’t resist giving him a slight shove as she passed by. Their friends were growing concerned, the divide between them becoming more apparent with each encounter.
For Ariel, the path forward was clear: protect those who matter, even if it meant facing the consequences (and Harry) head-on.
********************
The return of students’ energy brought a renewed liveliness to Hogwarts, the castle buzzing with laughter and chatter. Yet, amidst the vibrant atmosphere, Ariel felt like an outsider, her mind a storm of unresolved emotions.
Ginny, ever observant and intuitive, noticed the shift in Ariel’s demeanor immediately. Normally lively and quick to smile, Ariel now moved through the halls with a subdued air, her thoughts seemingly far away.
Ginny’s concern deepened one afternoon when she overheard a conversation between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She had paused outside the common room door, drawn by the familiar voices.
“I shouldn’t have said it,” Harry admitted, regret evident in his tone. “But Ariel knows how to push every button. She’s just so… stubborn.”
Ron groaned in response. “Mate, you did kind of hit below the belt.”
Hermione’s voice was calm and rational. “You both need to talk it out. This tension isn’t helping anyone.”
Ginny decided then and there to speak with Ariel. She found her friend later that evening, nestled in a corner of the common room, an untouched Transfigurations book open in her lap. Ariel stared into the fireplace, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
“Hey,” Ginny said softly, pulling up a chair beside her. “Mind if we talk?”
Ariel looked up, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. “Of course, Ginny. What’s up?”
“Actually, it’s about you,” Ginny replied, her voice gentle but insistent. “I overheard Harry talking to Ron and Hermione. He mentioned your argument.”
Ariel’s expression tightened, and she glanced away, her fingers tracing the edges of the book’s pages. “It’s nothing, really. Just a stupid argument.”
Ginny leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “Ariel, I know you. It’s not nothing. I want to help, but I can’t unless you let me in.”
Ariel sighed, a heavy breath that seemed to carry the weight of her turmoil. “It’s just… Harry said something really hurtful,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I know I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but it cut deep.”
Ginny nodded, giving her the space to continue. “What did he say?”
“He said… he said at least his parents cared for him,” Ariel confessed, her voice cracking as she relived the sting of the words. “I know he didn’t mean it, but it hurt.”
Ginny’s eyes softened with empathy. “Ariel, I’m so sorry. That must have been really painful to hear.”
Ariel nodded, her gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the fireplace. “I just can’t face him right now, Ginny. I don’t even want to look at him.”
Ginny reached out, clasping Ariel’s hand in hers, offering silent support. “You’re not a burden, Ariel. You’re our friend, and we care about you. It’s okay to take your time. You don’t have to talk to him until you’re ready.”
Ariel felt a small wave of relief wash over her, grateful for Ginny’s understanding. “Thanks, Ginny. I just need some space to sort things out.”
Ginny smiled warmly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And when you’re ready, I’ll be right there with you, ready to punch the toe-rag. We all will.”
The two sat in companionable silence, the warmth of the fire casting a comforting glow around them. Ariel felt the tension in her chest begin to ease, if only slightly, as she realized she wasn’t alone in this.
With friends like Ginny, Ariel knew she could navigate her tangled web of emotions and mess, even if it meant taking each day as it came, one step at a time.
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Summary:
HAHAHAH finally at the end of this year!!!
enjoy, this is my LONGEST chapter, with a whopping 5168 words!!!
<3
Chapter Text
The Gryffindor common room bustled with the ambient chatter of students winding down from the day, but for Ariel, it was as if the world had narrowed to a single point of focus: the silent, lingering tension between her and Harry Potter.
Ariel sat at a corner table, her books spread out before her, but her eyes were lost in the flickering dance of the fire. She tried to concentrate on her Transfiguration notes, but her mind kept drifting back to the sharp exchange with Harry. His words had cut deeper than she’d let on, and the sting of them lingered like a bruise.
Across the room, Harry was huddled with Ron and Hermione, his head bent as they whispered over a scroll of parchment. The sight of him sent a ripple of discomfort through Ariel, but she forced herself to look away, focusing instead on the task at hand.
The decision to ignore each other had been mutual, an unspoken agreement to pretend as if nothing had happened. Yet, the silence between them was anything but peaceful. It was a silent storm, each drop of rain a reminder of what had been said.
Ginny sat down beside Ariel, casting a sidelong glance in Harry’s direction. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
Ariel nodded, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine,” she replied, turning a page in her textbook as if to prove her point.
Ginny didn’t press further, understanding the delicate dance of pride and hurt that Ariel was navigating. “You know, sometimes it’s easier to just talk it out,” she suggested gently.
Ariel sighed, her gaze flickering back to Harry. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not that simple.”
Silence settled between them once more, comfortable in its familiarity. Ariel appreciated Ginny’s presence, a steady anchor in the turbulent sea of her thoughts.
As the evening wore on, Ariel found herself stealing glances at Harry, each time finding him immersed in conversation with Ron and Hermione. It was frustrating, this invisible wall they had erected, each too proud to be the first to break it down.
Yet, beneath the surface, there was a quiet understanding. They both carried burdens, different yet equally heavy, and perhaps in time, they would find a way to shoulder them together. But for now, the silence would have to suffice.
The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the common room, and as the night deepened, Ariel leaned back in her chair, her thoughts drifting into the realm of dreams, where words were not needed, and forgiveness came as naturally as breathing.
********************
Ariel found herself standing in the bustling halls of Hogwarts, yet an unsettling silence enveloped the scene. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall seemed to close in on her, dark clouds swirling menacingly overhead. Every face she passed was blurred, their whispers growing louder, a cacophony of judgments echoing through her mind.
Desperate to escape, Ariel hurried towards the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady’s portrait glared down at her, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. “Password?” she demanded, but the words caught in Ariel’s throat, slipping away each time she tried to speak. The portrait slammed shut with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.
Panic surged through Ariel, her chest tightening as she spun around, her surroundings shifting with a dizzying speed. She was in the library again, but the shelves loomed tall and foreboding, filled with ink-stained parchment and broken quills, mocking her ruined essay. The room seemed to close in, the walls whispering her failures until she could bear it no longer.
Ariel turned to flee, her heart pounding in her chest. The corridors twisted into a maze, and she found herself in a shadowy room where Ginny and Luna stood eerily still. “We can’t help you,” Luna’s voice echoed, each word a nail driving into Ariel’s mounting fear.
Before she could respond, the scene shifted violently. She was outside on the Quidditch pitch, the sky a swirling tempest of dark clouds. Lightning flashed, illuminating Harry as he stood alone in the storm’s eye, his face a mask of regret and apology.
Ariel opened her mouth to cry out, to reach across the chasm between them, but the words were snatched away by the howling wind. Harry’s hand reached for hers, but a violent gust tore them apart, his figure dissolving into the storm. The pitch began to crumble beneath her feet, and Ariel felt herself falling, tumbling through the void.
The dreamscape morphed once more, thrusting Ariel back into the Gryffindor common room. The fire’s warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, oppressive darkness. She was alone, the silence pressing down on her, suffocating.
********************
With a gasp, Ariel jolted awake, her heart pounding wildly. She choked out a sob while tears streamed down her face, the remnants of panic clinging to her consciousness. The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of the fire, a stark contrast to the chaos of her nightmare.
Ginny stirred beside her, concern etched on her face. “Ariel, are you okay?” she whispered, gently placing a comforting hand on Ariel’s shoulder.
Ariel nodded, wiping away her tears, but the weight of the dream lingered. It was time to confront her fears, to mend the rift with Harry, and to find peace within herself.
********************
The Hogwarts library was a cathedral of knowledge, its towering shelves stretching towards a vaulted ceiling that seemed to echo with the whispers of countless students who had walked its aisles over the centuries. Soft, golden light filtered through high, arched windows, casting warm pools of illumination across the polished wooden tables.
Ariel entered the library, the familiar scent of parchment and ink wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She found solace in this quiet sanctuary, where the only sounds were the soft rustling of pages and the distant murmur of Madam Pince’s footsteps.
As she wandered through the labyrinth of shelves, her attention was caught by a soft, muffled sobbing. Curious and concerned, Ariel followed the sound, weaving through rows of ancient tomes and past the towering section on magical creatures.
In a secluded corner, tucked away behind a fortress of books, she found Hermione Granger. Hermione sat hunched over a table, her bushy hair forming a curtain around her face as she struggled to stifle her tears. Several open books lay scattered around her, their pages covered in dense, handwritten notes.
Ariel paused, unsure whether to intrude on what was clearly a private moment. But the sight of Hermione’s distress tugged at something deep inside her, and she stepped forward, her voice gentle and tentative.
“Hermione? Are you okay?”
Hermione looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. She hastily wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to regain composure. “Oh, Ariel… I didn’t see you there,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
Ariel offered a sympathetic smile, pulling out a chair to sit across from her. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, genuinely concerned.
Hermione hesitated, glancing down at the open book before her. “It’s Buckbeak,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “They’ve decided… they’re going to execute him.”
The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, and Ariel felt a pang of empathy. “That’s awful,” she said, her heart going out to both Hermione and the majestic creature she had come to admire during Hagrid’s lessons.
Hermione nodded, her expression a mixture of frustration and despair. “I just… I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, her voice breaking slightly. “It feels so… unjust.”
Ariel reached across the table, placing a comforting hand over Hermione’s. “Maybe we can figure something out together,” she suggested, her voice filled with determination.
Hermione looked at her, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. “You’d help me?” she asked, as if the idea of not facing this alone was a lifeline she hadn’t expected.
“Of course,” Ariel replied, her resolve firm. “Buckbeak deserves a chance, and so do you. Let’s see what we can do.”
In that moment, amidst the silent sentinels of books and the hushed ambience of the library, a friendship began to form. It was a bond forged in shared purpose and mutual respect, and as they leaned towards one another, whispering plans and possibilities, the library felt warmer, more alive, echoing their shared hope.
********************
The Quidditch pitch was a tempest of activity, the sky above roiling with storm clouds that cast a dark shadow over the field. Sheets of rain lashed against the stands, and the rumble of thunder provided a dramatic backdrop to the already tense atmosphere. Despite the weather, the stands were packed, students huddled under umbrellas and charmed raincoats, their cheers swallowed by the howling wind.
Ariel braced herself against the elements, her scarlet Gryffindor robes clinging to her as she hovered on her broomstick. Beside her, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson shared a determined nod, their faces set with resolve. As Chasers, they were ready to face the challenge head-on.
Madam Hooch’s whistle barely cut through the storm, but it was enough to signal the start of the match. Ariel surged forward, her grip firm on the Quaffle as she navigated the blustering winds. The rain stung her face, each droplet a reminder of the storm’s ferocity.
The game was a chaotic dance, the players struggling to maintain control amid the driving rain. Ariel squinted through the downpour, passing the Quaffle to Angelina, who ducked a Bludger sent her way by a Hufflepuff Beater.
High above, Harry was a determined silhouette against the turbulent sky, his search for the Golden Snitch relentless despite the challenging conditions. His presence was a beacon of hope for the Gryffindor team.
The match was a test of endurance, each team fighting not only each other but the elements as well. Ariel’s muscles ached from the cold, but she pushed forward, her focus unyielding.
Suddenly, a bone-chilling cold swept across the pitch, more piercing than the rain. Ariel’s heart skipped as she caught sight of a Dementor descending into the stadium, its dark form menacing against the stormy backdrop.
Panic rippled through the crowd, and Ariel’s gaze snapped to Harry, his broom shuddering in the air. The Dementor’s presence was overwhelming, its icy aura spreading fear and confusion.
Before Ariel could react, Harry began to fall, his broom spinning wildly out of control. Her instincts took over, and she dove towards him, her broom slicing through the rain-soaked air.
“Harry!” she shouted, her voice barely audible over the storm. As she reached him, she grasped his arm, her grip unyielding despite the adrenaline and rain.
With all her strength, Ariel guided his unconscious form towards the ground, landing with a jarring thud that sent shockwaves through her body. The realization of his condition hit her as she half-carried, half-dragged him off the pitch, her mind focused on getting him to safety.
The hospital wing was a welcome refuge from the storm. Madam Pomfrey rushed to Harry’s side, her expression a mixture of concern and urgency. Ariel stepped back, her heart pounding as the rest of the Gryffindor team gathered around.
Professor McGonagall arrived, her eyes reflecting both worry and admiration for Ariel’s quick thinking. She gave Ariel a nod, her gratitude unspoken but deeply felt.
Meanwhile, word spread that Hufflepuff had won the match. Their Seeker, Cedric Diggory, had caught the Snitch, unaware of Harry’s fall. The victory was bittersweet, overshadowed by the events on the pitch.
It wasn’t until later, with Ron and Hermione at his side, that Harry regained consciousness. He awoke to their relieved faces, their voices filled with concern as they recounted the match’s dramatic conclusion. Harry glanced at Ariel, and mouthed a “ Thank you .” gratitude flowing on his face.
As Harry lay surrounded by friends, Ariel felt a strange sense of happiness. She had saved him from a possible death, but why was she so giddy looking at the bedraggled boy?
********************
A few days later, Ariel heard a commotion at the end of the Gryffindor table at breakfast. She turned around and saw Potter holding a Firebolt , utter joy scribbled on his face. But when Ariel saw Hermione’s face, she knew that the Firebolt wouldn’t see daylight for a long time .
********************
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the grounds of Hogwarts, but the warmth did little to lift the heavy hearts of the students. Ariel sat on the edge of the Gryffindor common room, her fingers nervously twisting a loose strand of hair. She glanced at Hermione, who was reading a letter with a furrowed brow, her usually bright eyes clouded with concern.
“What does it say?” Ariel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hermione looked up, her expression grim. “It’s from Hagrid. He lost the case for Buckbeak.” Her voice trembled slightly, and Ariel felt a pang of sorrow for the half-giant who had fought so hard for the creature’s freedom.
“No… not Buckbeak,” Ariel murmured, her heart sinking. “He didn’t deserve this.”
Ron, who had been lounging nearby, suddenly perked up. “We should go see Hagrid. He’ll need us now more than ever.” His voice was resolute, but Ariel could see the worry etched on his face.
“Right,” Hermione agreed, folding the letter with a determined snap. “Let’s go.”
As they made their way to Hagrid’s hut, the air grew thick with tension. Harry walked slightly ahead, his brow furrowed in thought. Ariel stole a glance at him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before he looked away, the unspoken words hanging heavily between them.
When they neared the big slope towards Hagrid’s humble abode, the four came face-to-face with Malfoy, who was using omnioculars to watch the execution.
Ariel turned towards Hermione, to see her walking towards Malfoy, her hair getting bigger with anger and magic.
“You…YOU FOUL, LOATHSOME EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH!” she shouted, slapping Malfoy across the face hard .
Malfoy and his little cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, ran away, and Ariel laughed as if she had never laughed before.
Their good mood vanished when they reached Hagrid’s hut, revealing the giant himself, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “Oh, you lot,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Of course we would,” Ron said, stepping forward. “We’re here for you, Hagrid.”
Ariel nodded, her heart aching for him. “We’re so sorry about Buckbeak. You did everything you could.”
Hagrid wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I just wanted to protect him. He’s innocent, you know?”
Just then, Ron’s eyes widened as he spotted Scabbers, his pet rat, scurrying across the floor. “Oi! Scabbers!” he exclaimed, reaching down to grab him. “Where have you been?”
“Ron, be careful!” Hermione warned, but it was too late. Scabbers bit Ron’s finger, and he yelped, quickly stuffing the rat into his pocket.
“Blasted rat!” Ron grumbled, shaking his hand. “He’s always biting me!”
“Let’s focus, Ron,” Ariel said, trying to keep the mood light. “We need to get Hagrid out of this funk.”
But before they could say more, a loud knock echoed from the door. Hagrid’s face paled. “It’s the Minister! You lot need to hide!”
Panic surged through them as they scrambled to find a place to conceal themselves. They ducked behind Hagrid’s enormous table, hearts racing as the door swung open to reveal a stern-looking man in a bowler hat.
“Rubeus Hagrid!” the Minister boomed. “You are to cease all activities regarding Buckbeak immediately!”
As the Minister’s voice faded into the background, Ariel felt a surge of adrenaline. “We need to get out of here,” she whispered urgently.
The four of them bolted from the hut, racing back toward the castle. But as they ran, Ron suddenly yelped again. “Scabbers! Get off!” He pulled the rat from his pocket, but it had already sunk its teeth into his hand.
“Ugh, Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “Just let him go!”
“No way! He’s mine!” Ron insisted, cradling the rat protectively.
Their bickering continued, until a loud swoosh, thud and a howl echoed across the field. Ariel turned around slowly, and saw Buckbeak’s head laying on the floor, blood spewing everywhere…
She and Ron promptly became sick on the floor.
“ Bye bye lunch .” thought Ariel weakly.
The four ran back to the castle, not wanting to see anything else. As they reached the Whomping Willow, a dark shape darted from the shadows, a massive black dog, its eyes glinting with malice. “Look out!” Ariel shouted, but it was too late. The creature lunged at Ron, sinking its teeth into his leg and dragging him down into the roots of the tree.
“Ron!” Harry yelled, but the tree’s branches whipped at them, leaving bruises and scratches as they fought their way through.
“Keep going!” Ariel urged, her heart pounding as they stumbled after Ron. “We can’t leave him!”
They finally reached the Shrieking Shack, bursting through the door to find a dimly lit room. There, in the flickering shadows, stood Sirius Black, his expression a mix of relief and concern.
“Get away from him!” Harry shouted, stepping protectively in front of a pale and tired Ron, blood trickling from his newly bandaged leg.
“Wait! I’m not here to hurt you,” Sirius said, raising his hands. “I’m here to help.”
Before they could process his words, Remus Lupin entered, his face pale. “We need to talk about Scabbers,” he said, his voice steady but urgent.
“Scabbers?” Ariel echoed, confusion etched on her face.
“Scabbers is not what he seems,” Lupin explained. “He’s Peter Pettigrew, a traitor.”
“Get back!” Harry shouted as Severus Snape appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowed.
In a moment of panic, Ariel raised her wand and shouted, “Stupefy!” The spell shot from her wand, hitting Snape squarely in the chest. Hermione and Harry quickly followed suit with an “Expelliarmus!”
“Well done you three. I would have done it myself, but you lot are considerably faster.” snorted Sirius, mirth lighting up his crazed eyes in a heartbeat.
“Don't. You. Dare tell me “well done”. YOU MURDERED MY PARENTS!” roared Harry, tears pricking in his eyes.
Sirius flinched, the mirth vanishing as quick as it came. “Harry… Please understand I had no choice. It would have been too easy to find Lily and James.”
Harry looked as if he was about to shout something else to contradict his godfather, but then Lupin opened his mouth and said, “Harry. If you’re not going to listen to Sirius, then listen to me. Sirius did not murder your parents. It was Peter . Yes, Sirius was the Secret Keeper at first, but he persuaded James to change it to Peter because everyone knew that Sirius was James’ first option, and Peter being the last. So Peter Pettigrew murdered you parents, not Sirius.”
“But how are we supposed to believe him, Harry? He’s a werewolf !” exclaimed Hermione, pointing at the grimacing Remus Lupin.
Ron was wide awake when he heard this. “A werewolf?” he squeaked, fear evident as he shuffled away painfully.
“Yes Hermione, I am. But you have to believe me. Sirius is not a murderer. I swear on my magic .” replied Lupin, his vow thick in the air.
Ariel finally found her voice, though it was a few octaves higher than usual. “If Scabbers really is Peter Pettigrew, can you show us some proof?”
“Excellent question, Ariel. Sirius, wanna lend a hand?” asked Lupin, his face looking considerably younger than usual.
“Wait,” said Harry, a question dying to get out. “If your animagus was a Grim, and Pettigrew’s is a rat, what was my father’s?”
Sirius smiled sadly, as if he saw best-friend and not his god-son in front of him. “James was a stag. That’s why we called him ‘ Prongs ’.”
He swished his wand in time with Remus’ and Ariel’s heart raced as they cast the spell on Scabbers, who transformed into a trembling man. Ariel screamed, stumbling back in shock and gripping Harry’s hand to stay up. “What?” she spluttered, words lost on her tongue. She looked down, and realised she was holding the emerald-eyed boy’s hand. Ariel quickly let go, and started admiring how ugly Peter Pettigrew looked.
The twitching body of Peter Pettigrew finally stood up, revealing a short, plump man with dirty nails and bald spots in his hair. “Remus, Sirius! My old friends!” He moved towards the two men, but they kicked him down, disgust evident on their faces.
When the rat realised he wasn’t wanted with the friends he betrayed, he shuffled towards the young Gryffindors.
He tried to kiss Harry’s feet, but Harry punched him.
He tried to sweet-talk Ron, but Ron elbowed him.
He tried to hold Hermione’s hand, but she slapped him.
And when he tried to talk to Ariel, she placed a Bat-Bogey hex on him, making the ratty traitor crawl away, faux-panic and slyness sparkling in his eyes.
Pettigrew murmured a “ Finite ” stopping the hex from assaulting him longer. He then waved as if he were famous, and transformed into his animagus form, running away from a probable death.
“Run!” Sirius urged as they dashed out of the shack, wanting to catch the filthy traitor, but the full moon had risen high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. Remus began to transform, his body contorting as he became a werewolf, his screams echoing in the forest.
“Go! Go!” Ariel shouted, sending body-bind hexes at the creature, trying to buy time for her friends. But as she turned to run, her foot caught on a tree root, sending her sprawling to the ground.
The werewolf turned its yellow gaze on her, and Ariel’s heart raced as she scrambled to her feet. In a desperate attempt to save herself, she wrapped her hands around the werewolf’s jaw, trying to keep its teeth at bay. But it was too strong; a sharp pain sliced through her torso as the creature’s claws raked across her skin.
Blood oozed from Ariel’s collarbone to her ribs, red seeping into her clothes. She gasped, feeling the warmth trickle down her back.
“Argh!” Ron shouted, trying to pull her away, wincing with each step. “Ariel!”
In that moment of chaos, Hermione let out a howling noise, a sound that echoed through the night. Suddenly, the air grew cold, and Dementors appeared, their dark cloaks billowing as they advanced toward them, sensing a falsely convicted criminal helping the children.
“No!” Harry yelled, stepping in front of Ariel and the others, trying to save them from the Dementors, but failed. He sank to his knees, eyes flickering and slowly going unconscious with the rest of the group. But before the Dementors could perform the Kiss, a brilliant stag burst forth from the shadows, charging at the Dementors and scattering them.
As the world faded to black, Ariel felt herself being pulled into unconsciousness, pain screaming everywhere in her body.
********************
When Ariel awoke, she found herself in the hospital wing, the familiar scent of potions and antiseptic filling her senses. She blinked against the bright light, her heart racing as she remembered the events of the night before.
“Hermione? Ron? Harry?” she croaked, her voice hoarse yet thick with tears, waiting to explode the poorly built dam inside of Ariel.
“Right here,” Hermione said, her face pale but relieved. “We thought we lost you.”
“What happened?” Ariel asked, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her chest, wincing at the pain.
“You were amazing,” Ron said, his eyes wide with admiration. “You saved us.”
Ariel managed a weak smile, but her thoughts were racing. “What about Buckbeak and Sirius?”
Hermione’s expression turned serious. “We have to go back. I have a Time-Turner.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.
“We have to try,” Ariel insisted, her determination rising. “We can’t let them suffer.”
With Dumbledore’s permission, Hermione explained about her Time-turner, their hearts pounding with hope and fear. As they went through the plan, Ariel felt a surge of courage. They would save Buckbeak and Sirius, no matter the cost.
“Together,” she whispered, glancing at Harry, who met her gaze with a flicker of understanding. In that moment, the gaze that they shared held unity, apologies and forgiveness.
“Together,” Harry echoed, a small smile and a blush creeping up on him.
********************
“Ariel, are you sure you want to do this? You’ve just been attacked by a werewolf, you should rest.” asked Hermione, concern enveloping her voice.
Ariel nodded, feeling a thrill of determination and stood up, standing next to Harry and Hermione. “I’m ready. But I feel a bit strange… like everything’s more intense under the moonlight.”
“Well, you have been scratched by a werewolf on the full moon; you’re now a semi-werewolf.” replied Harry, something gentle and warm twinkling in his eyes.
The words hit Ariel like a blow, but she schooled her expression and nodded at Hermione, who was looking at her wearily.
“Let’s do this.”
Hermione spinned the time-turner three times anti-clockwise, and the three Gryffndors spun around, landing in a heap in the courtyard, watching Hermione slap an egotistical Draco Malfoy.
Ariel giggled, having to cover her mouth so as to not give them away. Harry smiled at her, something in his eyes that only Hermione saw with her jaw on the floor. Hermione shaked her head, needing to focus on their mission, but she made a mental note to question Harry later.
The trio slowly crept towards Hagrid’s Hut and into his paddock when their past-selves went into his house, playing I-Spy to pass the time. When the Minister came along, they hid behind the pumpkins, Ariel clamping her hand over Harry’s mouth to stop him from giggling at Cornelius Fudge’s magenta bowler hat.
Hermione sighed. If these two did not get together by the end of her fifth year, she was going to snog a Dementor senseless.
She silently went up to Buckbeak and bowed, not wanting to cause another Malfoy-fiasco. When Buckbeak returned the bow, Hermione went up to him and untied the magnificent beast, all while Ariel and Harry were having a whispered argument over who was a better Quidditch player.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “ Give me strength .” prayed Hermione, snickering at the thought of Harry and Ariel exchanging gooey eyes in front of Ron. “Oi, you two! I’ve got Buckbeak. Let’s go.” whispered Hermione, startling the two love-birds.
They all made their way into the forest, and there they waited playing Tag with Buckbeak, who was enjoying freedom. When a shout, a howl, and scream echoed in the forest, Hermione, Harry, Ariel and Buckbeak moved away from the Whomping Willow and towards the Lake, not wanting to get mauled by a werewolf.
On their way towards the lake, a blood-curdling scream ricocheted off the trees. Ariel turned around, and saw her past-self getting attacked by the werewolf. She turned around and saw Harry looking in the same direction, his jaw set and hand clenched so hard Ariel was slightly surprised that they weren’t bleeding. Something fluttered in her stomach, but Ariel dismissed it; knowing Harry, he would be angry if anyone was getting mauled by a werewolf.
It being her right now did not mean anything special.
Right?
“ Shut up Ariel. ” she thought. “ You have a mission. Don’t mess it up. ”
When they reached the Lake, they saw their past-selves already getting tortured by the Dementors.
“Any moment now…Come on, perform the patronus…” muttered Harry, looking for something, or maybe someone ?
When it was clear no one was going to produce the stag patronus, Harry whipped out his holly-wood wand and shouted, “ EXPECTO PATRONUM !” A wispy little shield sprouted from the tip of his wand, and it grew bigger and bigger until it formed the shape of a majestic stag, its antlers as long as Ariel’s arms.
“ Prongs .” whispered Harry, a sense of familial love highlighted all over his face. The stag cantered over to the Dementors and chased them away, leaving the past-versions of Hermione, Harry and Ariel safe as well as Sirius and Ron.
Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore and Minister Fudge came along, as well as Snape, who was sporting a nasty bruise. When Snape saw Sirius, Dumbledore dismissed him, telling him to tell Professor Flitwick to free up the Astronomy Tower for Sirius.
When Snape left, Dumbledore vanished Sirius, and then transfigured pieces of rock into stretchers for the Gryffindors while Fudge was talking quickly “Merlin’s beard, attacking students! Forgive me Albus, I will remove the Dementors as quickly as possible…” before hurrying away, most likely sending an owl to the Ministry of Magic to remove the Dementors from Hogwarts immediately.
Madam Pomphrey left with her four new patients, leaving Dumbledore by himself at the lake.
“Hurry. You only have around 10 more minutes. And excellent patronus Harry. I see Remus taught you well.” said Dumbledore, before walking away, merilly humming to himself.
The trio took his advice and climbed upon Buckbeak, though it was quite squishy. They soared over the forest, the Black Lake and Hogwarts (with Hermione screaming from the height) before arriving at the Astronomy Tower, where Ariel shouted “ Confringo !” to break Sirius out of his inhumanely small cage.
“C’mon.” said Harry, “We don’t have much time. Sirius, we’re going to drop you off in the courtyard, then you have to escape on Buckbeak.”
Sirius was about to offer his gratitude when Buckbeak did a huge dive, making Ariel grab onto Harry’s waist and not letting go. Harry was grateful it was dark; he was blushing redder than Ron’s hair.
Buckbeak landed gracefully in the courtyard, and after hugging Sirius and waving as he flew away on Buckbeak, the trio sprinted to the Hospital Wing, not wanting to think about the consequences if they were late.
They met Dumbledore there, who was chatting with Ron. He looked up and asked, “Did you do it?”
They all chorused something along the lines of “Yes sir.” before they fell into their own beds, exhaustion finally creeping up on them after their adrenaline vanished.
********************
The train ride back home was uneventful, apart from when Ariel recounted her adventure with Hermione, Ron and Harry to Luna and Ginny. Even Luna, calm, serene, quiet Luna shouted “ WHAT?!” when Ariel said she was now part-werewolf.
They arrived at Platform 9 and ¾, and the trio met up with Hermione, Ron and Harry to exchange good-byes.
“Coming to the Quidditch World Cup Ariel?” asked Ron, his leg better now.
“Yeah. See you!” she replied, before turning to face Harry.
“Bye Ariel! Have a nice holida-” began Harry before getting hugged by her.
“Bye.” she whispered, letting go and smiling up at him.
“ Maybe the year wasn’t so bad afterall .” thought Ariel, giraffes galloping in her stomach.
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Summary:
some sad things at the start. its about cancer, and although i havent explictedly said that, if you feel uncomfortable with reading it, start reading from "Ginny Weasley stood at the edge of the bustling campsite..." You aren't missing much, and take care! xx
on a more happier note....
IM BAAAACCCCKKKKK!!!
AND WITH A NEW SCHOOL YEAR AS WELL!!!
wonder how this'll turn out...
eheheheeheh
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Summer was… a handful, to say the least. Ariel’s father had gotten sick, though it was most definitely just hay-fever and not the fact that he was tarring his lungs by smoking. They were in and out of hospitals, and although Ariel didn’t enjoy being in her father’s vicinity as he always pretended that she didn’t exist, she was anxious as to whether he’ll get better or not.
********************
Ariel knew that today was a bad day. She knew this was the day where everything would come crashing down.
She knew this when she came back home after a stroll in the park and was greeted with the sight of her father foaming at the mouth, blood dribbling from his nose while vomiting into the kitchen sink.
She knew this when she ran to her father, trying to help him, and got greeted with the foul stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol.
She knew this when she was whisked away to a Hospital in an ambulance, her arms hugging herself tightly.
********************
Ariel despised being in hospitals. To her, they were sterile, glaringly bright, and overwhelmingly somber. Smiles were a rare sight, even from the receptionists. In her experience, good news was nonexistent. She vowed never to set foot in a place like this again; a promise she hadn’t kept, as she found herself here every single day for the past week. The place was loathsome to her.
The nurses were kind, often inquiring about her interests and school life. Yet, Ariel couldn’t share much with them. Even if she did, she doubted they would believe her. Thus, she chose silence. They assumed she was coming to terms with everything.
And she was.
Since the second week of summer break, when Gran had come to stay, she had been digesting the news.
A nurse walked by, barely noticing her presence. Ariel didn’t mind. She was perfectly content to sit there for hours, undisturbed. It was preferable to being at home, feeling isolated.
The hardest part was the solitude. While Gran was lovely, her presence offered little comfort. She wished to discuss things Ariel didn’t want to. She spent more time either at the hospital or at home, deliberately avoiding her grandmother. Ariel’s friends were another matter. She distanced herself from them too. After the revelation, she sent messages to Ginny, Hermione and Luna, explaining she wouldn’t attend any summer plans and would reconnect when school resumed. They replied, but she struggled to read their messages and never responded.
It wasn’t that she didn’t crave their company; she longed to speak with them more than anything. But words eluded her, and she knew if she started talking, the tears would follow.
********************
Ginny Weasley stood at the edge of the bustling campsite, the air buzzing with infectious excitement. The vibrant colors of jerseys and banners painted the fields, as wizards and witches from all over the world gathered to witness the grandeur of the Quidditch World Cup. Her heart beat in rhythm with the distant cheers, but her thoughts flickered to her absent friend, Ariel.
“Ginny! Over here!” Fred’s voice cut through the cacophony, waving her over with a mischievous grin. Beside him, George was already holding two cups of pumpkin juice, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.
“Coming,” Ginny replied, forcing her thoughts back to the present. She maneuvered through the crowd, her gaze momentarily catching the vibrant Irish colors fluttering in the breeze. It was hard not to be swept up in the spectacle.
As she reached her brothers, Ron was animatedly discussing tactics with Harry, who seemed just as enthralled. Hermione stood nearby, her expression a mix of excitement and mild exasperation at their fervor.
“Can you believe this crowd?” Hermione exclaimed, adjusting her scarf. “It’s as if the entire wizarding world is here.”
“Exactly! That’s what makes it brilliant,” Ron chimed in, his eyes wide with awe. “And wait till you see the match, Hermione. It’s going to be unbelievable!”
Ginny smiled, though her thoughts drifted back to Ariel. She imagined Ariel’s summer, the hospital visits, the worry etched into her friend’s usually bright demeanor. Ginny felt a pang of guilt for being here, amidst all this joy, while Ariel was facing such a difficult time.
“Hey, Ginny,” Harry’s voice brought her back, a gentle concern in his eyes. “You alright? You’ve been a bit quiet.”
Ginny nodded, grateful for his perceptiveness. “Just thinking about Ariel,” she admitted, lowering her voice so the others wouldn’t overhear. “I wish she could be here with us.”
Harry nodded, understanding. “She’ll be alright, you know. She’s strong, like you. Besides, she has all of us when she needs us.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Ginny said, feeling a warmth spread through her at his words. “I just hope she knows that too.”
The conversation shifted back to the match as they made their way to the stadium, the noise growing louder with every step. Ginny let herself be swept up in the excitement, though a part of her heart remained with her friend, hoping that Ariel found some comfort, even in her solitude.
As they settled into their seats, the roar of the crowd was deafening. The anticipation was electric, the air crackling with magic and expectation. Ginny took a deep breath, ready to lose herself in the thrill of the match, even as she kept Ariel close in her thoughts, sending silent wishes her way.
********************
The stadium was alive with anticipation, a sea of vibrant colors and roaring chants echoing across the stands. Harry felt a thrill of excitement as supporters chanted and shouted team and player names, the flags of Ireland and Bulgaria fluttering with pride.
“HELLO EVERYONE!” shouted a voice that echoed across the pitch. Cheers and shouts replied to the greeting, red and green flags waving in every direction. “MY NAME IS LUDO BAGMAN, AND I OFFICIALLY WELCOME YOU TO THE 422nd QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!” People cheered even louder than before, sparks flying from their wands in excitement.
“AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, KINDLY WELCOME – THE BULGARIAN NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM! I GIVE YOU - DIMITROV! IVANOVA! ZOGRAF! LEVSKI! VULCHANOV! VOLKOV! AAAAAAAAAND - KRUM!”
“AND NOW, PLEASE GREET - THE IRISH NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM! PRESENTING - CONNOLLY! RYAN! TROY! MULLET! MORAN! QUIGLEY! AAAAAAAAAND - LYNCH!
“AND HERE, ALL THE WAY FROM EGYPT, OUR REFEREE, ACCLAIMED CHAIRWIZARD OF THE INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF QUIDDITCH, HASSAN MOSTAFA!” A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache bigger than his face strode out onto the field.
Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open – four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast of his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.
“THEEEEEEEY’RE OFF! AND IT’S MULLET! TROY! MORAN! DIMITROV! BACK TO MULLET! TROY! LEVSKI! MORAN!”
“They’re amazing!” Ron shouted, pointing at the sky as the players zoomed onto the field, their brooms slicing through the air like arrows. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, waving flags and chanting in unison.
Harry’s eyes were glued to the game, yet his thoughts frequently drifted to Ariel. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why she often occupied his mind, especially now with the thrill of the match unfolding before him. It was as if her absence left a void, a subtle longing that he didn’t fully understand.
The match commenced with an intensity that left everyone breathless. Ireland’s Seeker, Aidan Lynch, was a blur of speed, while Bulgaria’s Viktor Krum, a master of impossible maneuvers, kept the spectators on the edge of their seats.
“This is insane!” Fred yelled, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.
Beside him, Harry felt a pang, not just from the match but from the realization that Ariel would have loved this. He pictured her excitement, her animated expressions, and felt a strange ache in her absence.
As the match went on, it got dirtier and dirtier. Both team’s Beaters on both were acting without mercy.
The Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet. “LEVSKI – DIMITROV – MORAN –TROY – MULLET – IVANOVA – MORAN AGAIN – MORAN – MORAN SCORES!”
Now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov –
“Look at Lynch!” Harry yelled, gripping Hermione’s arm and almost yanking it out of its socket.
The Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive
“He’s seen the Snitch! He’s seen it! Look at him go!” Screamed Ginny, her voice hoarse from all the shouting.
The crowd seemed to have finally realized what was happening. Krum was on Lynch’s tail. The pair of them hurtled toward the ground again –
“They’re going to crash!” Hermione shrieked.
“They’re not!” Ron roared.
“Lynch is!” Harry yelled.
And he was right - Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force.
“The Snitch, where’s the Snitch?” Fred and George shouted in unison.
“He’s got it – Krum’s got it – it’s all over!” replied Harry, jumping up and down while having a deathly grip on Hermione’s arm.
Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose and other parts of his body, was rising gently into the air, fist held high. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.
“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, taken aback by the sudden end of the match. “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”
********************
Ariel closed the Daily Prophet a little harder than she wanted. She felt a little bad, the moving pictures gave a soft scream as the paper landed on their faces, though the Dark Mark was horrific and grotesque. She had to remind herself that those were just reflections of real people, not the people themselves.
She had arrived at the train station almost an hour earlier than normal.
Part of her wanted to make sure she found a compartment before they filled up, part of her just couldn’t stand to be at home any longer. All of her needed that few extra minutes of solitude before she saw everyone again.
The front page of the Prophet stared at her. It was an edition from a few weeks ago, after the Quidditch World Cup.
She was somewhat glad she hadn’t been there. She didn’t know how she would’ve handled the riot that happened after, and didn’t want to know. But she was worried.
She kept telling herself, she would know if something really bad had happened to them…right?
If something happened to him …?
Ariel removed those thoughts from her mind, as the door of the compartment slid open, and Ariel was only able to spot a flash of ginger and blonde hair before she was attacked by a double hug.
“You’re suffocating me!” she croaked out.
Luna and Ginny pulled away, laughing.
“We’ve missed you!” Luna said. Her hair was almost to her waist now.
“It’s only been two months,” Ariel replied.
Ginny plopped onto the seat across from her. “Felt like forever. Anyways, how are you doing?” she asked, with a sudden serious tone.
“I’m fine.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Honestly! I’m …” she trailed off, really looking at her friends for the first time since last term. They wore the same look; soft, kind eyes and a slight head tilt. It wasn’t quite like pity, but it felt the same. She realized how much she missed seeing them, how much she missed talking to them, and it hit her just how hard this summer had been. She felt her eyes start to water.
“Is your dad going to be okay?” Luna asked. Ariel nodded. “Well, that’s wonderful, isn’t it!”
“If the medicine works,” she said. “There could still be complications…”
“Do they think there will be?”
She shrugged. “If you both don’t mind, this is all I’ve talked about during the holidays. I’d rather not think about it. Sorry.”
Ginny shook her head. “Don’t apologize. We’re here, whatever you need.”
“Thank you. How was the Quidditch World Cup?”
“Oh, yeah, it was brilliant!” Ginny told them all about the match - how Ireland won, but Bulgaria caught the Snitch and how Fred and George had bet their entire life savings and won - with occasional comments from Luna about which of the players got injured the most and other Luna-like things.
She told them about the attack after the match. They knew a fair amount – it was advertised all over the Prophet – but hearing the details… Ariel shuddered. It was incredible that no one had died.
And then there was the Dark Mark… which Luna told them was often used to notify that someone had been killed by Death Eaters (“ Voldemort’s followers,” she explained). It was a big thing during the War, and the recent sighting of one was very much unwelcome and very much unnerving.
“Any other news? Preferably nothing death related or otherwise?”
“Well,” Luna said, glancing at Ginny, “there is one other thing.”
“You should know,” Ginny began, “I think Harry might be into Cho Chang.”
“Who?”
“She’s a Chaser on the Ravenclaw team. Fifth year.”
Ariel stared into their eyes for a good few seconds before saying, “And? What am I supposed to do with that? Draft their wedding vows?”
Ginny shot her an unimpressed look before snootily looking away.
“Oh, Ariel… Ginny and I could sense your fondness for Harry quite clearly, as if it were gently floating in the air, ever since that train ride back from Hogwarts last year-” Luna said but she was quickly cut off by a sudden shushing noise by Ginny.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked in, damp from the slight rain outside. They were in deep discussion.
“Bagman wanted to tell us what’s happening at Hogwarts,” Ron was saying grumpily. “At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won’t say. Wonder what – ”
“Shh!” Hermione whispered suddenly.
They heard a familiar grueling voice drifting in through the open door. “ … Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man’s such a Mudblood-lover – and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do …”
Hermione slid the compartment door shut, blocking out Malfoy’s unbearable voice. “So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he? I wish he had gone, then we wouldn’t have to put up with him.”
“Durmstrang’s another – ?” Harry started, but he stopped upon seeing her. “Ariel!”
She was taken aback by his sudden excitement. “Hi!”
He fell into the seat next to her, his arm brushing against hers ever so lightly as he did. She ignored that weird-but-nice flutter in her stomach. “Are you doing alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, for what felt like the millionth time.
“And your dad? Is he…?”
“He’s okay,” she interrupted. “For now, at least. Let’s just, please, talk about anything else,” she said to the entire compartment. She turned away to look out the window, her eyes burning.
“Yeah, of course,” Harry said. “So, Durmstrang’s another wizarding school?”
“Yes,” Hermione said, “and it’s got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.”
“I think I’ve heard of it,” Ron said. “Where is it? What country?”
“Well, nobody knows, do they?”
“Er – why not?”
“There’s traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets.”
“Come off it,” Ron said, starting to laugh. “Durmstrang’s got to be about the same size as Hogwarts – how are you going to hide a great big castle?”
“But Hogwarts is hidden,” Hermione said. “Everyone knows that … well, everyone who’s read Hogwarts, A History, anyway.”
“Just you, then.” Hermione glared at him. “So go on – how d’you hide a place like Hogwarts?”
“It’s bewitched. If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying ‘DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE.’”
“So Durmstrang’ll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?” Ginny asked.
“Maybe,” Hermione said, shrugging, “or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they’ll have made it Unplottable – ”
“Come again?”
“Well, you can enchant a building so it’s impossible to plot on a map, can’t you?”
“Er … if you say so,” Harry said.
“But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north,” Hermione concluded. “Somewhere very cold, because they’ve got fur capes as part of their uniforms.”
“Ah, think of the possibilities,” Ron said dreamily. “It would’ve been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident… Shame his mother likes him…”
Ginny flipped hair off her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I could conjure up a glacier; we could get rid of him easily.” Ron laughed at this.
They spent most of the rest of the train ride chattering about the Quidditch World Cup and a mystery event that was apparently taking place at Hogwarts this year. No one knew what was happening – not even Ron, whose father had an in at the Ministry, and not even Hermione, who seemed to know everything.
Ariel barely processed any of what was being said. She kept her eyes focused on the landscape passing by as the train sped on, and on the racing raindrops on the window. Her mind kept going back to Dad, how their goodbye wasn’t nearly long enough, how she spent so many holidays away from him, and how there was the possibility that she wouldn’t see him again –
She felt a light tap on her shoulder. She pulled away from the window to face Harry, who was looking at her.
“Are you sure you’re doing alright?” he asked.
The others were still talking, paying no mind.
“Harry, I’m fine,” she said, barely louder than a whisper.
“I’ve never seen you this quiet.”
“What do you mean? I don’t talk that much.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at her.
She didn’t respond. “I mean to say… it’s okay if you’re not okay. No one’s expecting you to be.”
She met his eyes. This felt weird; it wasn’t a conversation she was used to having with him, at least, not like this. Typically, they were usually arguing and never got the chance to have a heart-to-heart conversation.
“I’m not going to force you to talk about it,” he continued. “Not now, not ever, if that’s what you need. But I am here, you know. You’re not alone.” He gave her a small smile, and she felt her heart melt.
“Thanks, Harry,” she said.
He turned away, entering back into the conversation on Quidditch.
Ariel suddenly noticed how close he was sitting to her. She didn’t know exactly what that meant – the compartment was big enough he didn’t need to be squished against her… but maybe he just wanted to be closer so they could talk without being overheard… and, of course, Ginny had mentioned he was into Cho Chang…
She glanced at him again. His hair was even more messy than usual, if that were possible.
Her heart was beating in her chest.
She thought that her feelings were less complex – a childhood crush, or something like that – something that would go away within a year. She got on that train, prepared to have those feelings put away, prepared to not feel like she was on fire when he looked at her, even if it was in anger or happiness. But no matter how much she convinced herself, no matter how much she lied to herself. Those feelings were still very much there. And by the sound of it, they weren’t mutual.
She locked eyes with Ginny, who just gave her a knowing smile.
********************
Ariel, Ginny, Luna, Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran from the horseless carriage and up the steps of the castle, arms shielding the tops of their heads. It was raining harder than ever.
“Blimey,” Ron said once they were inside, shaking his head, sending water everywhere. “If that keeps up the lake’s going to overflow. I’m soak– ARRGH!”
A large, water-filled balloon exploded from the ceiling and onto Ron’s head. Sputtering, Ron staggered into Ginny, who was beside herself with laughter, just as a second water bomb dropped – narrowly missing Hermione. It burst at Harry’s feet, and he jumped up shouting. Floating twenty feet above them, Peeves stared at them with a malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.
“PEEVES!” yelled an angry voice. “Peeves, come down here at ONCE!”
Professor McGonagall came dashing out of the Great Hall. She skidded on the wet floor, grabbing Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.
“Ouch – sorry, Miss Granger – ”
“That’s all right, Professor!” Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.
“Peeves, get down here NOW!” Professor McGonagall screamed, straightening her pointy hat and glasses.
“Not doing nothing!” Peeves cackled, chucking a water bomb at several fifth-year girls. “Already wet, aren’t they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!” And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.
“I shall call the headmaster! I’m warning you, Peeves – ”
Peeves stuck out his tongue and zoomed off up the marble staircase.
“Well, move along, then!” Professor McGonagall said sharply to the crowd. “Into the Great Hall, come on!”
They waved to Luna as she made her way to her respective blue and bronze table while the five of them went to their red and gold clad table, Harry, Hermione and Ron sitting opposite Ariel and Ginny.
It was warmer inside the Great Hall, something Ariel was extremely grateful for. As she sat down, her stomach rumbled. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything on the train. Hopefully the Sorting wouldn’t take very long…
She looked up at the staff table, which was a lot emptier than in past years. Hagrid was missing, but that was to be expected as he was crossing the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was still out in the Entrance Hall, either drying the floor or telling off Peeves some more; and there was another empty chair, presumably for their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who hadn’t arrived yet. Ariel was a little disappointed. Professor Lupin had resigned at the end of last year, but part of her had hoped he would change his mind and come back for another term. Then again, he had had an insane year and more than deserved a break.
After what seemed like forever (during which Ron and Ginny would not stop bickering), the doors of the Great Hall opened, and McGonagall entered with a bundle of water-soaked first years.
McGonagall placed the three-legged stool on the ground in front of the first years and pulled out a dirty old wizard’s hat. Everyone stared at it. For a moment, Ariel was worried she had grabbed the wrong hat. After a long silence, the Sorting Hat finally opened its mouth (the brim) and broke out into song:
"A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide
Their favorites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
‘Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I’ve never yet been wrong,
I’ll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!”
The Great Hall rang with applause.
The Sorting began – and finished – and Dumbledore finally got to his feet.
“I have only two words to say to you,” he told them, smiling wide. “Tuck in.”
The rain was still drumming heavily outside as Ariel dug into her magically filled plate. Another clap of thunder shook the windows as the first course finished, and the golden plates were filled instantly with a multitude of puddings.
As the last bit of dessert crumbs disappeared off her plate, Dumbledore stood again. Now that she has eaten, Ariel was ready for bed. She hoped his speech wouldn’t be too long.
“So! Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”
The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched, but he continued. “As always, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”
Ariel could hear Fred and George yell, “ What ?” down the table.
Dumbledore went on, feigning obliviousness to the sudden outburst this has caused. “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts – ”
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors banged open once again. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long, withered staff. Every head turned toward the stranger, who was illuminated by the lightning that flashed across the ceiling.
He lowered his hood and shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair. It was clumping and falling out in some places. He began to walk up toward the staff table, a dull clunk echoing his every other step. He reached the end of the table and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling, and Ariel saw his face.
Every inch of skin was covered in scars, some fresh, some old. A large chunk of the nose was missing, and one of his eyes was large, vivid, and electric blue (his other eye small and beady). The blue eye was moving continuously, without blinking, and Ariel had the strangest feeling that it wasn’t his original eye and could see through anything.
The stranger stretched out a hand that was as scarred as his face, and Dumbledore took it. Dumbledore gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.
“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore said brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”
None of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid; Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody’s bizarre appearance that they couldn’t process anything else.
“He’s an Auror,” Ron said to them in a whisper.
“Auror?” Ariel asked.
“Dark wizard catcher.” Ginny responded.
“What happened to him?” Hermione whispered. “What happened to his face?”
Ron shook his head. “Dunno.”
Moody didn’t seem to mind his less-than-warm welcome. He reached into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long swig from it.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”
“You’re JOKING!” Fred Weasley said loudly.
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed.
Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. “I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar …”
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, cutting him off.
“Er – but maybe this is not the time … no … Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament … well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.”
“A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities – until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”
“ Death toll ?” thought Ariel, sharing a look with Hermione, who had the same worry scrawled over her face.
“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.”
“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”
At every table, Ariel could see people whispering to their neighbors, more than likely claiming they want to be the Hogwarts champion.
She groaned internally. Harry and Ron were going to try and enter, weren’t they?
“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen years or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This – ” Dumbledore raised his voice, for several people had started to shout furiously “ – is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champions.”
“Thank God. ” sighed Ariel in her mind, smiling slightly at Harry and Ron’s crest-fallen faces.
“I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected.”
“And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop, chop!”
Notes:
quick question: would you guys want me to write in different POVs more often? and who should I write more interactions with Ariel? Harry? Ron? Luna?
You comments are much appreciated!!!
<3
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Notes:
note: ariel's scar used to be from her left eye-brow to her collarbone. I have now changed it so that her scar starts from her collarbone and ends at her ribs.
also Gothetta?
sue me for forgetting to write in different POVs ;-;
enjoy!!!!!
Chapter Text
Ariel sat at the Gryffindor table, her spoon idly circling her porridge the next morning, though she’d long finished eating. The Great Hall buzzed with excited chatter, all centering on the same topic: the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone was talking about it, speculating which students might be chosen, what kinds of challenges they might face, and whether Beauxbatons girls really wore silk uniforms, as Seamus insisted.
She wasn't sure how Ginny managed to spot her brooding from all the way down the table, but the younger girl appeared beside her moments later, plopping into the empty seat with an orange in one hand and a knowing smile on her face.
“You’re doing it again,” Ginny said casually, peeling the orange with a flick of her wand.
“Doing what?” Ariel asked, blinking.
“Staring off like someone just told you Flobberworms are sentient. Which they’re not, by the way. I checked.”
Ariel chuckled despite herself. “I’m just tired.”
Ginny gave her a side-glance. “Sure. Nothing to do with Harry, or the fact we might host the most dangerous competition in wizarding history?”
Ariel sighed. “It's not like I don’t care… it’s just…” She hesitated, watching the enchanted ceiling swirl with soft morning clouds. “I guess it just seems a bit distant. Like it doesn’t involve people like us.”
“Because we’re under seventeen?”
“Because we’re not the kind of people they pick for tournaments. Or-” She cut herself off, then shook her head. “Never mind.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes at her but let it slide. “Well, for what it’s worth, if it did involve us, I think you'd be brilliant. Smarter than Fred and George, for starters.”
Ariel smiled. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”
“Oh, I hope they do.”
Their laughter joined the hum of conversation, and for a moment, Ariel forgot the anxiety that had clung to her since the train. She forgot the Prophet headlines. Forgot the hollow, persistent ache left by her father’s illness. She just laughed.
But it didn’t last.
That afternoon, the weather had finally cleared. Students had taken to the grounds for some sun before classes began properly the next day. Ariel wandered along the edge of the Black Lake, needing space. That’s where Harry found her - or perhaps stumbled upon her.
“You alright?” he asked, falling into step beside her, hands in his pockets. His hair was a tangle of windswept black that made her fingers itch to flatten it.
“Define alright,” she said lightly.
He smirked. “Well, you’re not being chased by a basilisk, so I’d say you’re doing pretty well.”
She gave a small laugh. “Low bar.”
They walked in companionable silence for a while, watching the giant squid lazily lift a tentacle above the lake’s surface, the sunlight glinting off the ripples.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Harry said eventually. “This whole Triwizard thing.”
Ariel nodded. “I wonder what kind of tasks they’ll have to face.”
“Probably something awful. Dragons, maybe.” He grinned, then added, “You’d handle it better than me, though.”
“I’d freeze. Probably fall right into the dragon’s mouth.”
“Doubt that.”
They stopped near a large flat stone by the water’s edge. Ariel sat, hugging her knees. Harry joined her, a comfortable closeness between them that sent a flicker of heat through her chest. But it wasn’t like before. Not quite.
“Do you think Cho’s going to enter?” she asked, immediately regretting it.
Harry blinked. “Cho?”
“You know,” she said too casually, picking at a thread on her robe, “she’s older. Talented. Pretty.”
He gave a short laugh. “Where’d that come from?”
Ariel shrugged. “Ginny mentioned it. That you might be into her.”
Silence. She risked a glance and saw him looking at her, puzzled. “Ginny talks too much,” he said.
Ariel didn’t press. She didn’t want to know. Not really. The fluttering in her stomach had already twisted into something sour. “Just curious.”
They sat for a bit longer, until the sun dipped behind a thick cloud, and the temperature dropped.
“I should get going,” she said, standing. “I promised Luna I’d meet her before dinner.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
But as they parted ways, Ariel couldn’t help but notice the way Harry watched her leave. Or maybe she imagined it.
********************
Luna had set up camp in a quiet courtyard near the Herbology greenhouses. She was sitting on a stone bench, drawing what appeared to be a cross between a manticore and a teacup.
“It’s for the Quibbler,” she said dreamily. “Daddy thinks the Ministry is breeding them.”
Ariel sat beside her. “What do they do?”
“They predict the weather. Not very well, though.”
They giggled.
“I like it here,” Luna said, gazing up at the drifting clouds. “Hogwarts always feels… peaceful. Even when it isn’t.”
Ariel leaned back, letting the cold stone cool her spine. “I wish I felt that.”
Luna turned to her, her wide eyes hosting a subtle gleam of I-know-something-that-you-don’t. “You do, but you just have to find it.”
********************
Ariel barely remembered falling asleep the night before, but the morning greeted her with an agonizing certainty.
Every bone in her body felt like it was grinding against itself. Her skin was feverish and clammy. A pounding throb pulsed through her skull, and the sunlight lancing through the curtains felt like a personal attack. She curled tighter under her blankets, trembling. Her breath was ragged, and her limbs felt like they’d been crushed beneath stone.
She knew exactly what day it was.
The full moon.
And although it was her second, it still hurt as hell.
The scratch (if you were putting things lightly) stretched across her collarbone and ribs was mostly healed now-a faint, silvery scar-but the consequences were impossible to ignore. Remus hadn’t meant to scratch her. It had been an accident. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened at the end of the summer, with Hermione, Harry, Ron, Luna and Ginny being the exception. She told the girls in her dorm that she went hiking on a mountain in the summer and fell. But the truth was messier, harder. He had hurt her, and though it wasn’t a full bite, it had been enough. Enough to change something fundamental.
She wasn’t a werewolf.
Not completely.
But she wasn’t just a girl anymore, either.
By the time she finally managed to drag herself out of bed, she couldn’t walk straight. Her knees buckled halfway down the Gryffindor staircase. Ginny, who was coming back up for something she’d forgotten, caught her just in time.
“Ariel!” she gasped. “You should’ve said something-come on, lean on me-”
“I… can’t,” Ariel muttered, clenching her jaw against another wave of pain.
Together, they got her to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey didn’t ask questions. She simply guided Ariel to a bed, gave her something cool and silvery to drink, and drew the curtains.
“You’ll stay here today,” the nurse said gently. “It’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Ariel didn’t respond. She was already halfway unconscious, limbs twisting under the sheets as the moon-still unseen-pulled at something ancient and painful inside her.
********************
She drifted in and out of sleep all day, her dreams fractured and strange. Sometimes she was in a forest, running on four legs. Sometimes she was just lying in bed, unable to move, watching the light change on the stone ceiling above her.
Around lunch, familiar voices pulled her back.
“I brought soup,” Hermione said softly, pulling the curtain aside.
“She doesn’t want soup, she wants chocolate frogs,” Ron said, holding up a handful.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “She needs rest, not sugar.”
“I brought both,” Luna added serenely, setting down a wrapped package that suspiciously smelled like onions and lavender.
“Guys, be quiet! We don’t want to startle her.” shushed Harry, somewhere near Ariel
“Startle her? What is she, a feral animal?” asked Ginny, something flashing in her eyes.
Ariel blinked her heavy eyes open, managing a weak smile.
“You all look like a weird hospital choir,” she rasped.
Ron gave her a crooked grin. “We’re your weird choir.”
Hermione sat gently on the edge of the bed. “How bad is it today?”
“Bad,” Ariel admitted. “Worse than I expected. It feels like… like my whole body is out of sync.”
Ginny handed her a damp cloth, placing it on her forehead. “It’s not going to be like this forever. Lupin said it gets better with time.”
Ariel nodded faintly. “He said that. But he also said the first year’s the worst.”
The room went quiet for a while. They weren’t afraid of her-she was grateful for that. But there was a shared weight in the air. They all understood the seriousness of it. Even Luna, who hummed softly as she unpacked the chocolate frogs.
“I’ve been reading about half-transformations,” Hermione offered after a moment. “It’s rare, but there are some cases. You might not ever shift fully, but the pain... it might always come during full moons.”
Ariel closed her eyes. “Great.”
“But you’re not alone,” Harry said, firmly. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Yeah,” Ron said. “You’ll just have to let me copy your Astronomy notes on full moon nights.”
Ariel laughed, though it hurt. “Deal.”
They stayed with her until Madam Pomfrey shooed them away for dinner. Luna lingered a moment longer, tucking the blanket more tightly around Ariel.
“The moon only takes what you let it,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
And then she, too, was gone.
********************
Ariel was alone again.
Outside the windows, the moon had fully risen-large, luminous, indifferent.
Her body had begun to burn.
Every muscle tightened beneath her skin. Her fingers curled, spasming as if they were claws. She wasn’t transforming - there wasn’t fur, or growling, or the kind of horror story she had imagined. It was just pain. Intense, undiluted, crawling up her spine and into her skull. Her jaw ached from clenching it, and her ribs felt like they were going to crack open.
She cried out once, biting it back so Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t come rushing. She didn’t want help. There wasn’t any help.
This was her life now.
********************
The next evening, Ariel was back in the common room. She wasn’t at full strength - her shoulders were sore, and she had moved through her classes like a ghost - but she was upright.
Harry flopped into the armchair across from her, Astronomy star charts spilling from his arms like parchment waterfalls.
“I’m doomed,” he declared. “This constellation map might as well be a Rorschach test. Nothing looks like it’s supposed to.”
Ariel raised an eyebrow. “You mean that blob isn’t clearly Ursa Minor?”
“That’s a bear?” Harry squinted. “It looks like a cauldron on legs.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Exactly why I need a tutor.”
Ariel shifted to sit beside him, pointing at his chart. “Okay, first of all-this star here? That’s Polaris. That’s your anchor. Everything else rotates around it.”
He frowned. “That bright one?”
“Yep. It’s always north.”
As she leaned over to guide his hand with the quill, their arms brushed. She didn’t move away.
Harry looked at her. “You’re better tonight.”
“Mostly. The aftereffects are worse than I thought they’d be.”
He nodded slowly, eyes still on her. “You were really brave, you know.”
Ariel scoffed. “I cried into a pillow for half the night.”
“Still brave,” he said, smiling slightly. “You didn’t run from it.”
For a moment, something hung in the air between them - unspoken, warm, just slightly electric.
Ariel looked away first, refocusing on the chart.
“Alright, Potter,” she said. “Let’s make your stars less stupid.”
“Best compliment I’ve gotten all week.”
********************
The sun was dipping low over the Hogwarts grounds, casting long shadows across the empty Quidditch pitch. Ariel tightened her grip on her broomstick, grinning as Harry landed beside her with a soft thud.
“Ready for a few laps?” she asked, eyes sparkling with playful challenge.
Harry nodded, adjusting his grip. “Only if you don’t leave me in the dust.”
Ariel laughed, feeling a flutter in her chest as they pushed off the ground, their brooms slicing through the cool evening air. The wind whipped past her, hair streaming behind her as she chased Harry around the pitch’s oval, their laughter echoing through the grounds.
For a few laps, it was just the rush of speed, the thrill of flight, and the quiet closeness of being side by side. When they finally touched down, both breathing a little heavier, Ariel caught Harry’s glance and felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the exertion.
********************
Later, seated cross-legged on a cushy armchair near the fire, Ariel spread out a stack of parchment filled with star charts and notes.
“So, the Sirius constellation is actually a dog, right?” Harry asked, tracing the stars with his finger.
“Exactly,” Ariel said softly. “And it’s brightest in the winter sky. Here, look - if you imagine the stars connected like this...” She pointed at the parchment, her voice calm and patient.
Harry watched her carefully, his usual confidence softened by genuine curiosity. Ariel’s heart skipped as she caught his focused gaze - so different from the usual rush of Quidditch or the chaos of his usual demeanour.
“You make this way easier to understand,” Harry admitted quietly.
Ariel smiled, cheeks warming. “I’m glad. Astronomy’s kind of my thing.”
The firelight flickered, and for a moment, the room felt small and safe - just the two of them, a quiet space in the middle of a hectic world.
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Notes:
WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!!!
WE GOT A CHAPTER IN A TOTALLY DIFFERENT POV!!!!!
also, you lot are lucky.
one chapter yesterday, another today!
maybe i'll post one tomorrow just to spoil you lot.
and to introduce a new character (cough Gothetta cough)
Chapter Text
The Ravenclaw common room was unusually quiet that evening, though quiet in Ravenclaw Tower never meant silence. Here, it was the hush of quills scratching across parchment, the flutter of pages being turned, the occasional murmur of an incantation whispered under a breath. Books were everywhere - stacked in precarious towers on desks and chairs, levitating gently in mid-air, or slumbering on velvet cushions like ancient, sleeping pets.
The room was a marvel of elegance and intellect, perched high above the rest of Hogwarts. The ceiling, domed and painted the deepest shade of midnight, had been enchanted to mirror the night sky. Silver stars glimmered above, shifting slowly with the real heavens outside. The light came not from torches or candles but from floating glass orbs, casting a gentle silvery glow across the marble floors and sapphire rugs. An enormous bronze statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood near the fireplace, her stone eyes forever contemplative, her hands outstretched as if offering unseen wisdom to those clever enough to understand.
Luna Lovegood wandered through this beauty like a ghost slipping between dreams. She clutched a large book to her chest - Sub-Aquatic Cryptozoology and You - its pages heavy and slightly damp from the library’s moisture corners. Her long, dirty-blonde hair shimmered slightly in the magical light, and she wore a necklace of corks and seashells that jingled faintly with each step.
She had just passed the grand spiral staircase when the whispers started again.
“She’s so weird.”
“Did you see what she was wearing today?”
“I swear she talks to paintings.”
The voices came from a window nook, where three fourth-year girls were hunched over a stack of Arithmancy charts, but their eyes followed Luna as she moved past. They didn’t bother to lower their voices.
“She said something about Wrackspurts again at breakfast.”
Luna paused for half a heartbeat. She did not turn, nor speak. Her expression didn’t change. Instead, she moved to the stairs, climbing slowly, her bare feet making no sound on the cold stone steps. The laughter behind her was soft and sharp, like the sound of glass cracking beneath velvet.
In the dormitory, she slipped through the curtains of her bed and pulled them tightly closed. Her bed was the only place in the room she could truly be alone, and tonight she needed the company of quiet more than anything else.
********************
She didn’t tell Ginny or Ariel. There were things Luna didn’t say aloud - not because she didn’t want to, but because some feelings were like bubbles under a frozen lake. Too deep. Too delicate. Naming them might cause them to shatter.
Ginny, bold and sharp-tongued, would’ve hexed the whispering girls without hesitation. Ariel, with her wild Gryffindor curls and sharper-than-you’d-expect mind, would’ve said something perfectly cutting and cool, in that way she had when someone crossed a line.
Luna liked them both deeply. She knew they cared. But caring could turn into worry, and worry led to questions Luna wasn’t ready to answer.
So she smiled the next morning when she met them at breakfast, sliding onto the bench beside Ariel and stealing half a baked tomato from her plate.
“Oi!” Ariel said, mock-offended, but handed her the rest anyway. “That cost me a Galleon in bribery.”
“For what?” Luna asked dreamily.
“Convincing Ginny not to sneak up to the Owlery last night to curse Zacharias Smith.”
“I wasn’t going to curse him,” Ginny muttered, sipping her pumpkin juice. “Just… mildly inconvenience his eyebrows.”
They laughed, and Luna let the sound wash over her, warm and bright. Her friends didn’t need to know everything. She had her secrets, and she had them.
********************
It happened a week later, after a particularly unkind Charms class when someone had bewitched her robes to trail ink behind her. Professor Flitwick had been kind enough to vanish the mess, but the laughter lingered like the stain of smoke.
That night, Luna wandered the corridors long after curfew. Her footsteps were slow, quiet. The halls were nearly empty - just portraits dozing in their frames, whispering among themselves, and the occasional flicker of Peeves in the distance.
She was walking the seventh-floor corridor near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy when she felt it.
A shift.
One moment, there was nothing but smooth wall opposite the tapestry. The next, a door. Large, ancient-looking, with a brass handle shaped like a twisted tree branch.
Curious - but not surprised - Luna stepped inside.
The room that met her eyes was like nothing she had ever seen. It was warm, filled with golden light from a hearth that roared cheerfully at one end. There were couches here, plush and inviting, draped in velvet and strewn with patchwork blankets. The walls were lined with shelves—some holding books, others odd trinkets: tiny winged clocks, enchanted snow globes, glittering bottles with dancing lights trapped inside.
A kettle whistled softly on a nearby table. Tea and honey biscuits had already been laid out.
Luna sat down slowly, almost reverently, on a wide indigo couch. The cushions sank just right beneath her. She curled her legs beneath her and let out a long breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
“Home.” she whispered aloud, her voice cracking slightly.
The room didn’t answer - but somehow, it didn’t need to.
********************
The following Monday brought one of the most memorable Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons Luna could remember. Mad-Eye Moody - real or not, Luna wasn’t sure; Ginny insisted he was someone else in disguise and Ariel was sure that he had a tentacle for a leg – stomped into the classroom with his usual growl and thunking wooden leg.
“Today we’re talkin’ cursed objects,” he barked. “You ever pick up a necklace in a shop that turns your bones to jelly? No? Good. Because that means someone else did first, and now they’re in St. Mungo’s.”
The class leaned forward as Moody slammed a heavy, iron-bound chest onto the table. With a flick of his wand, the lid snapped open, revealing a collection of bizarre and slightly horrifying items: a mirror with eyes, a silver locket that hissed softly, a ring pulsing with dark energy.
“Recognizing cursed items can save your life,” Moody continued. “Or someone else’s. The first step: never trust anything that thinks for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain .”
Ginny’s eyes hardened.
“ Oh ,” Luna thought. “ The diary was cursed .”
He demonstrated diagnostic spells, defensive counters, and even how to safely remove a cursed item from a friend without worsening the curse. Luna took careful notes, fascinated, though Ariel whispered that she was pretty sure one of the items was wiggling its eyebrows at her.
By the end of the lesson, Moody had them practice the “ Finite Incantatem” and “ Revelio Hexia” spells on enchanted decoys. Luna's turned into a lump of coal that began to scream. Ariel’s transformed into a particularly rude sock.
********************
The arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations turned the castle into a festival of whispers and wonder.
Luna stood just behind Ginny and Ariel on the front steps of Hogwarts, the October wind lifting her hair and tugging at the hem of her robes. Most of the school had gathered on the lawn or steps, buzzing with anticipation.
“They're coming!” someone cried.
First came the Beauxbatons carriage - larger than any Luna had ever seen, pulled through the sky by a dozen enormous Abraxans. The blue of the carriage was so bright it almost hurt the eyes, and as it landed with a ground-shaking thud, delicate silver dust scattered around it like snow.
Out stepped a line of students, swathed in flowing silk robes of icy blue. They looked ethereal, graceful, half like dancers and half like royalty. Their headmistress, a giant woman with an elegance that defied size, descended last. Even the wind seemed to hush for her.
Luna thought they looked like living sculptures, all beauty and poise. Ariel, beside her, muttered, “I guess Seamus was right. They do wear silk. Ugh , now I owe him a Galleon.”
Then came the Durmstrang ship, rising from the lake like something out of a half-forgotten dream. The water churned and frothed as the great black mast broke the surface, followed by jagged sails and the hull of a ship that looked like it had seen battle. When the students disembarked, they moved with a soldier’s precision, their cloaks heavy and fur-lined, their eyes sharp and cold.
Luna didn’t know what she expected of them, but they reminded her of wolves - elegant and dangerous.
“Alright,” said Ginny, exhaling, “now I definitely feel like a scruffy garden gnome.”
“I always thought gnomes had very symmetrical faces,” Luna offered helpfully.
Ariel laughed aloud, throwing an arm around Luna’s shoulder. “You’re my favorite lunatic.”
********************
The whispering didn't stop. If anything, it grew more frequent as the school year deepened. The Beauxbatons students were admired openly; the Durmstrang boys were respected, feared, and whispered about in a different tone entirely. Luna, meanwhile, remained a curiosity, an easy target. The foreign students rarely looked her way. The Ravenclaws only seemed more irritated by her presence with each passing day.
She stopped trying to sit in the common room. Instead, she drifted more and more often toward the seventh-floor corridor. The Room of Requirement always greeted her like an old friend, molding itself to her need without judgment.
One evening, it became a cozy observatory. A telescope reached up through an open dome, stars glittering outside like scattered diamonds. Luna curled in a blanket on the floor, sipping peppermint tea, watching satellites blink across the sky.
Another night, it became a garden - overgrown and lush, vines curling up the walls, glowing mushrooms lighting a winding path. She walked barefoot on the mossy floor and breathed in the scent of damp earth and lilac.
The room never asked her questions. It never needed her to explain why she was there. It simply became what she needed, when she needed it.
********************
The first Hogsmeade weekend brought crisp wind and the smell of butterbeer. The sky was painted soft grey, the kind of cloudy day that made the warm lights of the village all the more inviting.
Ginny, Ariel, and Luna walked down the path together, scarves wrapped tightly, laughing about a fifth-year Slytherin who had accidentally dyed his robes bright fuchsia.
Honeydukes was packed to bursting, but that didn’t stop Luna from spending ten minutes comparing different types of fizzing whizbees while Ariel and Ginny debated the superior joke product at Zonko’s. Eventually, they settled in The Three Broomsticks, their cheeks flushed with cold, steam rising from their mugs.
Luna stirred her butterbeer with a cinnamon stick, only half-listening to her friends' banter.
“Did you hear there’s going to be a Yule Ball?” Ginny asked suddenly.
“Rumor has it McGonagall’s already threatening to turn anyone who misbehaves into a pineapple,” Ariel replied.
Luna smiled faintly. The idea of a magical ball was wonderful - like something out of a story - but she knew she wouldn’t go. Not unless someone asked, and he wouldn’t. That was alright. She liked watching from the edges. You could see more that way.
********************
The night of the Triwizard selection, the Great Hall was transformed. The goblet blazed with blue flames, seated on a pedestal in front of the teachers’ table, and anticipation crackled through the air like lightning in a storm cloud.
Luna sat beside Ariel and Ginny, hands folded quietly in her lap. Everyone was speaking too loudly, too fast - nervous energy spilled from every corner of the hall.
When the first name burst from the Goblet, students jumped.
“Viktor Krum!”
The Durmstrang students roared. Krum rose with slow, quiet confidence, accepting the accolade as if it were simply expected. Luna watched him, curious. There was a darkness behind his calm, something intense that reminded her of storm-tossed seas.
Next, the Goblet flared again.
“Fleur Delacour!”
The Beauxbatons table sparkled with applause. Fleur stood, tall and stunning and utterly unfazed by the noise. Luna thought she looked like something carved from moonlight and fire.
Then the Goblet turned red a third time.
“Cedric Diggory!”
The Hufflepuffs burst into cheers, and Luna joined them, clapping politely. She had nothing against Cedric. He smiled kindly in the halls and once stuck up for her when a Seventh year Ravenclaw called her nasty things.
Then… it happened.
The flames shot high once more, unnaturally. Everyone froze.
“Harry Potter!”
The silence afterward was a different kind of roar.
Luna blinked slowly, watching Harry rise from his place at the Gryffindor table. Confusion warred with disbelief on every face. Even Ariel had stopped chewing her treacle tart.
“He didn’t put his name in,” Ginny whispered.
“I don’t think the Goblet lies,” Ariel said, frowning.
Luna said nothing. Her gaze wasn’t on Harry. It was on the goblet, which still burned faintly red, as if something unfinished lingered in the air.
********************
The days after Harry’s name came from the Goblet were filled with noise.
Everyone had an opinion. Everyone had a theory. Hallways buzzed like beehives. Ravenclaw’s table in particular were alive with speculation - how the Goblet could be fooled, what ancient magic had gone wrong, or whether Harry was just lying. Luna often sat quietly, stirring her porridge, watching threads of jam spiral in her spoon.
She believed Harry. Not because he’d said anything, but because she’d seen something in his eyes that night. Not triumph. Not defiance.
Just confusion.
Fear.
And something else. Something she didn’t yet have a name for.
That night, the Room of Requirement appeared again. Luna walked its familiar corridor as if pulled by an invisible thread, past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, past suits of armor that muttered in their sleep.
The door appeared silently, as it always did.
This time, the room became a meadow. Grass swayed in a wind that didn’t touch her hair. Fireflies glimmered in the air. In the center of the space stood a willow tree, its branches trailing low and gentle like a curtain.
She sat beneath it and closed her eyes.
Sometimes, she didn’t want answers. She only wanted space to feel.
********************
A week later, Professor Moody - still terrifying and still oddly brilliant - called the third-years outside for a more “hands-on demonstration.”
“We’re going to practice identifying cursed environmental triggers, ” he growled, pointing his gnarled walking stick toward a line of oddly glowing objects placed across the courtyard. “Objects don’t need to be handed to you to harm you. They can sit on a desk, or on a shelf, or on a park bench. That’s how they catch fools.”
He pointed at a small collection of cursed items: a pair of gloves, a watch, a shattered mosaic, and what looked like an innocent stuffed rabbit.
“First lesson: never assume a curse will look scary. Sometimes, it looks like something you loved as a child.”
Luna shivered at that.
“Now, partner up!”
She found herself beside Ariel, who cracked her knuckles and muttered, “Let’s go destroy some evil plushies.”
They took turns using “ Revelio Hexia” and “ Revelio” , spells Moody had drilled into them the previous week. When Luna cast hers on the stuffed rabbit, its button eyes turned black, and the air around it shimmered with a cold draft.
“Clever,” she whispered. “It’s cursed to make you forget everything about yourself. Who you are, who you love.”
Moody glanced over, one eye swiveling independently of the other. “Correct, Lovegood. Nasty piece of work. Quiet ones often are.”
She smiled faintly. Not at the curse. At the recognition.
********************
Luna started writing letters she never sent.
She kept them in a small silver box tucked beneath her bed in Ravenclaw Tower, under a false bottom she had enchanted herself. The letters were to her mother, mostly.
Mum,
They laughed at me again today. It’s like being invisible and too bright at the same time.
Mum,
The Room knows when I need it. It’s like you. It always knew when I was too quiet, even when Dad didn’t.
Mum,
I think I’d like to be a willow tree. They bend but never break.
She never cried when she wrote them. Luna rarely cried. It wasn’t because she wasn’t sad - she simply didn’t have the time to fall apart. People like her, people who saw things others missed, didn’t always get to be fragile.
Besides, how would one send letters to someone who was dead?
********************
One evening, after dinner, Ariel caught her slipping out of the Great Hall alone.
“Luna.”
She turned.
“You okay?”
Luna hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. Just off to count the wind spirits in the west corridor. They’re most active after dessert.”
Ariel squinted. “Is that real?”
Luna tilted her head. “It’s as real as the things people choose not to see.”
That earned a grin. Ariel bumped her shoulder gently. “You know we love you, right?”
Luna nodded, a small smile forming. “I know. That’s why I don’t tell you the sad things. You’d carry them too heavily.”
She turned and walked away before Ariel could reply.
********************
The Ravenclaw common room was empty when Luna returned that night.
But the walls still whispered.
Not from voices. From memory.
She walked to the domed window, looking out over the mountains. Snow had begun to fall, dusting the peaks in silver. She pressed a hand to the glass, breathing fog against it, then drew a spiral with her fingertip.
Not everything needed to be understood.
Not every pain needed to be named aloud.
Some things were meant to be carried. Quietly. Gently. Like fragile stars.
And for now, that was enough.
Chapter 11: Chapter 11
Notes:
heyyyyyyyy
new chapter!!!
woop woop!!!
also Gothetta...
YOUR PRESENT HAS ARRIVEDDD!!!!!
enjoy ;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The silence in the Great Hall was deafening.
“Harry Potter!”
The name echoed like a thunderclap, bouncing off the enchanted ceiling. Harry sat frozen, his blood suddenly cold. All around him, time seemed to pause. Ginny had been mid-sip of her pumpkin juice - it sloshed down her front as she choked, eyes wide. Ariel had just been lifting a slice of treacle tart to her plate; her hand froze in midair, the fork trembling. Her brown eyes - flecked with a striking goldish-green that always caught the firelight - were locked on him, unreadable. Luna simply stared at him with her usual dreamy calm, but there was something kind in her gaze, something gentle that made it even harder to bear.
Harry stood slowly, legs numb, every breath tight in his chest. The Goblet had chosen him.
But he hadn’t put his name in.
He could feel everyone watching him as he walked past the rows of stunned students. Ron’s expression was unreadable - flat and stiff, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Hermione looked stricken, her eyes flicking from Harry to the Goblet and back again. Ginny was still dabbing at the pumpkin juice soaking her robes, forgotten. Ariel’s fork finally clinked against her plate, the treacle tart untouched, but she didn’t move. Her eyes never left his. And Luna… Luna just watched, her head tilted slightly, as if trying to understand something the rest of them hadn’t yet noticed.
He stepped into the antechamber behind the Great Hall, the door clicking shut behind him. The room felt too small, the walls too close. Cedric Diggory was already there, looking puzzled, and moments later, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour joined them, murmuring in their native languages.
Then Dumbledore came in. And the questioning began.
He said he didn’t know how his name got in.
He said he didn’t want to compete.
He said he hadn’t done anything.
But no one really listened - not then.
And when the magical contract was explained, when it became clear there was no backing out, the reality hit Harry like a Bludger to the ribs.
He was in the Triwizard Tournament.
********************
The whispers didn’t stop. If anything, they’d only sharpened.
Every hallway echoed with speculation. “He must’ve tricked the Goblet,” they said. “He wanted attention.” “How full of himself do you have to be?” People no longer lowered their voices when Harry walked by.
But none of that stung quite like Ron’s silence.
Ron hadn’t spoken to Harry since that night in the Great Hall - not really. Not even in the dormitory. He wasn’t shouting or throwing things, which might’ve been easier to handle. He just… stopped talking. Stopped looking at him like a best mate. And Harry, already overwhelmed, didn’t have the energy to chase him.
Hermione, thankfully, stuck by him. She believed him without question and made it her personal mission to figure out how his name had gotten in. She had them in the library within hours, poring over volumes on magical contracts, tournament rules, and precedents that barely existed. Nothing helped. But working gave them something to do besides worry.
He wasn’t entirely alone, though.
Ginny would wave at him at meals, and Luna gave him thoughtful looks in passing, occasionally dropping strange but well-meaning advice like, “If you eat lavender before sleeping, your dreams will be braver.”
And Ariel - Ariel had never really stopped being his friend, even after the ugly fight they’d had last year.
They hadn’t exactly made up. Neither of them had ever apologized for the things they’d said. Harry still remembered the sting of shouting at her, “My parents may be dead, but at least they cared for me!” He remembered the way she’d gone pale, her own words just as sharp, hurled back at him like a curse.
But they hadn’t drifted away.
Maybe it was stubbornness, or maybe it was quiet loyalty – but after the fight, Ariel had kept showing up. Sitting near him in the common room. Offering help. For weeks now, she’d been tutoring him in Astronomy, patiently explaining star charts and constellations, helping him prepare for exams, just like she always had.
So when he sat with Hermione in the library, eyes blurry from stress and reading too many useless legal texts, Ariel arrived with a heavy book under one arm and dropped it on the table.
“Magical Contracts and Tournament Ethics, Volume III,” she said. “It doesn’t have answers, but it’s got diagrams that might help you understand how binding these rules are. If someone did enter you by magic, this book will tell you what kind.”
Harry looked up at her, startled. “Thanks.”
She shrugged and slid into the chair next to Hermione. “You still have to fight. But understanding the rules gives you some power back. Doesn’t it?”
Harry nodded slowly.
They didn’t talk about what had happened last year. Not directly. But they didn’t have to.
Because actions speak louder than words.
********************
That night, when most of Hogwarts had gone to sleep, Harry slipped quietly from the Gryffindor common room, pulling his cloak tight around him. Hagrid had arranged for him to meet by the edge of the Forbidden Forest – said there was something important he needed to see.
The moon was low and silver as Harry made his way through the trees, the crunch of dead leaves soft beneath his boots. Then he heard it: a deep, rumbling roar that shook the air.
Ahead, in a wide clearing bathed in moonlight, stood four dragons. Massive, chained, and restless. Their scales shimmered like jewels - green, blue, black, and bronze - each one terrifying in its own way.
Harry’s breath caught.
There was the sleek Welsh Green, pacing back and forth with narrow eyes. The Chinese Fireball, curled protectively around her clutch of eggs. The Swedish Short-Snout, with wings spread wide. And the Hungarian Horntail - the largest and fiercest, its black scales jagged and sharp, its tail twitching dangerously.
Hagrid stood beside him, grinning. “See ‘em up close, Harry? These are the dragons you might be facing in the First Task. Thought you’d want to know what you’re up against.”
Harry’s eyes never left the Horntail. It roared, smoke billowing from its nostrils.
“I’m supposed to fight one of those?”
“Exactly.” Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder. “But don’ worry none. Yeh’re a natural flyer. Dragons respect skill, not just magic. Yeh’ve got a chance.”
Harry swallowed hard. The fire in the creature’s throat felt like it could singe his skin even from here.
********************
The morning after the dragon encounter, Harry found himself heading straight to the library, clutching a worn notebook and feeling the weight of the dragons’ fiery threat still burning in his mind. Hermione was already there, waiting in their usual corner, her eyes bright with determination.
Ron wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
That absence was a quiet ache. Hermione glanced up when Harry sat down, biting her lip. “I tried talking to him. He won’t say much - just… distant.”
Harry nodded, swallowing the frustration. He missed Ron’s easy jokes, his fierce loyalty. The silence between them felt heavier than any roar of a dragon.
They threw themselves into research, flipping through books on dragons, magical contracts, and tournament history. Hermione’s quick mind scanned text after text, pulling out useful spells and theories. Harry scribbled notes feverishly, desperate to find any edge.
Ariel joined them after a while, settling beside Hermione with a thick book on dragon behavior. Her calm presence was steady, quietly offering help.
“This one talks about guarding patterns and common distractions,” she said quietly. “Might help with the first task.”
Harry looked at her gratefully. “Thanks, Ariel.”
Ginny dropped by with a supportive smile and Luna peeked over with another odd tip about calming magic. But Ron? He was still missing in action.
Each time the trio met for study, Ron’s empty chair was a reminder that the fight for their friendship wasn’t over.
********************
The next morning, Harry was back with Hermione and Ariel, burying himself in books.
“Dragons are dangerous, but understanding them is the first step,” Hermione said, flipping through a hefty volume. “We need to know their habits, how to distract them, and what spells can keep you safe.”
Ariel leaned over, pointing at a diagram. “They guard their nests fiercely but can be fooled by sudden movements or loud noises.”
Harry nodded. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Hermione gave him a small smile. “You’re not alone in this.”
********************
Harry was struggling through a dense tome on magical creatures when a voice cut through the library’s silence like a knife.
“Honestly, Potter, what do you think you’re doing, wasting your time with this? You? In the Tournament?”
Harry looked up to see a tall, slender girl with jet-black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, sharp blue eyes glinting with skepticism. She spoke with a crisp Austrian accent, and there was a trace of sarcasm in every word.
“Anna Richter,” she introduced herself, flicking a page in the book she was holding. “Fifth year Ravenclaw. And frankly, I think you’re too stupid to be in the Triwizard Tournament.”
Harry blinked.
Hermione glanced nervously between them but said, “She’s one of the best in Hogwarts. She knows her stuff.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, the Gryffindor hero. But heroes get eaten by dragons, Potter. You need more than fame.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “So, you think I don’t stand a chance?”
“Not even close.” Anna smirked. “But since it’s clear you’re stuck with this, I’ll help you. Don’t thank me. Consider it community service.”
Hermione let out a small laugh. “We’ll take all the help we can get.”
Over the next few days, Anna was relentless.
“You call that a spell?” she snapped one afternoon, watching Harry attempt a simple levitation charm.
Harry flushed. “I’m trying.”
“Trying isn’t enough!” Anna snapped back, tapping her wand sharply. “Precision, focus! Say it like you mean it: Wingardium Leviosa! ”
Harry tried again, sending a small feather floating upward.
“About time,” Anna muttered, crossing her arms. “You’ll need better than that against a dragon.”
One evening, Ariel joined them, patiently helping Harry with Flipendo - the Knock-back Jinx. Anna watched, arms folded, eyebrows raised.
“Cute,” she said dryly when Harry finally got the spell to knock over a stack of books. “Maybe you are learning.”
Ariel smiled, undeterred. “He’s improving every day.”
Anna smirked. “Don’t get sentimental on me now. He’s still got a long way to go.”
But even as she teased, Anna’s presence pushed Harry harder than anyone. Her sarcasm was sharp, but her knowledge was sharper.
********************
Anna’s presence rippled through the library group. Luna, usually floating through life on her own peaceful wavelength, stiffened whenever Anna entered the room.
During a study session, Luna softly hummed as she traced star charts, her usual dreamy calm.
Anna sneered, loud enough for everyone to hear, “What’s with the humming? Planning to lull the dragon to sleep?”
Luna’s smile flickered, but she said nothing.
Later, when Luna carefully offered a theory about timing spells to moon phases, Anna cut in sharply, “Sure, if you want to waste time chasing moonbeams instead of preparing for real danger.”
Ginny frowned but stayed silent. Ariel sent an "Are-you-okay?" look at Luna. Harry noticed Luna’s usual calm falter - a tightness around her eyes he hadn’t seen before.
********************
The library had been a fortress of books and whispered spells for hours, but by late afternoon, Harry needed air. He slipped out the heavy wooden doors into the cool, fading light of the castle grounds.
The breeze was soft, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and distant smoke from the kitchens. Harry walked without really thinking, letting his mind drift from dragons to spells and the weight of the Tournament pressing down on him.
And then his mind shifted to Ariel.
The way her eyes look like they’re on fire in the light, the way she smiles, the way she-
“ Shut up Potter . Stop being a prick .”
Harry kept on walking and neared the edge of the courtyard, harsh laughter piercing the quiet.
Harry’s footsteps slowed as he rounded the corner and saw Malfoy leaning against a stone pillar, his pale face twisted in cruel delight. A small group of Slytherins lingered nearby, smirking.
Facing them stood Ariel.
Her back was straight, but her hands trembled at her sides.
“Look at you, Anderson,” Draco sneered, voice dripping with venom. “Trying to play with the big kids. You’re just another filthy Muggle-born, born of clueless parents who don’t even know a wand from a broomstick.”
Ariel’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes shimmered wetly.
Draco stepped closer, mocking. “Your mother’s dead, your father’s too sick to care. No wonder you cling to Potter like a stray dog. The two of you - broken kids who nobody else wants.”
Ariel blinked rapidly, tears escaping down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily with the back of her hand.
“Don’t,” she spat. “Don’t talk about my family.”
Draco laughed coldly. “Oh, what’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth? Maybe that’s all you’re good for - pathetic and weak.”
The Slytherins chuckled.
Harry’s jaw clenched.
“Leave her alone,” he said, voice low but firm.
Draco turned, surprise flickering before his sneer returned. “Oh, Potter, defending the charity case now? How noble.”
“She’s my friend ,” Harry said, stepping closer. “You don’t get to hurt her.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Potter. You don’t want to end up as broken as she is.”
Harry’s hand twitched, but he kept his voice steady. “I said enough.”
The tension thickened. The Slytherins muttered and shuffled away, Draco throwing one last glare at Ariel.
“Enjoy your little friendship, freak.”
As they left, Ariel wiped at her tears again, forcing a shaky breath.
Harry stepped beside her. “Are you alright?”
She nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m used to it. But… thanks for standing up.”
Harry felt a fierce protectiveness tighten inside him. Dragons were one thing. But he wouldn’t let anyone hurt the people he cared about - especially not with words.
Notes:
yes Gothetta i know your wondering why i made you like that.
i just needed a good excuse for ~character development~
eheheheheeheh
<333
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Great Hall buzzed with a nervous, excited energy that matched the rolling clouds outside the enchanted ceiling. Plates clinked, chatter rose and fell like waves, and owls swooped in with late morning post. Ron barely tasted his toast. He kept glancing at Harry, who sat a few seats down, flanked by Hermione and Ariel.
Ariel was in the middle of a dramatic retelling of how Peeves had dumped a mop bucket over her in the second-floor corridor the day before. Her honey-brown eyes flashed with amusement, wild brown curls bouncing as she gestured with half a slice of toast still in her hand. Ginny snorted with laughter. Even Hermione cracked a smile, though she was obviously trying to concentrate on the article she was reading in The Daily Prophet .
Ron just stared at Harry.
Harry wasn’t laughing. He was pale. His eyes kept drifting toward the high table, where Professor McGonagall and Ludo Bagman were whispering about something. Probably about the First Task.
Of the Triwizard Tournament .
Harry bloody Potter, his best mate, the boy he’d grown up with, was now a Champion. Even though he hadn’t put his name in the Goblet. Or so he said.
Ron wasn’t sure what to believe.
He tore his eyes away when Ariel threw a crumb at him. “Oi! Weasley, you look like you swallowed a Niffler.”
“I’m fine,” Ron muttered.
“You’re sulking,” Ginny said, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not sulking!”
“You so are,” Ariel said with a grin. “It’s written all over your big red face.”
Ron huffed, stabbing his egg with a fork. “I just think it’s convenient , is all. Suddenly he’s in the Tournament, and it’s like no one’s allowed to ask questions .”
Hermione shot him a look over her paper. “He didn’t put his name in.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true!”
Ariel’s grin faded a little, though her tone stayed breezy. “Harry’s not a liar, Ron. You know that.”
Ron shrugged. “Dunno. Just funny how everything always happens to him .”
Harry, who’d clearly heard them, got up. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at Ron. He just mumbled something to Hagrid as he passed and left the Hall.
Ariel stood abruptly. “I’m going to go wish him luck.”
“Me too,” Ginny added, standing as well.
Ron expected Hermione to go too, but she just folded the paper carefully and gave him a look . The kind of look that made Ron feel like he’d just failed a test he didn’t study for.
********************
The stands around the Forbidden Forest were packed with students, professors, and ministry officials. Magical banners fluttered in the cold wind. Ariel had painted red and gold streaks on her cheeks and was pacing anxiously next to Ginny and Luna, who had brought a large sign that simply read, GO HARRY . Half the letters were backwards.
“Dragons,” Ariel muttered. “ Dragons . Actual dragons.”
“He already knows,” Ginny said, clutching Ariel’s hand. “Hagrid told him a month ago. He knows what he’s doing.”
“I’m going to throw up.”
“I already did,” Luna added dreamily. “Twice.”
Ron stood stiffly a few rows behind, arms crossed, next to Seamus and Dean. He didn’t know what he was waiting for anymore. For Harry to screw up? For him to admit he lied? Or for something worse to happen?
********************
The stadium around the enclosure was packed, and it felt like the entire school was holding its breath. Flags rippled in the crisp November wind, enchanted banners shimmered with house colors, and somewhere overhead, the enchanted sky threatened snow.
Ron stood in the top corner of the spectators' area, close to the edge, craning his neck for a better view. Hermione was on one side of Ginny, white-knuckling the railing. Ariel was on her other side, shifting from foot to foot like she might start climbing over it to help.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she whispered. Her dark brown eyes scanned the arena nervously. “Why couldn’t it have been a flobberworm hunt or… or a pie-baking contest?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Because the point is danger . You did hear the part about dragons, right?”
“I heard. I just didn't think it would be a Horntail .”
Ariel’s voice dropped to a mutter. “That thing’s basically a flying sword factory.”
“Shh! They’re announcing him,” Hermione whispered.
Ludo Bagman’s magically amplified voice rang out over the crowd:
“Let’s have a warm welcome for our fourth Champion -
Harry Potter!
”
The crowd burst into cheers, but Ron couldn’t bring himself to shout. He just stared down into the arena, where Harry now stepped cautiously out onto the rocky terrain. His wand was clutched tight in his right hand. From this distance, Ron could just make out the tension in his shoulders.
The Horntail was already there - perched over her nest of eggs. Ron had seen drawings in Fantastic Beasts , but none had done justice to the sheer scale of her. Black scales like iron plates, wings spread wide, and yellow eyes tracking Harry’s every step. The golden egg shimmered beneath her massive belly.
The crowd quieted as the task began.
Harry took a deep breath, then raised his wand.
“ Accio Firebolt! ”
The word echoed across the stadium. A long, silent pause followed. For a terrifying moment, nothing happened.
Then-
A whistling grew louder, growing into a roar of wind, and suddenly Harry’s Firebolt came streaking into the stadium like a comet.
It shot into his waiting hand with a satisfying slap.
“Yes!” Ariel shouted, pumping a fist. “Okay, okay - he’s got this.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Ginny hissed.
Harry mounted the broom and kicked off from the ground in one clean motion.
The Horntail reacted instantly.
She shrieked, her wings flaring, claws tearing at the rock as she lunged forward. But Harry was already airborne, banking left hard enough to make even Ron flinch. He climbed higher, the Firebolt a blur.
The dragon opened her jaws - and unleashed a torrent of fire .
The crowd gasped. Flames filled the space Harry had just occupied. He just missed being barbecued.
“He’s flying higher than she can aim!” Hermione said, gripping Ron’s arm.
“Is he going for the egg yet?” Ron asked, squinting.
“No,” Hermione said. “He’s testing her range. Buying time.”
Ariel was biting her sleeve, muffling something that sounded like, “Please don’t die, please don’t die…”
Harry circled again, drawing her attention away from the nest. She tracked him with murderous precision, tail lashing and smashing through rock with cracks loud enough to echo through the mountains.
Then - Harry dove.
Straight down.
The crowd roared in shock.
“No no no what is he doing- ” Ron shouted.
“HARRY!” shouted Ariel, her voice barely audible above the yelling.
“He’s distracting her!” Hermione gasped.
The Horntail roared, launching into the air herself - clumsily, her wings too big for the narrow space. She almost flipped herself trying to follow, and that gave Harry the opening he needed.
He swerved low, tucked his body tight to the broomstick, and streaked forward toward the nest. The dragon caught sight of him too late - her jaws opened again, fire boiling in her throat-
Harry darted under her, past her flailing legs, under the wing , and snatched the golden egg from the nest.
“HE’S GOT IT!” Ariel screamed.
The horns blew.
The task was over.
********************
The stands exploded with noise. Everyone was shouting, some waving flags, others banging on the railings. Hermione hugged Ginny so hard they both nearly fell over. Ariel was jumping up and down, her wild hair flying, laughing and crying at the same time.
“HE DID IT! HE ACTUALLY DID IT! HARRY YOU ABSOLUTE NUTTER , YOU DID IT!”
Ron didn’t move.
He just stared down at Harry, circling once over the arena, holding the egg like it weighed nothing. Then he landed lightly on the stone, panting and sweat-soaked, but alive. Victorious.
And Ron’s heart sank - not from jealousy this time.
From guilt.
He’d spent two weeks resenting Harry. Avoiding him. Doubting him.
And Harry had just flown rings around a dragon.
“Brilliant,” Ron muttered, still frozen in place. “Absolutely mental - but brilliant.”
********************
The Gryffindor common room was chaos. Music blared from a wireless someone had sneaked in, food appeared on tables by magic (courtesy of Dobby, no doubt), and people were dancing, shouting, laughing.
Harry sat by the fire with Ariel, Ginny, Hermione - and, eventually, Ron.
Ron approached slowly, hands in his pockets. Harry looked up, not smiling, but not glaring either.
“Hey,” Ron said, awkwardly.
“Hi,” Harry replied.
Silence.
Ron scratched the back of his neck. “Listen. I was a right git. You didn’t put your name in. I know that now. That was mental, what you did out there. Brave and stupid - but brilliant.”
Harry gave a short laugh. “Thanks.”
“Friends?” Ron held out a hand.
Harry grinned and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Course.”
Ariel, watching from the couch, let out a loud, exaggerated sniff. “This is so emotional. I might cry.”
“You always cry,” Ginny teased.
“Do not! Only when someone calls me a-” She cut herself off suddenly, jaw tightening.
Everyone knew what she meant. Ron sobered. Ariel had gotten into it with a Slytherin boy just last week who’d called her a “ Mudblood ”. She’d ended up in detention for hexing him so hard he spent the night in the Hospital Wing with tentacles growing from his ears.
Harry gently bumped her shoulder. “You didn’t cry when I told you about the dragon.”
“I wanted to. But I was too busy planning to tackle you if you got burned.”
They laughed, and Ariel smiled again.
Later, while the party still roared behind them, Harry brought out the golden egg.
“Ready?” he asked.
Ron rubbed his hands together. “Let’s hear it!”
Harry opened it.
A wailing, horrible screech echoed through the room. Ariel shrieked and fell off the couch. Hermione covered her ears, while Ron cursed and tried to slam it shut.
“Bloody hell, is it screaming ?”
“Shut it, shut it!” Ginny shouted.
Harry finally managed to snap it closed.
Ariel groaned from the floor. “Is that supposed to be helpful?”
“Welcome to the Triwizard Tournament,” Ron muttered, shaking his head.
Harry laughed. “At least I didn’t get eaten by the dragon.”
“You almost did,” Hermione said.
“Worth it,” Ariel added. “You looked amazing.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, cheeks turning slightly pink.
Ron noticed. He also noticed how Ariel smiled at Harry when she thought no one was looking. He didn’t say anything, though.
They ended the night playing wizard’s chess. Ariel teamed up with Harry, who was terrible, and Ron had to constantly explain the rules to her because she kept making the knight do cartwheels instead of fighting. She didn’t win, but she made everyone laugh, and that felt better than winning anyway.
********************
The celebration in the Gryffindor common room finally began to thin out sometime past midnight. Someone had enchanted the wireless to only play songs from Celestina Warbeck’s Romantic Hits for the Bewitched and Bewildered , and that was the final straw for most of the students. Even Seamus gave up trying to dance to “You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me.”
By then, Ariel was lying sideways on the couch, half-asleep, using Harry’s sweater as a blanket. Her curls were wild, cheeks pink from laughing so much, and she was absently doodling a dragon with a speech bubble that read, “Get burned, you idiot!” onto the corner of a discarded Transfiguration worksheet.
Hermione had retreated to the corner chair with The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four open on her knees, but she kept peeking over the top of it. Ron noticed her glancing between Harry and Ariel every few pages.
Ron was stretched out on the rug in front of the fire, back propped up against the chess set box, trying to concentrate on resetting the pieces with a flick of his wand. But his mind kept drifting.
He looked at Harry - quietly talking to Ariel about the Horntail. Harry’s voice was soft, like he couldn’t quite believe he’d made it out. Ariel listened like the rest of the world didn’t exist, her brown eyes never leaving him. And every so often, Harry would smile - really smile - at something she said. Her eyes began to droop, and he shifted so Ariel could lay down comfortably.
Ron nudged Hermione with his foot. “Hey. You notice something?”
Hermione didn’t look up from her book. “You mean besides the fact that you’re finally not sulking?”
He ignored that. “Harry and Ariel. They’re getting close.”
Hermione glanced up this time. “They’ve always been close.”
“No, I mean - close-close .”
Hermione closed her book slowly. “He trusts her. He told her about the Horntail before he told us.”
Ron blinked. That hadn’t occurred to him. “Yeah, he did.”
“She helped him with Astronomy the night before the task,” Hermione added, her tone carefully neutral. “I went up to the tower to return a star chart, and they were sitting under the telescope, talking about orbits and - well - completely off-topic, if I’m honest. They were laughing too much to actually get anything done.”
Ron smirked. “Harry? Laughing during studying? That’s practically criminal.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “He also gave her two of his Chocolate Frog cards last week. Rare ones . Morgana and Ptolemy.”
Ron’s eyes widened. “Morgana? I’ve been trying to get that one for months!”
“I think,” Hermione said, voice softening, “he wanted her to have something to collect. She likes the little details in the bios. She reads every word.”
“She sketches them,” Ginny said sleepily from above them. “I saw her drawing Rowena Ravenclaw into her new sketchbook. The navy blue one she bought in Tomes and Scrolls.”
“Right,” Hermione said with a knowing look. “That sketchbook.”
Ron frowned. “Why’d you say it like that?”
Hermione shrugged. “I might’ve... seen a drawing. Of Harry. Really detailed. He was flying.”
“Oh,” Ron said. “Well... that’s something.”
They were all quiet for a while.
Then Ariel mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep, curled further into the comfy sofa, and rolled over, clutching Harry’s abandoned sweater to her chest.
“Something, indeed,” Hermione said under her breath.
********************
Anna was sprawled across one of the window seats in the Ravenclaw common room, a thick Astronomy textbook balanced on her knees. Her brown hair was twisted up in a messy bun, quill poking out of it like a forgotten pin. The room was quieter than Gryffindor’s, lit mostly by the blue-white glow of the moon and the ever-shifting constellations painted on the enchanted ceiling above.
And unfortunately, Luna Lovegood was in the room.
Anna groaned audibly when Luna skipped past her, humming something off-key and trailing what appeared to be green socks from her robe sleeves.
“You’ve got socks hanging out of your sleeves again, Loony,” Anna called.
Luna turned with a serene smile. “I’m feeding them to the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks later. They like wool.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Right. Naturally. Because wool is the official diet of imaginary horned rodents.”
“They’re not rodents,” Luna said airily. “More like goat-weasel hybrids.”
Anna stared at her for a second, quill frozen over her chart. Then she muttered, “I have questions, and I hate that I do .”
Luna wandered off to a far corner of the common room, where she appeared to be organizing pebbles on the floor by shape. Anna watched her for a moment - Luna muttering to herself and turning each stone over like it held some secret answer.
Anna sighed.
It had been easy, back in first and second year, to call her Loony and laugh with the others. But now, five years into Hogwarts, it was harder to not feel something else - guilt, maybe. Or irritation at herself.
Because the weirdest part?
She didn’t even really dislike Luna anymore.
Luna was bizarre. Absolutely unhinged. In need of serious help. But... she wasn’t cruel. She didn’t hex people or spread gossip or act fake around professors. She just existed in her own orbit, absolutely unaffected by what anyone else thought of her.
That was either enviable or terrifying.
Anna wasn’t sure which.
“I’m going to ask you something,” she said suddenly, closing her textbook.
Luna looked up.
“Do you actually believe half the stuff you talk about?”
Luna tilted her head. “That depends. Do you believe in the things no one’s proven yet?”
Anna blinked. “That’s... not an answer.”
Luna just smiled. “That’s because it’s not a simple question.”
Anna stared at her, then shook her head. “You’re so weird.”
“Thank you,” Luna said sincerely.
Anna turned back to her book. But after a moment, she found herself smirking.
She’d called her weird.
But she hadn’t called her Loony.
********************
It started the day after the party, in the common room.
Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through Chocolate Frog cards (he kept them in a neatly organized tin now, thanks to Ariel's influence), when Ron flopped down next to him and said - too casually - "So… you and Ariel’ve been hanging out a lot lately.”
Harry paused mid-card-sorting. “Yeah?”
Ron cleared his throat. “Not that it’s weird. I mean, we all hang out. She’s just… y’know. Around a lot.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s because she’s our friend.”
“Right! Right,” Ron said quickly. “Just… seems like you two have a thing .”
Harry blinked. “A thing?”
“Not like a thing-thing!” Ron waved his hands. “Just. A vibe . You talk a lot.”
“Because we’re friends.”
“Exactly,” Ron said, a little too brightly. Then added under his breath, “Just... more now.”
Harry smiled faintly. “You worried I’m replacing you, mate?”
Ron snorted. “I’d like to see anyone beat me at wizard’s chess. Ariel can’t even make a pawn move straight.”
“True,” Harry said, grinning. “She did try to make one sit on the queen last game.”
Ron laughed despite himself. “She’s totally mad.”
Harry nodded, eyes drifting toward the fire. “Yeah. I like that about her.”
********************
It was a quiet Saturday, crisp and clear, the kind of night made for stargazing.
Ariel had dragged Harry up to the Astronomy Tower again, this time with an armful of parchment, two sets of star charts, and a very large thermos of hot chocolate. They worked in companionable silence at first, the kind that didn’t need filling. Harry sketched out the constellation lines while Ariel corrected his angles.
“Bet you didn’t know this one’s called the Spider’s Kiss,” she said, pointing with a biscuit.
Harry squinted. “That’s a real constellation?”
She grinned. “No. I made it up. But admit it - it fits.”
He laughed. “It kinda does.”
They talked about the stars, then the Triwizard Tournament, then things that had nothing to do with anything - favorite spells, worst Bertie Bott’s flavors, stories about Ariel’s dad, and Quidditch matches Harry couldn’t remember.
At some point, Ariel yawned and leaned her head gently against his shoulder.
Harry stilled.
Within minutes, she was asleep. Her breathing deep and steady. Her curls fell over his shoulder in soft, wild spirals that caught the golden candlelight in every strand. He’d never noticed how brown her hair was in the dark—but under the starlight, it shimmered with streaks of bronze and copper.
Her eyes - when they were open - weren’t just honey brown like she always said. They had green flecks in them. Forest green. Like leaves after rain.
He smiled to himself.
Then leaned a little to nudge her awake. “Oi. Sleeping Beauty. You’re drooling on my robes.”
Ariel snorted herself awake and smacked his arm. “I do not drool! ”
“There’s a puddle.”
“Is not!”
“Is, and I’m preserving it for magical research.”
She laughed sleepily, eyes still half closed. “You’re an idiot.”
He didn’t say it, but he thought, only when you’re around.
********************
They’d been playing Exploding Snap in the common room on a rainy Thursday when it happened.
Ariel slammed down her last card. “BOOM!”
And boom it did.
A loud pop! echoed through the common room and a flash of light singed the air. When the smoke cleared, Harry was frozen mid-shriek.
“MY EYEBROWS!”
They were gone.
Ariel collapsed into hysterical laughter. “Oh my Merlin ! You look like a naked mole rat!”
“I am permanently disfigured !” Harry yelled, snatching a pillow to cover his face. “You’re taking me to the Hospital Wing.”
“Why do I have to go?”
“Because you maimed me , Ariel! You deserve to witness the full extent of your crimes.”
She wiped tears from her eyes. “This is better than any Chocolate Frog card.”
He pointed dramatically at the portrait hole. “Go. March. I need medical attention and an audience.”
They left the common room with Harry holding his head high and Ariel giggling the whole way.
********************
In the library, Luna had brought an entire stack of books about magical creatures - none of which Madam Pince recognized.
Ginny was trying to read Witch Weekly , but Ariel kept reading the horoscopes aloud in a ridiculous dramatic voice.
“ Scorpio - someone will betray you today. It might be your cat. Be suspicious of all animals. ”
Ginny snorted. “What do the stars say for Sagittarius?”
Ariel turned a page. “ Sagittarius - someone will insult your hair. Punch them. ”
Luna tilted her head. “That seems a bit aggressive.”
Ariel winked. “Don’t mess with fate.”
********************
They all met in the courtyard on a Sunday - Ron and Harry tossing a Quaffle between them while Ginny coached, Ariel and Hermione lying on the grass making star patterns in the sky with wands.
Luna showed up with a jar of beetles and a long speech about their connection to planetary magic. Ariel pretended to translate it, narrating in a fake professor voice while everyone collapsed into laughter.
Later, they visited Hagrid, who gave Ariel a bowtruckle named Clive as a “good luck companion.” She immediately trained it to sit on Harry’s head during dinner.
“It adds to your charm,” she told him.
“You’re lucky I like you,” Harry muttered, flicking Clive off his ear.
********************
Anna was in a bad mood. Her Transfiguration essay had come back with a giant red “Acceptable” circled at the top - McGonagall’s polite way of saying you’re better than this - and her headache was not being helped by the strange humming coming from behind her chair.
She turned slowly.
“Lovegood,” she said flatly.
Luna didn’t look up. She was sitting on the floor with an open copy of The Quibbler , sticking long, feathered bookmarks between pages at random.
“You’re humming the sound of a Blibbering Humdinger mating call again, aren’t you?”
Luna looked up dreamily. “No. That’s the sound of a Honking Daffodil in distress.”
Anna blinked. “Right. Of course.”
Luna tilted her head. “You’re stressed.”
“No. I’m fine. I’m just surrounded by nonsense.”
“You should hum with me,” Luna said serenely. “It realigns the brainwaves.”
Anna opened her mouth to snap, then stopped.
Because something about the way Luna was looking at her wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t even odd. It was just calm. Genuine. Present.
Anna sighed and muttered, “Fine. But if I start attracting sentient plants, it’s on you .”
Luna beamed.
********************
Saturday came with a soft snowfall. Ariel met Harry at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower wearing two scarves, both stolen from Hermione.
“Planning to survive the next ice age?” Harry teased as they ascended the stairs.
“Shut up. I’m a delicate flower.”
He laughed, nudging her with his shoulder. “You hexed someone in the hallway yesterday for calling you ‘birdy.’”
“A delicate flower with rage issues,” she corrected.
They set up under the stars again, parchment spread out, cocoa between them, a little candle to keep their hands warm. Ariel’s sketchbook sat beside her - her sapphire blue one from Hogsmeade. Harry had already seen a few doodles. A niffler. Ron’s socks. A portrait of Luna riding a Thestral made entirely of sparkles.
But tonight, she didn’t draw right away.
They talked. About anything. About everything.
And slowly, Ariel leaned against Harry’s side. Her eyes grew heavier with every passing minute, until finally, she fell asleep.
Her cheek pressed lightly to his shoulder. Her curls spilled across his robe and glowed in the candlelight like fire-warmed bronze. Her face was relaxed, softened in a way Harry didn’t often see - because Ariel was always animated, always laughing or shouting or fighting the world.
He studied her for a moment, then whispered, “You know… your hair looks like sunlight in winter.”
She didn’t stir.
“And your eyes…” he said quietly, “they’ve got those little green flecks in your iris. I didn’t notice before. They kind of glow.”
Still nothing.
He smiled and elbowed her. “And you snore.”
Ariel snorted awake. “ Do not .”
“Right. You delicately purr like a stampeding Hippogriff.”
She hit him in the ribs, still half-asleep, grinning. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
She didn’t answer. Just tucked her head back onto his shoulder.
********************
Later that week, Ariel curled in her usual armchair by the fire, sketchbook in her lap. Her wand rested nearby, unused. This was all hand-drawn - quiet and personal.
On one page, Ginny and Luna, lying in the grass near the lake, Luna tossing dandelions into the wind while Ginny laughed with her eyes closed.
Next, Hermione and Ron in the library. Ron was asleep on a pile of books, Hermione’s quill midair, her mouth open mid-scold.
Then, Clive the Bowtruckle sitting atop Harry’s head, looking smug. Ariel had written, the real champion in tiny letters above it.
More sketches filled the pages-
Harry, holding a Snitch gently in one hand, eyes focused.
Harry, upside-down on a couch, reading a book with absolute confusion.
Harry laughing, eyes scrunched, completely unguarded.
Each one was soft. Unpolished. Real.
Harry found her sketchbook by accident a few days later - left open on the table next to her cocoa mug.
He stared at the drawing of himself laughing.
Then turned the page and found a half-finished portrait of the two of them under the stars.
He didn’t say anything. He just smiled.
********************
Saturday afternoons were theirs.
They’d go down to the lake, barefoot even in the cold, sitting with their feet in the water yelling things like “Witches don’t get frostbite!” and daring each other to hold still the longest.
Luna would collect river stones and hum lullabies to them.
Ariel would braid flowers into Ginny’s hair and Ginny would retaliate by shoving her in the lake.
They were loud. They were wild. And they were happy .
********************
In the Great Hall, they gathered at the end of the Gryffindor table, all six crammed onto one bench meant for four.
Hermione tried to keep everyone’s homework organized.
Ron threw peas at Harry, who used his fork like a shield.
Ariel shared her pumpkin pasties with Luna, and Luna offered her a shiny beetle in return, which Ariel accepted solemnly and pinned to her cloak.
After dinner, they trekked to Hagrid’s.
He greeted them with huge mugs of something steaming and strong-smelling, and a new baby Blast-Ended Skrewt named Norberta Junior.
“Absolutely not again,” Ron said immediately.
But Ariel was already holding it.
“She’s adorable!” Ariel cried.
“She’s sparking.”
“She’s alive , Ron! Be grateful!”
They stayed until moonrise, stories shared between them, fire crackling, stars above.
Together, they were a mismatched, magical little family.
********************
The Gryffindor common room was warm and loud, with the fire cracking in the hearth and the portrait hole constantly swinging as students moved in and out. But in the corner - away from the noise - a serious battle was underway.
“Knight to E5!” Harry announced, leaning forward dramatically.
His knight stumbled three squares and knocked over one of his own pawns.
Ariel squinted at the board. “I don’t think he was supposed to do that.”
Ron slapped his forehead. “ Harry! You just sacrificed your own piece!”
“It was in the way!” Harry said defensively.
“Strategy,” Ariel muttered. “Such a foreign concept.”
She moved a bishop across the board and grinned. “Check.”
Hermione leaned forward, alarmed. “No! That’s not - Ariel, that puts you in direct line with his rook!”
Ariel blinked. “Wait. What’s a rook again?”
Ron looked like he was going to pass out.
Hermione grabbed her quill and started drawing diagrams in midair with it. “This is the rook. It moves in straight lines. That - that thing you just did - makes no sense.”
Ariel shrugged. “Chaos is a strategy.”
“No, it isn’t!” Ron and Hermione said in unison.
Harry reached for a pawn and looked thoughtful.
Ariel leaned over and whispered, “If you make it moonwalk again, I’ll lose my mind.”
“You said chaos was a strategy.”
“I meant mine!”
Harry moved the pawn. It did, in fact, moonwalk. Right into a trap.
Ron let out a wail. “ You’re killing me! ”
Hermione shouted, “That’s it! I’m writing a pamphlet on basic chess theory!”
Despite the groaning, the yelling, the nonsensical moves, and Ariel’s continued attempts to give her pieces catchphrases (“Go, Queenie! DIE POTTER!”), laughter echoed across the room.
They didn’t finish the game.
They never did.
But Ariel leaned her head on the edge of the couch next to Harry and smiled.
“I like this.”
Harry nodded, grinning. “Even when we’re terrible?”
“ Especially then.”
********************
The next week, the library was oddly quiet - even for Hogwarts.
Madam Pince had threatened to hex anyone who so much as sniffled, and Anna was curled in a corner, furiously scribbling Arithmancy equations and muttering under her breath.
She looked up only because someone dropped their quill.
Ariel.
She’d taken the armchair across from Anna without a word, her hair in its usual untamed state, one leg hooked over the arm of the chair like she owned the entire library. She pulled out her navy blue sketchbook and started to draw, chewing on the end of a sugar quill as she worked.
Anna went back to her notes.
Sort of.
Because she couldn’t help but glance up every so often.
The way Ariel drew was odd - confident and wild, lines swooping like she didn’t second-guess them. She turned the page once. Then again.
And Anna caught a glimpse of something.
Luna.
Drawn in soft pencil lines, barefoot on the grass, her eyes closed, flowers tucked behind one ear, her hands out like she was listening to music no one else could hear.
The sketch wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t exaggerated or cartoonish.
It was… peaceful . Beautiful, even.
Anna stared a little too long.
Ariel noticed.
“Oh - sorry,” she said quickly, flipping the page. “Didn’t mean to be distracting.”
Anna blinked. “That was Luna, wasn’t it?”
Ariel hesitated. “Yeah.”
“You draw everyone like that?”
Ariel shrugged. “Not if they’re jerks.”
Anna stared at the closed sketchbook.
Something prickled in her chest. Quiet and strange.
Because Luna didn’t look like a joke in that sketch. She looked like someone magical.
Anna glanced down at her Arithmancy notes.
Then, not looking up, she muttered, “Her hair’s hard to draw, isn’t it?”
Ariel smiled slowly.
“Like trying to sketch fog,” she whispered.
For once, Anna didn’t have a sarcastic reply.
She just kept writing.
Notes:
did i do too many happy fun scenes?
yes.did i also make ariel sleep on harry's shoulder more than once??
yes.
dont worry, all the tension and drama will come back soon!!!
Chapter 13: Chapter 13
Notes:
TW: slight mentions of vomiting in the flashback. Starts with "Her father was dying" and ends with "Not ever." The flashback isn't relevent to the plot, so anyone with emetophobia should just skip if they're uncomfortable with the idea of reading it.
~~~~~~
right so watch out. its 12,000 words long.
but it's SO worth it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The castle was silent.
Only the faint gusts of wind against the tall windows broke the stillness, the snowstorm outside swirling white and wild against the black night. Inside the enchanted warmth of the Hospital Wing, one bed was sealed off by shimmering golden containment charms, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
And in it, Ariel was breaking.
Her back arched violently as her body twisted against itself, drenched in sweat. Her fingers curled like claws - bones lengthening and snapping, then pulling back again as if the magic inside her couldn’t decide what shape it wanted her to be.
It was her fifth full moon.
She remembered all of them.
Her screams had become quieter now. Not softer - just more controlled. She gritted her teeth through the agony, one fist locked around the bedsheets, the other biting into the mattress. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.
“I’ve got you,” murmured Madam Pomfrey, her wand dancing over Ariel’s limbs with quick, precise spells. “It’ll pass soon. You’re safe. You’re strong.”
It wasn’t comforting.
Ariel didn’t feel strong.
She felt like fire trapped in a human body - hot, fractured, burning from the inside out. And still, she held on. Still, she fought it back.
The Wolfsbane potion didn’t stop the transformation - not for her. It just stopped her from turning all the way . She never became the monster completely. Just... part of one. Enough to lose her breath and half her blood, but never her mind.
Her jaw ached as her teeth lengthened again, only to recede painfully. Her ribs strained against her skin. Her magic flickered and screamed beneath it all, pulsing with every throb of pain.
This was routine now.
But it never stopped hurting.
She hadn’t slept. Not in hours. And the worst part?
She still remembered everything .
********************
Her father was dying.
That was the first thing.
The second thing was the full moon rising just outside the flat’s smudged window, casting long slashes of light across the threadbare carpet of their small London home.
Ariel had been sitting on the floor with a bowl of half-mashed soup in one hand and a wet cloth in the other. Her father - pale, thin, and shaking - was lying on the couch, coughing blood into a handkerchief.
“Go to bed,” he rasped.
“I will,” Ariel had said. “Soon.”
But she didn’t.
Because she’d already begun to feel it. That heat in her veins. That wrongness under her skin. Her nails had started to itch. Her magic had gone wild hours earlier, snapping and sparking from the seams of her sleeves. She tried to act like she was fine. She always did.
But when he finally fell asleep, too weak to even sit up, Ariel had run to the bathroom and locked the door behind her with trembling hands.
She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even make a sound. She’d shoved an old flannel towel between her teeth and crouched on the floor, arms wrapped around herself as her body broke.
There was no Wolfsbane potion. No hospital. No containment charms. No healer. Just her, the tiled floor, and the pain.
The first time was the worst.
Her spine had snapped - she remembered the sound. The crack as her legs bent backward, then forward again. Her fingers bled as the claws began to form but never finished. Her skin had torn where her ribs tried to expand to contain a chest that wasn’t fully transforming.
She convulsed on the bathroom floor for hours.
Biting down on her towel. Sweating through her clothes. Crying so hard she couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t pass out. She wished she had.
At one point, she bashed her shoulder against the toilet bowl so hard she thought she’d dislocated it. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t risk waking him.
When the sun finally rose, Ariel lay there, barely conscious, skin mottled with bruises, eyes dry from crying.
She washed her hands. Cleaned the blood from the sink. Put tea on the stove. And when her father woke, she smiled like nothing had happened. Like it was an ordinary August day. An ordinary day for a new moon.
She never told him.
Not once.
Not ever.
********************
Now, months later, under Madam Pomfrey’s care, Ariel still shook as the transformation passed - muscles twitching in the aftermath.
She gasped for breath.
The bed was soaked with sweat. Her hands were human again, though her nails still had a faint, unnatural sheen to them. Her magic - always too big, too unstable after a full moon - crackled faintly at her fingertips.
Madam Pomfrey didn’t speak. She just wrapped her in blankets, applied salve to the places that burned, and gently placed a glass of warm broth into her trembling hands.
“I’ll give you a day,” Pomfrey said softly. “No classes. Just rest.”
Ariel sipped slowly. “Thank you.”
Before sunrise, she was asleep. And when she woke again, the sky outside had turned pale with winter light, and a single rose lay on the table beside her pillow.
No note.
Just a flower.
She held it in her hand and smiled faintly.
Harry Potter.
Every month. Without fail.
He never said anything. He never made it weird.
But he never forgot.
********************
The snowstorm had eased outside, but flakes still drifted lazily past the tall windows of the Hospital Wing, catching in the glow of the torches. The ward was quiet now. Madam Pomfrey had finally gone off to her quarters, leaving behind a cup of steaming chamomile tea and strict instructions for “no visitors.”
Which Harry had, of course, ignored.
He was already inside, leaning back in the armchair beside Ariel’s bed, his feet pulled up onto the seat and a tattered book of Quidditch plays balanced on his lap. His glasses had slid down his nose, and a bar of Honeydukes chocolate sat untouched on the table.
Ariel, half-sitting up against her pillows, stared at him for a long moment before speaking.
“You’re getting worse at sneaking in.”
Harry glanced up, startled, then smiled crookedly. “I didn’t sneak. I just walked in.”
“You rebel,” she said with a faint grin, voice scratchy but amused.
He nodded at the tea. “You’ve barely touched it.”
“Tastes like tree bark.”
“Yeah, she gave me that once after a nasty fall off my broom. Claimed it was ‘restorative.’ I think she meant ‘punishment.’”
Ariel chuckled, a low sound that made her wince slightly. Her muscles still ached in places she didn’t know could ache. “This one wasn’t as bad,” she admitted quietly, eyes trailing to the soft shimmer of the golden healing charms around her bed. “I only threw up twice instead of four times. Progress.”
Harry looked down at his book but wasn’t reading.
“I hate seeing you like this,” he said finally, voice low.
She glanced at him, surprised by the softness in his tone.
“I mean… you act like it’s no big deal,” he went on, pushing his glasses up. “You joke, you come back laughing like nothing happened. But I saw what happened in the Shrieking Shack, Ariel. I saw what Lupin did. What you went through. And now it’s like…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Like you’re carrying it all by yourself.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then slowly pulled her knees up under the blankets.
“I have to,” she said. “My dad’s sick. Has been since second year. There’s no one else. If I break down, there’s no one to pick me up.”
Harry said nothing. He didn’t need to.
They both knew what that felt like.
Ariel picked at the edge of her blanket. “The first time it happened - the full moon in August - I didn’t have any potions. I was at home. He was too ill to know. I locked myself in the bathroom. Didn’t even scream. Just... let it happen.”
She didn’t realize she was shaking until Harry reached out and rested a hand gently over hers.
His palm was warm. Solid.
Comforting.
“I couldn’t even go to the hospital,” she whispered. “He was throwing up blood in the next room. I made him tea in the morning like nothing happened.”
Harry didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at her the way he always did when she let the bravado fall - with quiet, unwavering attention.
Then, finally: “You shouldn’t have to carry all of it.”
Ariel blinked hard. Swallowed.
“You’re an idiot,” she said, voice wavering. “But you’re a good one.”
He smiled again, and it twisted something unfamiliar in her chest.
Neither of them moved to break the silence. The snow outside tapped softly against the windows, and the golden candlelight flickered on the white hospital sheets.
After a while, Harry stood up.
“I’ll come by tomorrow morning,” he said. “Breakfast?”
Ariel leaned her head back on the pillow. “If you bring coffee. And don’t let Ron eat all the toast again.”
He gave a mock-salute and turned to go, but paused at the door.
“You’re brave, Ariel,” he said without looking back. “Not because of this. But because you still laugh.”
Then he left.
And for the first time in a long while, Ariel let herself cry.
********************
It had started snowing again. Fat, fluffy flakes floated down through the grey sky and melted into the shoulders of students’ cloaks as they trudged up from the greenhouses. The frost clung to scarves and eyelashes, but the chill in the air was warm with excitement - the Yule Ball was just three weeks away, and it had taken over every hallway conversation at Hogwarts.
Ginny walked beside Ariel, her hands shoved deep into her sleeves and her boots squeaking on the frozen grass.
“You’ve been quiet,” Ariel said, eyeing her.
Ginny turned pink instantly. “No, I haven’t.”
Ariel grinned. “You have. Which means something happened. Out with it.”
They were nearly back to the castle when Neville jogged up behind them, cheeks red and a puff of mist rising from his breath.
“Ginny! Wait - can I talk to you?”
Ariel raised her brows. “I’ll catch up with you in the Entrance Hall,” she said, and winked at Ginny before strolling away.
Ginny turned around slowly. “Hey, Neville.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I, um... I’ve been meaning to say something. Or ask. Or-well, say and ask.”
She smiled softly, folding her arms. “Alright.”
“I was wondering...” Neville swallowed, suddenly very interested in the snow at his feet. “If you wanted to go to the Yule Ball. With me. As my date. Not just as friends. Unless that’s what you want, which is fine-”
“Neville,” Ginny interrupted, her voice warm and amused. “I’d love to go with you.”
His eyes lit up like Christmas.
“Really?!”
She nodded. “But no telling Ron. Yet.”
He nodded frantically. “Right! Secret. Got it.”
She reached out and squeezed his arm before walking toward the castle, a little extra bounce in her step. Behind her, Neville looked like he might float off the ground from sheer joy.
A few moments later, Ginny caught up with Ariel, who was leaning against the doorframe of the Entrance Hall, grinning.
“I KNEW it,” Ariel declared loudly.
“Shut up,” Ginny muttered, beaming.
********************
The fire in the Gryffindor Common Room crackled merrily, illuminating the stone walls with a golden glow. Students lounged in clusters - some playing Exploding Snap, others flipping through dress catalogues charmed to show full 360-degree views of dress robes. Talk of the Yule Ball filled the air like a spell no one could shake off.
Ariel sat on the floor near the fireplace, her legs stretched out under a cushion, Ginny beside her flipping through Witch Weekly’s “Yule Ball Dream Looks” feature. Ron was pacing.
Which meant something was about to go terribly, terribly wrong.
Harry, sitting in one of the squishy armchairs, looked up from his Defense essay. “Are you okay, Ron?”
Ron looked like someone had just asked him to duel a dragon. “No. I’m not okay. I’m about to do something brave .”
“Oh Merlin,” Ariel muttered. “He’s going to ask someone.”
Ron whirled. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“It means,” Ariel said with a wicked grin, “that I hope you’ve rehearsed whatever excuse you’re going to use after getting rejected.”
Ginny tried - and failed - to hide her snort.
Ron straightened his jumper and ran a hand through his hair, which only made it fluffier.
“I’ve thought about this carefully,” he said with unnecessary seriousness. “Hannah Abbott is nice, polite, and doesn’t seem to hate me. That’s enough for a solid romantic foundation, right?”
Harry blinked. “Is that really your approach?”
“Yes. Don’t judge me, you’re just going with Cho in your dreams.”
“I am not .”
Ron ignored him, squared his shoulders, and marched toward the portrait hole like he was going to war.
********************
Ariel, Ginny, and Harry followed him - at a distance - peeking around the edge of a statue. Across the hall, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were chatting by the bulletin board.
“This is going to be spectacular,” Ariel whispered, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
They watched as Ron approached Hannah, clearly saying something nervously. She tilted her head. He rubbed the back of his neck. She blinked. He gestured vaguely in the air - possibly referencing dancing, or possibly just panicking.
Then she smiled.
For a second, Ariel thought it had worked.
And then: Hannah gave a small laugh, patted him gently on the arm, said something that looked like, “I’m really flattered,” and turned to walk away with Susan.
Ron turned back toward them, face scarlet, and marched past like a thundercloud.
“I hate everything ,” he said through gritted teeth.
“No worries, Ron,” Ariel chirped. “You’ve still got your charming personality to fall back on.”
Ron flipped her off without looking back.
********************
The library was nearly empty that evening, cloaked in a hush so profound even the floating candles seemed to dim in respect. Most students were still chattering about Yule Ball rumors in the common rooms, but Hermione had wedged herself into a corner table surrounded by towers of books, parchment rolls, and a very intense study schedule.
Her quill scratched steadily over her Arithmancy notes.
She didn’t notice the tall figure standing awkwardly between the Charms section and the edge of her table until he cleared his throat.
Twice.
Hermione looked up and blinked.
“…Oh,” she said. “Er-hello.”
Viktor Krum gave a short, nodding sort of bow, his expression unreadable under his thick eyebrows. “Hermy-own-ninny.”
She flushed instantly. “Hermione.”
He tried again. “Her-my-oh-ninny.”
She gave a half-smile. “Close enough.”
There was a long pause. He looked at the table, then at her book, then at the quill, as if unsure what part to address first.
Finally, he said, “I vas vondering… if you vould like to attend the ball. Vith me.”
Hermione stared.
“I-oh,” she said, her voice rising a little in surprise. “Really? You want to go with me?”
He nodded.
She hesitated only a moment.
“…Yes. Yes, I’d like that.”
Krum nodded again, still awkward but visibly relieved. “Good. I pick you up in the Entrance Hall. Eight o’clock.”
And then he turned and left, nearly knocking over a small bookshelf of books on advanced wand theory as he did.
Hermione sat perfectly still for a moment.
Then smiled.
********************
Stephanie Baker was going to do it.
No second guesses. No fear. No nerves. No-
“Oh Merlin, what if he says no and then spontaneously combusts just to avoid me?”
“Steph,” said her best friend Miriam flatly from behind a Charms textbook, “if anyone spontaneously combusts, it’ll be you .”
“Fair point,” Stephanie muttered, jabbing her wand into the air and watching as her enchanted hair ribbon changed from electric blue to violent green . “Too nervous for blue. Green’s brave, right? Or is that red? I DON’T KNOW HOUSE COLORS ANYMORE.”
Miriam sighed.
Stephanie was many things: loud, dramatic, Ravenclaw (somehow), and absolutely terrible at subtlety. She was also, at this exact moment, determined to ask Ron to the Yule Ball.
Not because she was obsessed with him. (She wasn't .)
Not because she was desperate. (She really wasn't .)
But because she’d overheard his tragic rejection from Hannah Abbott and thought: That boy needs saving from himself.
And because he was kind of... cute when he pouted.
********************
Stephanie spotted him.
Alone. Probably brooding. Definitely red-eared.
Perfect.
She sprang in front of him dramatically like a cursed protagonist in a third-year play. “Ronald Bilius Weasley!”
He jumped so hard he dropped his bag. “Wha-what-why are you shouting?!”
“Because I am a beacon of bravery and ridiculous timing,” Stephanie declared. “And I have a question. A noble, courageous, BALL-related question.”
Ron looked like he wasn’t sure if he should run or call for help.
“Okay…?”
She sucked in a breath and said, “Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”
He blinked. Then blinked again.
“Is this a dare?”
Stephanie snorted. “No! But I dare you to say yes.”
His mouth opened. Then closed. He looked dazed. “I mean-er-are you serious?”
She did a very dramatic bow. “Deadly.”
Ron stood frozen for a moment longer. Then blurted, “Yeah. Alright. Why not.”
Stephanie gasped like she’d won a national award. “I KNEW you were secretly a romantic!”
“I’m not,” he muttered.
“You are. You’re just buried under a metric ton of awkward.”
“Don’t tell anyone I said yes.”
“I’m telling everyone .”
“No-Stephanie-!”
But it was too late. She was already running down the hall, arms flailing, shouting, “I HAVE A DATE! I HAVE A DATE! AND HE HAS FRECKLES! ”
Ron stared after her, then groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
“I regret everything.”
********************
Ariel was halfway upside down on the Gryffindor common room couch, her head dangling over the edge while her legs stuck straight up against the back cushions. It was her favorite reading position - something between “chaotic child” and “bored gargoyle.”
Harry was sitting across from her, fidgeting.
Not reading. Not talking.
Just... fidgeting.
This, in Ariel’s experience, was the universal sign of “Harry is about to emotionally combust and doesn’t know how to start the sentence.”
She flipped the page of Magical Mishaps of the Twelfth Century without looking up. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m not being weird,” Harry said immediately, absolutely being weird.
She peeked at him from under her fringe. “You’ve tied and untied your shoelaces three times.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About your shoes?”
“No!”
“You can talk to me, you know,” she said, stretching her arms until her fingers brushed the floor. “Unless this is another one of your internal monologues where you wrestle with something for an hour, then walk away dramatically without telling anyone.”
Harry flushed. “I do not do that.”
“You literally did that after the boy’s showers got flooded.”
“That was one time.”
Ariel flipped herself upright and crossed her legs. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s chewing up your brain?”
He ran a hand through his hair, then stopped, realized it was already messy, and made it worse by trying to fix it.
Which was so endearingly Harry that Ariel had to press her lips together to stop from laughing.
“So… the Yule Ball is coming up,” he said finally, eyes locked on the fireplace like it held the secrets of the universe.
“Oh no,” she whispered dramatically, clutching her heart. “ The plot thickens. ”
Harry gave her a dry look. “I’m trying to be serious.”
“I know,” she said, smiling. “That’s why it’s funny.”
He stood up, paced a full loop around the couch, then spun back around. “Right, okay. So. Would you - I mean, I was wondering if maybe - hypothetically , of course - if no one had asked you, would you…?”
Ariel raised an eyebrow. “Harry.”
“What?”
“Are you trying to ask me to the Yule Ball, or to participate in an experimental Potions accident?”
He paused. Thought about it. Then:
“…Yes?”
She burst out laughing.
Not a giggle - a full, head-thrown-back cackle that made a second-year trip on his way up the stairs.
Harry turned red immediately. “Okay, okay, forget it-”
“No, no, no!” she said, grabbing his sleeve and wheezing. “Wait! I’m sorry! I just- that was how you decided to ask me?”
He groaned. “I panicked!”
“Clearly,” she snorted.
He tried to turn away again, but she tugged him back. “Hey. For the record…”
She grinned.
“I’d love to go with you.”
He blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “You’re an idiot, but you’re my kind of idiot.”
Harry relaxed a little - then laughed under his breath. “You’re not exactly smooth yourself, you know.”
“I once fell down a moving staircase and landed face-first into Peeves,” she reminded him. “Smoothness is not in my bloodline.”
They stood there, a little awkward, both smiling like the dorks they were.
Then Ariel nudged him. “So... do I get to tell everyone dramatically like Stephanie Baker did?”
Harry paled. “No.”
She smirked. “Too late.”
********************
The cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed in snow, charming and quiet - until six girls barreled out of Honeydukes like a stampede of magical chaos.
“I swear,” Ariel said through a mouthful of Fizzing Whizzbees, “if anyone buys a dress before I find mine , I will hex someone’s kneecaps.”
“I feel threatened,” said Hermione calmly, holding a sugar quill.
“That’s because you are ,” Ariel grinned.
“Hey, save some hexes for me!” fake-whined Stephanie, a toothy grin taking over her face.
Luna skipped ahead, trailing glitter behind her (literally - she had enchanted her scarf with stardust). “There’s a shop I read about in Witchward Weekly ! It opened this summer - they sell dresses that respond to your mood ! Isn’t that wonderfully chaotic ?”
“Oh no,” Anna muttered from behind them, arms folded. “You’re going to make me wear sparkles, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said everyone at once.
********************
The shop glowed with enchantments the moment they stepped inside. Dresses floated midair on invisible mannequins, shimmering and swirling like liquid fabric. Racks spun in slow circles, showing off color-changing hems, lace that grew into blooming flowers, and shoes that danced when music played.
“Oh,” Hermione breathed, her eyes going wide. “It’s… kind of perfect.”
“Welcome, ladies!” sang Madam Celestine herself - a tall witch with a towering beehive hairdo and a dramatic violet cloak that billowed even with no wind. “Looking for looks to destroy hearts or defy society ?”
“Both,” said Stephanie with a toothy grin.
“Right this way!”
********************
Hermione found her dress first - a soft, elegant periwinkle gown that shimmered slightly as she moved. “It’s not flashy,” she said, smoothing the skirts, “but it feels... like me.”
“Also you look hot,” said Ginny bluntly.
Hermione blushed to her ears.
Ginny chose a forest green dress embroidered with tiny, fluttering blue butterflies that blinked in and out of sight. “This is the one,” she declared, twirling. “I look like I could murder a man and then marry him.”
“I’d marry you,” said Stephanie.
“Thanks, babe.”
Luna’s dress was absolute chaos - a pastel pink masterpiece covered in yellow suns, soft clouds, and actual glitter drifting off the hem like mist. “I love it,” she sighed dreamily. “It’s like I’m wearing a happy memory.”
“You’re a walking sunrise,” Ariel said, pretending to sob. “I love you.”
Stephanie, naturally, went for drama: her dress was a neon teal with chaotic black pinstripes and glow-in-the-dark hems. “I want to look like a cross between a disco ball and a peacock who lost a fight.”
“You succeeded,” said Anna.
“Thank you.”
********************
Ariel had tried on four dresses, all of which had either nearly exploded with sequins or didn’t survive her jumping test.
“I need something I can dance in and fight a minor duel in,” she groaned.
“Try this,” said Madam Celestine, summoning a deep navy-blue gown with a low back, a swish like water, and sleeves that shimmered like constellations.
Ariel stepped out in it. The entire shop went quiet.
“Okay but WHY do you look like the moon’s favorite daughter,” Ginny whispered.
Ariel blinked at her reflection, then smiled.
“This is it.”
Meanwhile, Anna stood like she might catch fire at any moment.
She was wearing a simple black gothic dress with corset lacing, sheer sleeves, and a hem that flared like smoke. Paired with chunky, stomping black boots, she looked like a sarcastic fairytale villain.
“I’m not doing glitter,” she warned.
“No glitter,” Luna promised sweetly.
“But you are doing eyeliner,” said Stephanie, brandishing a wand. “And I’m doing your hair. Resistance is futile.”
Anna rolled her eyes - but didn’t move.
********************
They exited the boutique two hours later, arms full of boxes, robes, and enchanted accessories that tried to flirt with passing wizards.
“Do you think,” Ariel said, “we could get ready together?”
“In Hermione’s dorm,” Luna nodded, linking arms with Anna. “I already have a plan.”
Anna groaned. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve glitter.”
“No promises,” chirped Stephanie.
********************
It was the perfect kind of winter afternoon: clear skies, crisp air, and thick snow blanketing the lawns like icing on a giant Hogwarts-shaped cake.
Naturally, it all went to hell the second Ron pelted Ginny in the back of the head with a snowball.
“RON!” Ginny shrieked, whirling around with fury in her eyes and snow melting down her collar.
“Target acquired!” Ariel yelled, already diving behind a bush with a handful of snowballs.
Within seconds, it was full-on war.
Snowballs flew in all directions, charmed ones zipping with heat-seeking accuracy. Harry and Ron built a pitiful fort that Hermione and Luna immediately dismantled with teamwork and terrifying precision.
Ariel was a blur - zigzagging through flurries, tripping over her own scarf, and laughing so hard she nearly inhaled snow. Ginny had commandeered a Slytherin’s hat as a battle flag. Luna was singing about frost nargles.
Everything was going perfectly... until Ron got suspicious.
He ducked behind a tree and wiped slush from his face. “Oi, Hermione. You still haven’t told us who your date is.”
Hermione froze mid-throw. “Excuse me?”
“To the ball,” Ron insisted, squinting at her. “You’ve got one, don’t you? Everyone’s talking about it. You’re all smug.”
“I’m not smug,” she said coolly, brushing snow off her gloves.
“You are,” Harry added, grinning from behind Ariel. “And you won’t stop smiling. That’s suspicious behavior.”
“Highly suspicious,” Ariel chimed in, squinting dramatically at Hermione. “Like you’ve won the lottery or... landed a Triwizard Champion.”
Hermione turned scarlet.
“AH-HA!” Ron shouted. “So it is someone famous!”
Hermione grabbed a snowball and hurled it directly at his face.
********************
“Come on ,” Ron pleaded. “Just tell me. I’m your brother. Your own blood !”
“You’re nosy,” Ginny snapped, building a snowball with more force than strictly necessary.
“Is it someone weird? Is it Neville?!”
Ginny blinked. “No.”
Too quickly.
Harry stared at her. “Wait, it is Neville?!”
“NO!” she shouted, lobbing a snowball straight into Harry’s hood. “Stop asking questions!”
********************
The snowball war had calmed. Ron was rubbing his forehead from a particularly nasty hit. Hermione and Ginny had retreated to giggle near a tree. Harry, however, had a mission.
He stomped through the snow to where Ariel was lounging on a tree stump, sipping hot cocoa from a conjured mug like she was queen of the snow battlefield.
“Ariel.”
She raised a brow. “Yes, Potter?”
“You’re my best friend.”
She nodded. “Obviously.”
“You’ve seen me nearly die at least two times.”
“Eight, but who’s counting the homework failures.”
He dropped to his knees in the snow. “Tell me who Hermione’s date is. Or Ginny’s. I’m desperate .”
Ariel smirked, sipped her cocoa, then casually leaned forward and flicked him on the nose.
“Sorry, blind-boy,” she said. “Classified information.”
Harry sputtered. “ Blind-boy ?!”
“You’re asking me to betray my sisters-in-chaos. I take that betrayal very seriously.”
He groaned, falling face-first into the snow. “You’re evil.”
She picked up a bit of snow and sprinkled it on him. “And yet... irresistible.”
********************
“Alright,” Ariel said, hands on her hips as she stood at the center of Hermione’s dorm room, “I’ve rounded up every chaotic female I know, bribed Luna with enchanted fruitcake, and emotionally blackmailed Anna into coming. This is going to be glorious .”
“I’m not doing eyeliner shaped like moons,” Anna announced as she walked in, dropping a bag of makeup and hair potions on the floor. “And if anyone touches my boots, I hex them.”
“Touch the boots. Got it,” said Stephanie with a wicked grin.
Hermione, already half-dressed and extremely stressed, was frantically checking the time. “We have exactly three hours before we have to be in the Entrance Hall. We need a system.”
“We need snacks,” Luna added, drifting in behind her with a box of sugar-dusted pastries.
Ginny flopped onto the nearest bed, tossing her shoes off. “We need to set Ariel’s hair on fire. That’ll complete the holiday vibe.”
Ariel smirked. “Only if you want to die looking fabulous.”
********************
Anna, somehow, became the ringleader without even trying.
“I need silence. And your faces. Don’t argue.”
She sat Hermione down first, muttering about bone structure and “too much eyebrow stress.” A few waves of her wand, a dab of rose-gold highlighter, and Hermione was suddenly giving “ princess of intellect with a side of revenge” .
Hermione blinked at her reflection. “I look... good?”
“You look dangerously competent ,” Ariel said proudly. “Like you’re about to run for Minister of Magic and win.”
Luna was next - and she insisted on glitter. Actual glitter. Everywhere.
Anna, miraculously, did not scream.
Instead, she leaned in and carefully rimmed Luna’s eyes with stardust eyeliner, then waved her wand to twirl her hair into soft pastel curls, scattered with tiny floating suns.
“You look like a dream,” Hermione whispered.
“I feel like a star being reborn,” Luna agreed serenely.
Ginny almost refused to sit.
“I like my hair messy.”
“It’s not a personality trait,” Anna deadpanned.
“Neither is eternal scowling,” Ginny shot back.
Five minutes and three insults later, Ginny’s copper hair was in a wild, enchanted braid with blue butterflies woven between the strands. Her green dress shimmered like deep forest moss.
She blinked at her reflection. “…Okay, that’s cool.”
Stephanie, naturally, requested the most dramatic look possible.
“I want to look like I’m about to be asked to prom by a vampire prince in a thunderstorm.”
“You always look like that,” Ariel said, cackling.
Anna gave her bold eyeliner wings, glow-charmed her cheekbones, and twisted Stephanie’s hair into a gravity-defying updo that glowed faintly at the tips.
“I look like chaos incarnate,” Stephanie said in awe.
“You are chaos incarnate,” Ginny replied.
********************
She stood behind everyone as they admired themselves, arms crossed, grinning - until Luna turned and gently tugged her forward.
“Your turn.”
“Ugh,” Ariel groaned. “Fine. But I’m warning you, I’ve got a lot of face. It’s not for the faint-hearted.”
Anna raised a brow. “You have the face of a legend.”
“Oh. Flattery? Are you dying?”
Ariel sat, and let Anna get to work. She wasn’t used to being still - not for this long, not in front of a mirror. But as the minutes passed and Anna swept in starlit navy shadows to match her dress, curled her thick, wild hair into moonlit waves, and added just a tiny dusting of silver over her cheeks...
She saw something else in the mirror.
Power. Beauty. And joy.
She smiled.
Anna stepped back, arms folded. “You look like the night sky decided to become a girl and start a rebellion.”
“…Holy hell,” Ariel said softly. “I’d date me.”
“You’d fight you,” Stephanie added.
“Also true.”
********************
They all stood together in front of the long dorm mirror, stunned silent for a second.
Then:
“Okay,” Ariel said. “We’re literally unstoppable.”
“We look like we’re about to overthrow the Ministry,” said Stephanie proudly.
“Or seduce the entire Great Hall,” Ginny added.
“I’ve never worn anything this pink,” Luna whispered.
“You’re pink with power, ” Ariel told her.
Hermione checked the time. “We should head down soon.”
Anna grabbed her boots, stomped once, and said: “Let’s go break hearts.”
********************
The Great Hall had never looked like this before.
Gone were the house banners and floating candles. In their place hung strings of enchanted crystal stars that swirled lazily in the air, glittering with soft light. The walls shimmered like frost, translucent and glittering, and the ceiling reflected a night sky so perfectly that a few younger students whispered about real constellations dancing.
A polished parquet floor had been conjured for dancing. Tables curved around the edges like snowdrifts, piled high with sparkling cider and tiny enchanted pastries shaped like pinecones.
Ariel stood at the top of the marble staircase with Harry at her side, both staring wide-eyed at the scene before them.
“Okay,” Ariel whispered, nudging him. “On a scale of one to complete aesthetic overload-”
“Ten,” Harry breathed. “It’s a ten.”
“Agreed.”
She glanced sideways. He was in sleek dress robes - black, simple, but somehow very him. His hair still refused to lie flat. He looked... weirdly good.
He was staring at her like he couldn’t believe she was real.
“You’re staring, Potter.”
He blinked. “I-no-I mean yes-sorry. You just-your dress-”
“Use your words, blind-boy.”
“You look amazing,” he blurted.
Ariel, flustered, shoved him gently. “Stop it before I get all emotional and ruin my eyeliner.”
********************
Anna had spent most of the evening lurking in the shadows, drinking cider like it might hex someone. Her black dress cut a sharp silhouette against the silvery lights, boots stomping with purpose as she avoided every boy who so much as glanced her way.
Luna stood beside her, gently swaying to the music with a soft smile.
“Do you want to dance?” Luna asked suddenly, voice light as snow.
Anna’s brows shot up. “With you ?”
“Yes.”
Anna froze. “I don’t dance.”
“You can stomp. That counts.”
Luna’s eyes sparkled - not with mischief, but with calm, quiet trust.
Anna opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked down at her combat boots.
“…Okay. But if I step on your foot, I’m not apologizing.”
Luna held out her hand. “That’s alright. I brought enchanted socks.”
********************
Anna let Luna lead - because she was secretly terrified - and tried to ignore the way people were watching them. Whispering. Confused.
But Luna didn’t seem to care.
She twirled softly, smile bright, completely unbothered by anything except the moment. Anna couldn’t help but follow.
And then - without realizing - Anna started to smile.
Not a smirk.
Not a grimace.
A real one.
Luna noticed, of course. “See? You’re not as scary as you pretend to be.”
“I’m terrifying ,” Anna muttered.
“You’re soft,” Luna said gently, spinning closer. “But you only let the right people see it.”
Anna stared at her, heart suddenly pounding in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
“…You’re weird,” she said, voice softer than ever.
“And you like that.”
Anna didn’t deny it.
********************
Ginny danced with Neville, who somehow didn’t trip once.
Hermione and Viktor looked poised and perfect - until she tripped slightly and he caught her with surprising gentleness.
And Ariel?
She was dancing with Harry.
Well - sort of dancing. It was a lot of awkward footwork, stepping on toes, and very bad attempts at waltzing. They were laughing more than they were actually moving.
“You’re worse at this than I am,” Ariel gasped.
“I thought you were leading!” Harry said, spinning the wrong way.
Ariel bumped into him, caught his hand, and beamed. “Then we’re doomed.”
But neither of them let go.
********************
Anna and Luna stood close, their boots almost touching.
“You danced,” Luna whispered.
Anna shrugged, trying not to look like she was blushing. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” Luna promised. “It’ll be our secret.”
“…Thank you,” Anna murmured, almost too quiet to hear.
“For what?”
“For being the first person who made me want to try.”
Luna just smiled, and gently squeezed her hand.
********************
Ron was not built for formal events.
His dress robes were too stiff. His shoes were slippery. His tie was choking him. And he was sweating through every layer of clothing like the Hogwarts greenhouse in July.
But somehow - somehow - standing across from him in a dress that looked like a glow-in-the-dark jellyfish and glitter eyeliner that was almost violent… was Stephanie Baker.
“Blimey,” he whispered.
Stephanie twirled dramatically. “Right?! I look like I fell into a vat of chaos.”
“You look-um-really good,” Ron said, cheeks blazing.
“Ronald. Be still my heart.” She fluttered her lashes and then promptly tripped over her own foot .
“Steady-!” he lunged and caught her by the elbow before she could wipe out completely.
They both blinked.
Then burst out laughing.
“Right, okay, dancing,” Stephanie grinned, recovering. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Me neither,” Ron said with relief.
“Perfect.”
********************
They didn’t so much dance as… flail in a coordinated fashion. Stephanie kept talking the whole time - about the string quartet, the suspiciously sparkly snacks, and the fact that Professor McGonagall looked like a chandelier.
Ron was cry-laughing by the time they did their third awkward spin.
“Everyone here’s trying to be elegant,” Stephanie declared proudly, “and we are failing in the most spectacular way.”
“I think we’re nailing it.”
She beamed. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Ron tripped over his own foot and blushed so hard his ears turned maroon.
********************
Later, when everyone was eating fancy desserts and pretending not to be sweaty, Stephanie leaned over and whispered:
“Wanna sneak one of those sparkling jelly things for the road?”
Ron grinned. “You read my mind.”
And in that chaotic, clumsy moment, he realized:
He was really glad she’d asked him.
********************
The party was still going - swirls of color and laughter filling the Great Hall - but Ariel had slipped away from the crowd and snuck out to the long, open corridor just outside the Hall, where snowflakes drifted lazily in from the enchanted ceiling skylight. Her shoes were off, her curls were starting to fall, and her glitter was somewhere back on the dance floor.
She flopped onto a bench and stretched her arms out dramatically.
“Do not talk to me unless you’re offering chocolate or the secrets of the universe.”
“Sorry,” said a familiar voice, “all I’ve got is a stolen mini éclair.”
She cracked one eye open.
Harry stood there in his dress robes, still a little flushed from dancing, holding a ridiculous-looking pastry between two fingers.
“…I’ll allow it.”
He walked over and sat beside her, offering her the éclair. She took it without hesitation and bit in.
They sat in silence for a minute, watching the charmed snow fall in slow spirals.
Then Harry asked softly, “Did you have fun?”
Ariel leaned her head on his shoulder without thinking. “More than I expected.”
“Same.”
His voice was warm. A little tired. A little... different.
He smelled like pine and cinnamon and something uniquely Harry - like warm spells and wind and just enough disaster to make her smile.
She sighed happily. “We didn’t fall. We didn’t trip over each other too badly. We looked amazing.”
“We were sort of incredible,” he agreed.
Another beat passed.
“Hey,” she said suddenly. “Thanks for asking me.”
Harry turned his head to look at her. “You’re the only person I wanted to ask.”
She smiled - soft, real, and a little too close to hopeful.
“Well,” she said, nudging him gently. “I am the coolest half-werewolf Gryffindor in school.”
He laughed under his breath. “You’re not wrong.”
They didn’t say anything for a while after that.
But they didn’t move apart, either.
********************
The Gryffindors had long since shed their ball gowns and dress robes in favor of fuzzy pajamas and mismatched socks. Ariel sat cross-legged in front of the fire in her Weasley jumper two sizes too big, hair now a puffball of post-party chaos.
Hermione had just dragged out her birthday gift from her parents: a Muggle Monopoly set . She laid it on the rug with all the solemnity of someone revealing ancient wizard treasure.
“Behold,” she said. “Capitalism.”
“YES,” Ariel declared. “Let’s destroy our friendships with tiny plastic hotels!”
Ron narrowed his eyes. “I don’t get the point of this game.”
“You will,” said Ginny darkly, “and it will ruin you.”
Twenty minutes in, Ron was in debt, Harry had bought everything , and Ariel had been removed from the game for “unhinged property tax threats.”
Hermione tried to keep order. She failed.
Ariel had tears streaming down her face from laughing.
********************
Things were... different.
Luna had started a soft playlist of harp music, and a group of Ravenclaws lounged on bean bags around their enchanted fire pit. A pot of spiced tea brewed itself quietly in the corner.
Stephanie was already in her dorm, all her sugar-related energy depleted.
Anna, in a black hoodie now, was leaning back with her boots crossed and Luna’s head resting on her shoulder. Glitter sparkled gently in her hair from the night’s earlier enchantments.
“I still hate dresses,” Anna murmured.
“I know,” Luna replied softly.
“I didn’t hate tonight.”
A pause.
Then Luna smiled.
“Me neither.”
They sipped tea in peaceful silence, surrounded by books, blankets, and the low hum of magic.
********************
The Prefects’ Bathroom was impossibly large-marble walls gleaming, mirrors everywhere, and massive, claw-footed tubs steaming with hot water scented faintly of lavender. It was one of those places that felt both magical and calming, a perfect refuge from the chaos of the castle below.
Harry had slipped away after the Yule Ball, clutching the mysterious golden egg tightly in one hand. The others had gone back to Gryffindor Tower, probably exhausted and still buzzing with excitement and awkwardness. He needed this moment alone.
He dipped the egg beneath the steaming water, wincing as the shell let out that terrible, screeching sound - like a banshee trapped inside.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
“Hey, Potter.”
Harry jumped, clutching the egg tighter.
Cedric Diggory stepped inside, his expression warm but serious. His dress robes were slightly disheveled, but he carried himself with the same quiet confidence that made him stand out anywhere.
“You looked like you could use a hand.”
Harry nodded, grateful but wary. “Thanks, Cedric.”
Cedric smiled faintly and moved to the edge of the tub. “The egg’s the clue, yeah? It’s not just some weird prank.”
Harry swallowed hard, then nodded again.
“Look,” Cedric said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t know all the answers either. But I’ve been poking around, and-” He lowered his voice even more, eyes flicking toward the door, “-there’s a legend about the lake. The one near Hogwarts, that’s full of those creepy merpeople. They’re connected to the second task.”
Harry felt a jolt in his chest.
“The second task?” he asked.
Cedric nodded. “Yeah. The one that’s coming up next. You’re going to have to dive under the water-fight the currents, and whatever’s down there-to rescue something precious.”
Harry’s fingers clenched the egg tighter. “But the egg won’t open.”
Cedric shrugged. “It’s supposed to be opened underwater, by the sounds of it. I’m guessing it’ll give you the real clue when you’re down there.”
Harry glanced down at the egg, its shell smooth and gleaming despite the water.
“Thanks, Cedric,” Harry said quietly.
“No problem,” Cedric replied with a small grin. “Good luck. We’ll both need it.”
As Cedric left, Harry stared into the steaming water, the egg’s screeches echoing faintly in his ears. He felt the weight of what was to come - the second task, the unknown, the danger lurking beneath the lake’s dark surface.
But for the first time in a while, he also felt a spark of something else - hope.
********************
It started with one simple sentence over dinner.
“I cracked the egg.”
Ariel nearly dropped her fork.
“You what? ”
Harry looked tired, cold from training, and slightly smug. “Cedric gave me a hint. It’s got something to do with merpeople. The egg makes this weird song-but only underwater.”
Ariel’s eyes gleamed. “Right. We’re going now.”
“Wait- we? ” Harry asked, fork halfway to his mouth.
She was already standing. “You're not keeping the cool egg-mermaid mystery to yourself, Potter. Grab your wand. We're going.”
“But-” He glanced toward the plates piled with roast chicken. “Dinner?”
Ariel reached over and stole a drumstick from his plate. “To-go. Let’s go, secret-swimmer.”
********************
Harry muttered the password (“Pine-fresh”) and the ornate door swung open, revealing marble, gold faucets, and a swimming pool that probably cost more than the entire Gryffindor tower.
Ariel gave a low whistle. “Blimey. No wonder Cedric smells like expensive soap.”
They didn’t bother changing. They were already late for dinner. Ariel dragged Harry toward the water, their school uniforms still on. He tried to object, but she already had her tie off and was hopping one-footed into the bath.
“Are you seriously-?”
“Last one in’s a Blast-Ended Skrewt!” she hollered, and cannonballed in.
With a deep sigh and a muttered prayer to Merlin, Harry followed.
They both surfaced, soaked, gasping-and laughing.
“Merlin’s pants, it’s warm!” Ariel grinned, hair floating around her like a puff of navy curls. “Alright, let’s see this egg do its magic.”
Harry took a breath, held the egg underwater, and dunked himself.
Ariel followed.
And this time-
“Come seek us where our voices sound…
We cannot sing above the ground…
An hour long you'll have to look…
To recover what we took.”
The song rippled through the water, ghostly and clear.
They both broke the surface at the same time.
Harry blinked water out of his eyes. “Well… that’s cryptic.”
Ariel pushed her hair out of her face. “So... we’re basically racing a clock underwater to save something or someone from singing fish people.”
Harry raised a brow. “You make it sound like a bad play.”
“Harry. Everything at this school is a bad play.”
********************
They stormed into the common room in soaking wet uniforms , slipping slightly on the rug and dripping water everywhere.
Ron looked up from wizard chess and dropped a rook.
Ginny burst out laughing. “What in Merlin’s soggy socks-?”
Hermione’s mouth opened in silent horror. “You’re dripping all over the good sofa!”
Ariel pointed at Harry dramatically. “We have a clue!”
Harry, still drenched, held up the golden egg like a war trophy. “Merpeople. One hour. They’re taking something-or someone-and I have to get it back.”
Hermione immediately switched into Overdrive Mode™. “An hour limit implies a breathing challenge. A timed spell? Or maybe a potion…”
Ginny grabbed towels and started wringing out Harry’s sleeve with a smirk. “Did you two bathe in the egg’s clue?”
Ariel stuck out her tongue. “Nah. We were just romantically drowning.”
Ron’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.
********************
Harry gathered Luna and Anna by the fireplace in the library, the golden egg placed carefully between them.
Luna twirled a strand of hair. “They’ll keep something precious to you,” she said dreamily. “You’ll need to be brave. And kind.”
Anna, practical and sarcastic, rolled her eyes but was clearly taking it seriously.
“Okay,” she said. “One hour underwater. So let’s assume normal human lungs are out. That means a magical breathing method.”
Stephanie crash-landed into the conversation, skidding in socks. “Hey! I brought snacks and theories!”
Harry blinked. “You-what-?”
“Stephanie’s been helping,” Anna said dryly. “Mostly distracting us with very aggressive crackers.”
“We’ve checked everything,” Hermione said, rejoining them later. “Bubble-Head Charms, Gillyweed, Transfiguration... nothing that works under Triwizard regulations. We’ll need something else.”
They all fell into silence, frustration building.
********************
Harry was dreaming.
In his dream, he was swimming peacefully through the lake, surrounded by sunlight filtering through the surface. A choir of mermaids was singing in harmony-until one of them suddenly screamed his name like a banshee.
“ HARRY POTTER SIR!!! ”
Harry sat bolt upright, flailed backward, and somehow fell straight off the bed, dragging half the duvet with him in a tangle of limbs, blankets, and muffled swearing.
“WHAT-WHO-IS THERE A FIRE-A CURSE-A DEMENTOR?!”
He scrambled for his wand and smacked his elbow on the bedpost.
“ INTRUDER! THERE’S AN INTRUDER IN THE BOYS’ DORM! ” he shouted, voice cracking like a terrified violin.
There was a pop , a flash of movement, and then-
“ DOBBY IS HERE, SIR!! ”
“AAAAAAAAAAGH!!”
Harry’s heart did a full backflip inside his chest as Dobby’s enormous green eyes loomed over him like twin dinner plates of doom.
He clutched his chest, gasping. “MERLIN’S BOXERS, DOBBY! YOU CAN’T JUST APPEAR LIKE THAT-I THOUGHT I WAS GETTING MURDERED!”
Dobby beamed, unbothered. “Dobby is sorry, sir! Dobby did not mean to kill Harry Potter with fright!”
“I HAVE AGED SIX YEARS IN TEN SECONDS-”
“BUT DOBBY HAS GOOD NEWS!!”
Harry dragged himself halfway back onto his bed, panting like he’d run a marathon backwards. “It better be spectacular , Dobby.”
With dramatic flourish, Dobby held up a slippery, vaguely menacing lump of something green and rubbery. “ GILLYWEED!! ”
Harry blinked.
Then blinked again.
“…What.”
“Gillyweed, sir! You eat it, and you can breathe underwater! For one whole hour , sir!”
Harry stared at the slimy plant. “It looks like seaweed crossed with a boggart.”
“It is most powerful ,” Dobby nodded proudly. “And perfect for the second task, sir! Dobby overheard Professor Moody talking-”
Harry’s heart began to slow back to normal. “Wait… this could actually work. This is it. This is what I need .”
Dobby jumped up and down like a hyperactive squirrel. “Dobby thought-‘what if Harry Potter drowns?!’ and Dobby knew he had to help!”
Harry, still recovering from cardiac arrest, gave him a shaky grin. “You’re a menace, Dobby. A chaotic, terrifying menace. But also… kind of brilliant.”
Dobby’s ears flapped happily.
“I could kiss you,” Harry mumbled.
Dobby’s eyes grew even wider. “Dobby would die on the spot , sir!”
“Please don’t. I’ve already got one crisis happening later today.”
Dobby bowed, proudly, and with a loud pop , he vanished-leaving behind a trail of sparkles, one wilted flower petal, and the faint smell of boiled turnips.
Harry lay on the floor for another full minute.
“…This school is going to kill me before Voldemort even gets the chance.”
********************
The Great Hall was nearly empty now, abandoned breakfast dishes glowing under the early morning sun streaming through frosted windows. Ariel had made short work of her toast and then wandered off, stuffing her hands into her robe pockets as she headed toward the Entrance Hall.
She passed Hermione and Ginny just outside the castle doors, both wrapped in scarves and looking tense. Luna was skipping ahead of them through the snow, glittering earmuffs bouncing on her head. Stephanie was spinning in a slow circle, probably trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue. Anna stood nearby, arms crossed, looking like she regretted every life decision that brought her outdoors before 10am.
But Ariel didn’t join them.
She waited. Because Harry hadn’t come down yet.
And she knew he’d need someone.
She leaned against the banister of the marble staircase, humming a Weird Sisters song under her breath and blowing warm air into her hands.
The footsteps above her were unmistakably panicked.
Harry thundered down the stairs looking like he’d just been electrocuted.
Hair wilder than usual. Socks mismatched. Shoelaces untied. Still holding something slimy in his hand.
Ariel blinked.
“…What happened to you ?”
Harry nearly tripped on the last step. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, I absolutely do.”
He looked like he was debating whether to collapse or laugh.
“Dobby woke me up. By screaming my name in the dark at full volume. I thought I was being murdered. I tried to hex him with a sock.”
Ariel was already wheezing.
“No. No way.”
“Way,” Harry groaned. “And then he gave me this.” He held up the gillyweed. “Said it’ll let me breathe underwater for the task.”
Ariel blinked. “Wait. So your entire plan is to eat... pond salad... and hope it works?”
“Basically.”
She grinned. “You’re an idiot. But a brave one.”
He gave her a crooked smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
They stood there for a moment in the quiet corridor. A hush, like the moment before you take the first step off a cliff and hope you fly.
“You’re scared,” Ariel said suddenly, her voice softer than usual.
Harry didn’t answer for a second. Then, quietly: “Yeah.”
“Good. Means you’ve got something to lose.”
He looked at her, surprised. Then nodded.
She shoved his shoulder gently. “Now go win. Before I do something stupid like cry and ruin my reputation.”
Harry grinned - wide, boyish, grateful - and started walking beside her toward the lake.
********************
The stands were packed, voices rising in excited clouds of steam into the cold morning air. The lake stretched out like a sheet of black glass under the pale sky. Snow sat in soft drifts along the bank, untouched and still.
Harry stood at the edge, the gillyweed tucked tightly in his palm. He saw his friends in the crowd - Hermione and Ginny side by side, Luna in bubblegum-pink earmuffs, Stephanie waving a foam hand that said GO GRYFFINDOR (where did she even get that?), and Anna next to her, looking like she was pretending not to care.
Ariel stood at the front of the crowd, arms crossed, grinning fiercely. Her navy scarf flapped in the wind.
She caught his eye, mouthed: Don’t die, idiot.
Harry winked.
Bagman’s voice boomed across the lake:
“CHAMPIONS, ON MY WHISTLE-THREE… TWO… ONE-”
FWEET!
Harry shoved the gillyweed into his mouth. It tasted like old socks and algae. Within seconds, he collapsed forward into the water-and everything changed.
********************
The moment the gillyweed kicked in, Harry’s body transformed. Webbing spread between his fingers. His legs felt longer, stronger - like they’d turned into proper swimmer’s limbs. He could breathe through new slits on his neck, every gasp of lake water filling him with oxygen instead of panic.
The cold still bit into him, but it was distant now, numbed by adrenaline and magic.
The lake was massive. Silent. A green-blue world full of twisting kelp forests, glimmering pebbles, and strange currents. Shoals of silver fish danced in spiral patterns beneath him. The light from the surface turned watery and dim, and darker shapes moved far below.
Somewhere behind a bed of rocks, Harry swore he saw a Grindylow dart past. Its long fingers reached out toward him before he kicked away, sending up a puff of sand.
He swam deeper.
Time passed in strange stretches, like the pressure of the water distorted everything - his thoughts, his pace, even his fear. Then he spotted a strange silhouette gliding gracefully through the water ahead.
Cedric.
He was unmistakable in his black and yellow robes, slicing through the lake like a human arrow. When Cedric reached a wide algae forest, he flipped underwater in a full, slow-motion backflip, like a seal in a circus trick - and came face to face with pushed a girl with pretty hair up to the surface.
Cho.
Cedric gave a short, focused nod and started slicing through the water, moving like a trained diver.
Harry pushed on, heart pounding harder with every meter.
Soon he found the village.
A half-circle of coral-like structures nestled among lake boulders and reeds, guarded by merpeople with long gray-green tails and yellow eyes. Some held spears. All of them watched him intently.
There were three hostages tied to stone posts, floating eerily still.
Ron.
Hermione.
And the smallest figure-Fleur’s little sister, Gabrielle.
He reached for Ron first, yanking at the slippery lake weed around his chest and arms. It fought him like a living thing, twisting tighter, but Harry drew his wand and blasted it off in quick bursts.
Ron began to drift, unconscious, but breathing fine in the spell-induced stasis.
Before Harry could turn to Gabrielle, a blur of movement caught his eye.
A dark shape. Broad. With a massive fin.
Harry spun just in time to see something that made his mouth go dry.
Krum.
Or… half of him.
The top was Viktor Krum - face serious, wand in one hand. But from the neck down…
He was a shark.
His whole lower body had transfigured , tail and all, and it was horrifyingly effective. He swam in tight, powerful bursts - and with a snap of those awful jaws, bit clean through Hermione’s bindings.
Harry flinched.
But it worked.
Krum gently caught Hermione in his arms and turned, swimming upward like a monstrous lifeguard.
Harry stared.
He knew what the clue had said. One person . The one you’ll miss most.
But Fleur hadn’t come.
No one was coming for Gabrielle.
He turned back to the little girl - so small, her golden hair drifting in a slow underwater dance. She looked like a doll. Alone.
And Harry couldn't leave her.
The merpeople didn’t stop him.
He wrapped one arm around Ron, the other around Gabrielle, and kicked upward with all his strength.
********************
The lake burst open like a soda bottle shaken too hard.
Harry emerged with two people, one under each arm, soaked to the bone, face pale with effort but alive . Ron spluttered beside him, coughing up lake water. Gabrielle floated gently in Harry’s grip, unharmed.
The crowd exploded into cheers.
“YES!” Hermione shouted, hugging Ginny.
Luna threw confetti made of fish scales.
Hermione jumped up and down, her wet curls clinging to her face.
Stephanie nearly fell off the bleachers.
And Ariel - arms raised, scarf flying behind her - screamed with a grin:
“YOU ABSOLUTE SEAWEED-SUCKING NUTCASE! I TOLD YOU NOT TO DIE!”
Harry gasped out a breath and waved weakly.
The task was done.
And Harry?
He was grinning like a madman, soaked in lake water, seaweed in his hair, Gabrielle clutching his shoulder…
And the loudest cheers of all were coming from the people he loved.
********************
Harry sat wrapped in a thick blanket, his hair still damp and sticking up worse than usual. Madam Pomfrey was bustling somewhere behind him, muttering about hypothermia and students with "no regard for their internal organs." He could still feel lake water in his ears.
Across the clearing, Bagman waved for quiet.
The crowd slowly hushed, eager to hear the final results.
Bagman’s voice rang out, magically amplified:
“Right! Judges have conferred, and we now have scores for the Second Task!”
The champions stood in a line-Harry, still dripping; Cedric, hair slicked back like a shampoo commercial; Viktor Krum, scowling slightly but otherwise unfazed; and Fleur, whose expression was a mix of worry and deep frustration. Gabrielle sat beside her, safe but sleepy.
Bagman cleared his throat theatrically.
“Mr. Cedric Diggory demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was swift, and returned his hostage-Miss Chang- with time to spare! ” Bagman beamed.
“Nine points!”
The Hufflepuffs roared. Cedric gave a sheepish smile and a little wave.
“Mr. Viktor Krum also displayed a fine magical ability, using partial Transfiguration to become… well, a shark.” Some people in the crowd laughed. Krum raised one eyebrow.
“Rescued Miss Granger, but was a touch rough with the bindings.
Eight points!”
The Durmstrang students clapped like a polite thunderstorm. Hermione blushed furiously.
“Miss Fleur Delacour was unfortunately unable to reach her sister, though she showed bravery in attempting the task.
Four points.”
Fleur lowered her eyes, her grip on Gabrielle tightening.
Then Bagman turned, and all eyes followed him.
“And last, but certainly not least… Mr. Harry Potter.”
Silence.
Harry shifted, trying not to pull the blanket tighter like a toddler.
“Mr. Potter used Gillyweed to navigate the task. Though he arrived last to the village, he insisted on rescuing both Mr. Weasley and Miss Delacour-despite knowing he would not receive extra points.”
There was a pause.
“Most of the judges,” he gave a nasty look to Karkaroff. “Feel this shows a great deal of moral fibre.” Bagman smiled brightly. “ And for that- nine points!”
The crowd went absolutely berserk.
The Gryffindors exploded in cheers. Ariel was leaping up and down like she’d won the lottery, yelling, “TAKE THAT, YOU LITERAL GOLDFISH!” at no one in particular.
Luna was applauding with a satisfied, dreamy smile. Ginny had Hermione in a half-hug. Stephanie threw a handful of snow into the air like confetti. Anna looked amused and even clapped a little, which, for her, was basically a standing ovation.
Harry smiled sheepishly.
Then promptly sneezed.
********************
Madam Pomfrey had done her usual magic-literally and emotionally-by fussing around like a tiny tornado and threatening to immobilise the next person who tried to sneak food in.
Which meant, naturally, Ariel was sneaking food in.
“Got you two pumpkin pasties, a Chocolate Frog, and something I think is a treacle tart,” she said, carefully placing the contraband on Harry’s bedside table.
Harry looked up, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. “You’re my favourite criminal.”
“I aim to please.”
She plopped down beside his bed and gave him a once-over. His hair still smelled faintly of pond.
“You okay?” she asked more softly.
He nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”
There was a pause.
“You know you scared the ever-loving doxies out of us, right?” Ariel added. “The moment I saw your head pop up with two people , I thought you’d drowned and turned into a sea ghost out of sheer stubbornness.”
Harry laughed-quiet but real. “Couldn’t leave Gabrielle.”
“I know,” she said, smiling. “Still. Next time, maybe try not to go full underwater hero without warning?”
“I’ll think about it.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the soft ticking of the clock and distant hum of the castle all around them.
Then Ariel casually reached over and flicked his nose.
“Ow-what was that for?”
“Just making sure you’re real. And also because you’re an idiot.”
Harry grinned.
And this time, when their eyes met, the silence felt warm.
Unspoken, but understood.
********************
Fred and George had somehow charmed every single piece of furniture into doing celebratory flips. The armchairs were bouncing like excited puppies. The curtains sparkled with conjured glitter stars. The fireplace roared with warm gold flames that occasionally spelled out “GO HARRY!” before puffing back into smoke.
And on the long study tables? An actual buffet.
Mountains of snacks.
Towers of tarts.
Pumpkin pasties piled so high someone made them into a sorting hat.
Trays of treacle fudge.
Chocolate frogs hopping merrily around a literal fruit punch lake in a bowl big enough to swim in.
“I’m ninety percent sure this violates several school policies,” Ariel whispered to Hermione as they both stared at a floating pudding.
“Yes,” Hermione sighed, “but the house-elves were delighted , so I’m pretending not to care.”
Stephanie was standing on a table with Lee Jordan, tossing handfuls of marshmallows into people’s mouths. Luna had perched herself on the windowsill, humming a strange, lulling tune as she drew stars in the fogged glass. Anna, somehow coaxed into coming by Luna and Ariel’s persistence, leaned coolly against a wall with a cup of punch, pretending she didn’t find this all extremely fun .
The whole common room shimmered with laughter, music, and firelight.
And at the centre of it all was Harry, hair still slightly damp, looking overwhelmed and incredibly pleased.
Ginny had dragged him into the middle of a circle and was declaring loudly:
“Two tasks down, one to go, and our idiot is still alive! ”
Everyone roared in agreement.
Someone passed Harry a butterbeer, someone else dumped a garland of fake gillyweed on his head.
He didn’t stop smiling the entire time.
********************
By midnight, the food was half-eaten, the marshmallows had run out, and most of the students had slowly wandered off to their dormitories. A few second-years had fallen asleep under the table. Stephanie was curled on a beanbag, drooling faintly into a cushion with glitter on her cheeks. Luna and Anna had left earlier, floating off toward Ravenclaw Tower with a gentle goodnight.
Only a few pockets of warmth remained.
Harry sat on the sofa closest to the fire, slouched down with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
Ariel plopped beside him, her legs stretched out across the rug, her boots kicked off.
“Whew,” she said dramatically. “If I eat one more treacle tart I might ascend into another realm.”
Harry chuckled, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Worth it though?”
“Oh, definitely . Any excuse to watch Fred charm the sofa into doing a jig.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a bit, watching the flames throw shadows on the ceiling. The party’s echo still lingered faintly - a few distant giggles, the creak of a staircase.
Then Ariel looked at him sideways, the firelight catching the soft gold flecks in her eyes.
“You know you’re actually doing it, right?” she said.
Harry blinked. “Doing what?”
“This. All of this. Everyone thought you’d crash and burn in the first task, or cry about your egg, or get eaten by a mermaid. But here you are. You’ve survived dragons, almost drowned, and you’re still standing. Sort of. You don’t even look that soggy anymore.”
Harry smiled, tired and touched. “Thanks, I think.”
“I’m serious, blind-boy. You’re amazing.”
He looked at her then, really looked, and she shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but her voice had gone soft.
“Also,” she added with a grin, “if you win the whole thing, you can buy me a spider.”
“You hate spiders.”
“Exactly. I want to suffer for the drama.”
They both burst into quiet laughter.
The fire crackled. A warm hush settled in again. Harry leaned his head back, his arm brushing hers, and neither of them moved.
“Hey,” Ariel said eventually, eyes closed. “If I fall asleep, don’t let me drool on your shoulder.”
“No promises,” Harry mumbled.
They didn’t speak after that.
The embers glowed low.
The wind howled faintly outside.
The last chocolate frog hopped quietly off the table and disappeared behind a cushion.
And there, in the heart of Gryffindor Tower, two stubborn, brave, secretly soft idiots fell asleep together on the common room sofa - her head on his shoulder, his cheek resting against her hair - wrapped in warmth, laughter, and the quiet joy of not being alone.
********************
The sun wasn’t even up properly when Ron Weasley’s stomach decided to riot.
Groaning, he swung his legs off the bed, fumbled for his slippers (found one under Neville’s bed, the other somehow in the sink), and dragged himself into the common room, expecting it to be empty.
What he didn’t expect was to walk straight into…
Them.
Harry.
And Ariel.
Asleep.
Together.
On the couch.
Ron froze halfway down the stairs, one socked foot dangling mid-air.
They weren’t just sitting near each other, they were full-on snuggled . Harry had clearly slumped sideways at some point and now had his cheek resting on Ariel’s head, his glasses crooked. Ariel was curled into his side, one arm flopped across his stomach. Their legs were tangled. The fire had gone out hours ago, but the two of them looked warm and completely, irritatingly peaceful.
Ron blinked. Several times.
Then a slow, mischievous grin crawled up his face.
He reached for his wand.
“Rictusempra.”
Two sparks of silver light zipped across the room, hitting both Harry and Ariel square in the ribs.
The effect was immediate.
Ariel let out a strangled yelp , flailing wildly and kicking her boot across the room.
Harry, half-asleep, choked on air and rolled off the couch with a thud , laughing helplessly as the charm tickled under his arms.
“RON!” Ariel shrieked, trying to shield herself.
“I COME IN PEACE-” Ron cackled, ducking a pillow she hurled at him.
He muttered the reverse charm, and they both stopped laughing immediately.
Harry was still breathless from laughter, blinking like he’d just come out of a dream. “What the hell, mate-”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Ron said cheerfully, twirling his wand like a sword. “Just came down for toast and stumbled across you two doing your best impression of a romantic painting. ”
Ariel groaned and shoved her hair back. “We fell asleep, you walking freckle .”
“Sure you did.”
“We did ,” Harry said, stretching. “And I have the crick in my neck to prove it.”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “You sure it was just sleeping?”
Harry looked flustered. Ariel looked murderous.
Ron held up his hands. “Alright, alright - jeez. Just saying. Friendly snuggles, then.”
But even as he wandered off to the breakfast table Fred and George had transfigured last night into a snack bar, a tiny thought started turning over in Ron’s mind like a puzzle piece flipped the right way for the first time.
********************
Okay, so.
When, exactly, had this happened?
Harry and Ariel had always been friends - chaos twins, laughing at everything, teaming up for pranks, yelling across hallways.
But… this was different.
This was soft.
This was comfortable.
This was “falling asleep on someone and not dying of embarrassment” level close.
Ron stuffed a pumpkin pasty into his mouth and frowned.
When had they gotten like that?
Who caught feelings first?
Harry was clueless about basically everything emotional unless someone hit him with a metaphorical Bludger to the face. But Ariel? She was loud and fearless and probably knew her own feelings before Harry had even learned to tie his own tie.
Still, he’d never seen her look at someone the way she looked at Harry when she didn’t think anyone was watching. There’d been something there for a while. Years, maybe.
"Was it third year?" Ron thought, brain gears turning like a Pensieve on overdrive.
“When Harry fell off his broom Quidditch match against Hufflepuff? She was the one who saved him from falling.”
Ron rubbed his chin like a detective in a Muggle movie.
Conclusion: Ariel fell first.
When? Probably his third year.
Harry? Oblivious as a kneazle in a library.
He watched the two of them now-Harry trying to re-shoe himself while Ariel was attempting to tame her hair with a piece of string.
They were still bickering softly, half-laughing, eyes always darting back to each other.
Ron squinted.
Definitely in love. Both of them. 100%. No doubt.
(…Even if they didn’t know it yet.)
He took another bite of pasty.
“Idiots,” he muttered fondly. “Absolute, adorable idiots.”
********************
It was a lazy Saturday morning, the kind where Hogwarts looked like it belonged in a snow globe - soft, white flurries drifting past windows, frost kissing the stone, and not a single professor demanding an essay.
Which meant that Ron had expected to spend the day the way all good days should be spent: eating, sitting, not moving much, and absolutely not thinking.
And yet, there he was, seated in the armchair by the common room fire, thinking too hard about Ariel and Harry.
Again.
He hadn’t meant to. But they made it impossible.
Across the room, Harry and Ariel were playing some version of Wizard Snap that involved actual sparks and an alarming number of flying cards. Ariel was in full dramatic mode, hunched over the table like a goblin banker, whispering to the cards like they could hear her.
Harry, of course, was laughing.
And that was what had started Ron’s brain spiraling.
Because Harry didn’t laugh like that for just anyone.
He laughed loud and helpless and unfiltered - the kind of laugh where he had to put a hand over his mouth and lean on the table. And Ariel? She was grinning like she’d just set off a Dungbomb in Snape’s office and gotten away with it.
“You’re cheating,” Harry said between laughs.
Ariel gasped. “How dare you accuse me, Mr. Potter. I am a lady of great integrity and mild chaos.”
“You just hexed my deck!”
“I call it creative strategy.”
Ron watched them exchange smirks.
This. This right here. This was full-on flirting.
Except they weren’t holding hands. Or blushing. Or doing any of the things people were supposed to do when they liked each other.
Instead, they were just yelling. With heart eyes.
“Have you always been this annoying?” Harry asked, grinning.
“I was born this annoying,” Ariel shot back proudly.
Ron groaned loudly and let his head fall back against the chair. “You two are exhausting.”
“Jealous?” Ariel called without even turning.
“No,” Ron muttered. “Just trying to survive the gooey-love eyes.
Harry choked. “RON!”
“YOU SAID THAT OUT LOUD?” Ariel cackled, nearly falling off her chair.
Ron crossed his arms. “Don’t act surprised. I’m not blind. You’re practically married already.”
There was a pause.
Harry turned bright red. Ariel blinked and, for once, didn’t have a comeback ready.
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Oh look. I broke them.”
“Shut up,” Harry muttered.
“Deeply,” Ariel added.
They both went back to their game, now slightly more flushed and slightly more awkward. Ron watched them a moment longer.
Ariel leaned across the table to flick Harry’s forehead.
Harry caught her hand and didn’t let go immediately.
Ron sighed dramatically and stood up.
“I’m going to the kitchens. Maybe the house-elves will serve me something less nauseating than whatever this is .”
“Bring me a treacle tart!” Harry called.
“Get your own, lovebird!”
A cushion hit him square in the back.
***********************************************************************
BONUS SCENE: Ron’s inner monologue!!!!
***********************************************************************
- 9:37am: Ariel called Harry a “sparkle-brained Quidditch lunkhead.” Harry looked delighted.
- 10:05am: Harry poked her in the ribs just to make her squeak. She retaliated with a full jelly-legs jinx. They laughed for five minutes straight.
- 11:12am: She stole his glasses and wore them upside-down. Harry told her she looked “annoyingly adorable.” HE SAID ADORABLE.
- 12:00pm: Ron has eaten three scones and still cannot escape the tension between them.
- 12:30pm: He’s concluded that they’re either going to kiss, explode, or remain in denial forever.
- Conclusion: They are, in fact, hopeless.
Notes:
what was your favourite scene??? mine was dobby scaring the living daylights out of harry lol!!!
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Notes:
two chapters in one day???
im spoiling you lot too much.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
There was something a little bittersweet about the last snow.
It clung desperately to the edges of the path like it wasn’t ready to go - greyish and clumpy, melting into patches of cold mud. But the air was warmer, the clouds softer, and patches of green were starting to show along the hills near the village.
Ariel bounced on the balls of her feet, scarf trailing behind her like a Gryffindor comet. The moment the group passed the gates and the roofs of Hogsmeade came into view, she flung her arms out like she was greeting an old friend.
“Hogsmeade!” she declared. “The land of overpriced Butterbeer and legally edible chaos!”
Harry, walking beside her, gave her a sidelong grin. “You’re not allowed to narrate real life.”
“I’m the protagonist in my own head,” she shot back. “This is chapter fourteen, and I deserve sweets.”
Ron trudged behind them, scarf askew, muttering under his breath about melting snow and how he should’ve worn thicker socks. Hermione was by his side, visibly trying not to smile. Ginny skipped ahead, linking arms with Luna, who wore a sky-blue cloak with daisies stitched into the hood.
Stephanie had caught up with Anna, who was trying to appear deeply unimpressed but failed every time Steph tripped over the path and turned it into a grand performance.
“I swear, your legs are made of spaghetti,” Anna muttered.
Stephanie beamed. “But like... fun spaghetti.”
********************
The moment the door to Honeydukes opened, Ariel made a joyful noise not unlike a banshee at a carnival.
“Oh sweet, merciful chocolate cauldrons.”
The shop was filled with spring-themed sweets - pastel Chocoballs, candied tulip petals, peppermint blossoms, and bunny-shaped fizzing whizbees. Fred and George had clearly been by earlier because a whole shelf was labeled “Testers - No Refunds”.
Harry immediately gravitated to the exploding bonbons.
Ariel grabbed three bags and started filling them with reckless abandon.
Ron was eyeing some blood-flavoured lollipops in horror. Hermione had a strict shopping list and a furrowed brow. Luna wandered into the back and reappeared with a pouch of “Crystallized Moon Snails.”
Stephanie broke the lid off a jar just by looking at it.
Anna caught it mid-fall with one hand and gave her a slow, sarcastic clap. “Wow. You’re really thriving today.”
“I thrive in chaos,” Steph replied cheerfully.
Ariel nudged Harry with her elbow. “What’s your go-to comfort sweet?”
“Treacle fudge,” he replied, then quickly added, “but I won’t say no to Bertie Bott’s.”
Ariel smirked. “Didn’t you get earwax once?”
“That was the worst day of my life.”
“No, the worst day was when Malfoy enchanted your robes pink.”
“That was your fault!”
“You dared me!”
He laughed, and Ron, watching from behind a barrel of Drooble’s, had to grip the edge because sweet Merlin, they were flirting again .
********************
Later, they squished into a corner booth at The Three Broomsticks, scarves steaming, mugs of warm Butterbeer in hand. The place buzzed with laughter and music - the light outside was golden now, and even the last clumps of snow were turning into glistening puddles.
Ginny had managed to snag a tray of hot pastries.
Luna had made a tiny flower crown for the tip of her mug.
Stephanie was pretending the foam in her drink was a moustache and giving grand speeches.
Anna was sipping her drink with one eyebrow arched, but didn’t move away when Steph leaned on her shoulder.
Ron sat across from Harry and Ariel and quietly watched them share a chocolate tart.
Like - literally share it.
Ariel took a bite. Harry stole the rest. Ariel fake-choked on outrage. Harry gave her a smug grin.
Ron was pretty sure he was watching a rom-com develop in real time.
“You know,” Hermione said, leaning in. “If you stare any harder, they might kiss just to mess with you.”
Ron choked on his Butterbeer.
********************
The sun was setting when they started walking back - the sky painted in streaks of coral and lilac. The air was crisp, the first hints of spring whispering through the cold.
Ariel walked ahead with Harry, boots squelching in the muddy path.
“D’you think the last task will have, like, acrobatic dragons or something?” she asked casually.
“I’m hoping for an indoor puzzle,” he muttered.
“Because you’re scared of spring dragons?”
“Because I’d like to live .”
They laughed together, easy and bright, their steps falling into rhythm.
Ron slowed behind them, the rest of the group chatting softly.
He watched as Harry accidentally bumped Ariel with his shoulder and she nearly toppled into the grass, laughing the whole time.
And for a moment, Ron didn’t feel confused or exasperated.
He felt... happy.
Not because he understood what they were doing - he absolutely did not - but because he could tell they fit . In a ridiculous, hilarious, totally unpredictable kind of way.
He grinned to himself.
“Idiots,” he whispered again. “They’re my idiots, though.”
********************
The sun had barely dipped behind the mountains by the time the Gryffindor common room turned into a post-Hogsmeade nest of blankets, snacks, and utterly feral energy .
Someone - probably Dean - had transfigured the study tables into soft cushions and pulled the armchairs into a wide circle. There were at least three trays of leftover Honeydukes sweets passed around like ancient offerings, and Ginny had already stolen an entire jar of butterscotch beans and declared it “the tax of existing.”
Ariel flopped onto a pile of blankets near the fireplace, her scarf still half-on, her cheeks still rosy from the chill.
Harry collapsed beside her with a soft “oof,” tossing a handful of Every Flavour Beans into his mouth with way too much confidence.
“You didn’t even look at the colours!” Ariel gawked.
He chewed slowly. Paused.
“Soap,” he said calmly. “Marmalade. Something that tastes like regret.”
Ariel snorted and shoved his shoulder. “That’s what you get for tempting fate.”
He gave her a half-hearted, sugar-fuzzed glare. “Live a little, Anderson.”
“Die a little, Potter.”
From the other side of the room, Ron called, “Oi, are you flirting or threatening each other?”
“Yes,” they both said at once.
Ron groaned into a pillow.
********************
The room buzzed with happy noise - Luna and Ginny were arguing over whether Fizzing Whizbees were better frozen. Hermione was reading but kept peeking over the top of her book to smile. Stephanie had started collecting leftover wrappers and was fashioning them into a very loud, very shiny tiara.
Anna was sitting in a corner chair, watching the room with a look of contented detachment. She even cracked a smile when Stephanie called her “Her Royal Darkness.”
Fred and George had dropped in earlier to deliver “emergency joke kits,” including an enchanted deck of cards that made fart noises and a bag of gummy snitches that tried to fly out of your mouth.
Harry had tried to eat one and now had treacle stuck to his eyebrow.
“Hold still,” Ariel giggled, leaning in to try and swipe it off. “You’ve got half a Quidditch pitch stuck to your face.”
“I blame Fred,” Harry said, barely breathing as she brushed his cheek. Her hand lingered a second too long. Her fingertips were warm from the fire.
They both paused. Didn’t look away.
Then Ron, again: “I’m begging you - stop flirting like we aren’t all sitting right here. ”
Ariel grabbed a cushion and launched it at him.
********************
Later, Stephanie passed around mugs of homemade fruit punch she’d apparently brewed using “only vaguely safe ingredients.” No one asked questions. It was fizzy and glittery and had an aftertaste of sugar quills and chaos.
“You know,” said Luna dreamily, her legs tucked underneath her as she sat between Ginny and Anna, “this is the kind of night that makes the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks come out of hibernation.”
Ariel nodded solemnly. “I bet they bring their own snacks.”
“I am the snack,” Stephanie declared.
Anna, sipping calmly from her mug, said, “You’re something.”
“Did you just call me a snack in your weird goth way?”
“Never.”
“She did,” said Ginny.
“Shut up,” Anna muttered, but her smile betrayed her.
Ariel looked around the room - all of them draped over furniture like lazy cats, the windows fogged, the fire warm, and nothing but sweetness in the air.
She caught Harry looking at her again.
This time, she didn’t look away.
********************
“Okay,” Ariel said, suddenly standing, “new plan. Blanket fort. Mandatory participation.”
Groaning and cheering followed. They raided the dormitories for sheets, cloaks, scarves - anything remotely useful. Chairs were dragged. Spells were muttered. And after twenty minutes and one minor explosion, Fort Chaos was born.
It was crooked. Glorious. Held together by hope and a levitating textbook.
They all crammed inside.
It was warm. It smelled like sweets and Butterbeer and the faint scent of pine from the firewood. Someone had charmed the ceiling to show stars. Another had summoned twinkle lights from thin air.
Ariel, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Anna, and Stephanie were tucked together in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
“I love us,” Stephanie said through a mouthful of marshmallow. “We should form a band.”
“We’d be awful,” Hermione said.
“Exactly.”
Harry turned his head toward Ariel, their knees brushing under the blanket.
“You’re really something,” he said, low and almost shy.
Ariel blinked, then smirked. “Something good?”
He gave a crooked smile. “Something dangerously good.”
“Oh, you flirt.”
“You started it.”
“You literally begged me to go to the Yule Ball.”
“You flicked my nose.”
They grinned at each other like the rest of the world had melted away.
From across the fort, Ron nudged Hermione and muttered, “I give them a week.”
“Four days,” she replied, sipping her tea. “Maybe three.”
********************
It started with a single sentence from Ginny, right before bedtime, as she stood at the foot of Ariel’s bed wearing mismatched socks and holding a bag of sugar quills.
“Let’s take over Hermione’s dorm.”
And just like that, the quiet evening transformed into a six-girl coup.
********************
By the time they’d finished dragging half the common room’s blankets, three baskets of snacks, and an impressive haul of fluffy socks into Hermione’s dormitory, the place looked more like a boutique pillow explosion than a room.
Hermione stood in the center with a hand on her hip, surveying the chaos.
“...You know this is technically against the rules.”
“That’s why it’s fun,” Ariel said, dramatically falling back onto a blanket pile.
Stephanie popped up beside her, already wearing a crooked paper crown. “I hereby declare this a sovereign nation of nonsense. Hermione, you’re our Minister of Logic.”
“I accept this tragic fate,” Hermione muttered, but she was smiling.
Anna appeared next, pulling off her boots with practiced gloom. “If Stephanie sings again tonight, I’m cursing someone’s eyebrows off.”
“I don’t sing,” Stephanie said, wounded. “I perform. ”
“You perform aggressively off-key ,” Ginny added.
“I bring colour to your lives!”
“More like migraines.”
Luna floated in last, a long pink sleep robe covered in stars and tiny badgers. “I brought glitter-infused moon tea. It’s supposed to help with dreams and unclog the soul.”
“I love that you say things like that and mean it,” Ariel whispered.
********************
Once snacks were passed around - chocolate frogs, fizzing biscuits, Honeydukes popcorn, and some mysterious treat Anna only called “Dark Delights” - they all curled into a massive nest of pillows.
Hermione was braiding Ginny’s hair, Luna was painting stars on Stephanie’s cheeks with some kind of magical shimmer-dust, and Ariel was leaning against Anna’s legs, humming off-key on purpose.
“So,” Stephanie said, blowing powdered sugar off her fingers. “Are we gonna pretend none of us saw the way Harry looked at Ariel during that whole fudge situation in Hogsmeade?”
Ariel choked on her popcorn.
“I KNEW IT,” Ginny shrieked, poking Ariel with a spoon.
Ariel flailed. “Nothing happened! He stole my tart!”
“That’s flirting,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Stealing desserts is definitely a sign.”
“ You would say that,” Ariel grumbled, trying not to smile.
Anna spoke without looking up from her snack. “You like him. It’s been obvious since-what? Second year?”
Ariel threw a pillow at her.
Luna tilted her head, calm and dreamy. “Your auras do sparkle around each other.”
“That’s not real!” Ariel said, voice climbing at least five octaves with panic.
Luna shrugged. “Doesn’t make it less true.”
The room exploded into giggles.
********************
The laughter faded after a while, replaced by soft warmth and the hum of tea mugs clicking together.
Hermione was tucked into a chair with her book, Ginny lying across her lap. Stephanie had built a weird glitter-scarf cocoon and was humming to herself. Anna was filing her nails with a wand-sharpened stone. Luna sat cross-legged, eyes closed, as if listening to stars.
Ariel sat in the middle, her hair braided messily by Ginny and glittered by Luna, sipping her third mug of moon tea and feeling more settled than she had in weeks.
She looked around at her friends - so different, so chaotic, so impossibly kind in their own strange ways - and whispered:
“This is... nice. Like... really nice.”
“It is,” Hermione said gently.
Ginny nodded, voice sleepy. “Feels like we’re safe here.”
“We are ,” Luna said dreamily.
A soft silence fell over the group, warm and golden.
Then:
“So,” Stephanie chirped, wide-eyed. “Who here has kissed anyone?”
Cue chaos.
********************
Ron had always known something was up the second none of the girls showed up to breakfast on time.
It was nearly half-nine - late by Hogwarts standards - and the Gryffindor table had been suspiciously quiet. No laughter, no Luna humming, no Ariel flinging toast at people. Even Hermione, Queen of Punctuality , was a no-show.
That only meant one thing.
A plot.
“They’re up to something,” Ron muttered, squinting at the empty spots across the table.
Harry, half-asleep and cradling a mug of tea like it owed him rent, said, “Maybe they’re just tired?”
“Mate. Six girls vanish together overnight and return late to breakfast? There was giggling. I feel it in my bones .”
Dean leaned over. “Do you think they summoned a demon?”
Seamus perked up. “Was it glittery?”
Neville looked terrified.
And then- cue dramatic entrance .
The girls walked in.
Six of them. Together. Moving like a unit. Glowing.
Literally. Luna had glitter in her hair. Ariel had it on her neck. Stephanie was still wearing a crown made of sweet wrappers. Ginny looked like she’d just won a war. Anna, cold and aloof as ever, had matching sparkles on her sleeves. And Hermione? Hermione had a little smile. A secret one.
They sat down without a word.
Harry blinked. “...What happened to all of you?”
Ariel, far too cheerful, grinned. “We were summoned by the ancient goddess of sleepovers. She demanded popcorn, secrets, and blood sacrifice.”
Ron, who had just taken a bite of toast, choked. “WHAT-”
“We stayed up until nearly three,” Hermione admitted, like it was a confession of sin.
“Doing what?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Girl things,” Ginny said.
“Spells?” Seamus tried.
“Curses?” Dean hoped.
“Boy analysis,” Stephanie replied proudly.
Every boy at the table stopped breathing.
“Oh yeah,” Ariel said, loading her plate with eggs, “we rated your personalities. Did a full psychological breakdown.”
“Ron was a 7.5,” Ginny said sweetly.
“I got rated?” Ron squawked.
“Room for emotional growth,” Hermione added, matter-of-factly.
Ron looked betrayed. “You graded me like a school paper?!”
“Better than Seamus,” Anna muttered.
“ HEY! ”
********************
Harry had mostly kept quiet during the chaos. But now, he glanced at Ariel from the corner of his eye, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.
“You didn’t... talk about me, did you?”
Ariel paused dramatically.
“Well, I wanted to put you on the ‘Needs Help’ board,” she said thoughtfully. “But Luna made a good case for ‘Dangerously Oblivious But Soft.’”
“I rest my case,” Luna whispered.
Harry stared at her. “...What does that even mean?”
“It means you blush like a dropped tomato and flirt like a broomstick,” Ariel said, patting his head gently.
Ron slapped the table. “Oh my Merlin , you’re admitting it now?! You do flirt!”
“I’m just charming,” Ariel said innocently.
“You hit me with a bread roll yesterday!”
“That’s how I show affection.”
Harry turned crimson and muttered, “You’re the worst.”
“You like it.”
Dean leaned over and whispered to Ron, “They’re totally in love.”
Ron groaned into his tea. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
********************
Eventually, the table settled into normalcy - sort of.
Ariel was now trying to get Stephanie to drink pumpkin juice from a spoon five feet away (with magic, obviously), Hermione and Ginny were deep in conversation about upcoming exams, and Luna had started handing out little glittery paper stars to everyone “for inner harmony.”
Harry watched it all with a soft look on his face.
Ariel leaned toward him, whispering, “Y’know, if you survive the next task, I’ll bake you something.”
He looked at her. “Yeah?”
“Chocolate frog cupcakes.”
“Deal.”
They smiled.
And this time, Ron didn’t roll his eyes.
He just smiled too.
Notes:
was this all just sweet, unfiltered coziness??
yes.
but the tension will come back.
but with a bit of ~PiZzAz~
<3333
Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Chapter Text
The greenhouses always smelled faintly of damp soil and citrus herbs, but today the air was heavier - wet, clinging. July heat coiled through the panes, and Harry's shirt was already sticking to his back by the time he stepped through the door.
He wasn’t here for Herbology, obviously. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. But Professor Sprout had long since stopped questioning him when he showed up the morning after a full moon, eyes shadowed, fingers twitching with guilt. It had become a routine, something steady he could cling to when everything else felt out of his control.
She was probably still asleep.
Ariel Anderson - loud when she wanted to be, quiet when she needed to be, brave to the point of foolishness. Her bed in the Hospital Wing would be tucked in the farthest corner, away from the others. That was Pomfrey’s rule. She’d wake with a sore body, bite marks on her lips, and a migraine pounding behind her eyes. And still, when he visited, she’d joke about looking better than he did.
Twelve moons. A full year.
He found the rose without much searching. Nestled among curling vines and amber-petaled blooms, the ivory rose stood tall, the stem long and elegant. Harry reached out, careful not to crush the leaves. There was something fitting about it - ivory, like snow. Like silence. It meant thoughtfulness, Hermione had told him once, and charm.
It was the only thing he could do for her that felt like it mattered.
The stem pricked his thumb. He hissed softly, watching the bead of blood rise. A reminder: this wasn’t harmless. None of it was.
He tucked the rose gently into his sleeve and stepped out into the courtyard, the sunlight too bright, slicing across the stone like broken glass. He didn’t see Malfoy until he turned toward the path back to the castle.
“Potter,” came that drawling, poison-laced voice. “Out for a romantic stroll with the flowers? How sweet.”
Harry didn’t stop walking. “Buzz off, Malfoy.”
But Draco matched his pace, smirking. “Funny thing, though. I’ve been noticing something strange for a while. You and Anderson. Always whispering. Always around during the wrong times of the month.”
Harry stopped dead.
Draco's eyes lit up with satisfaction.
“You know, I was up late last night. Couldn't sleep. Heard the fifth floor window slam open around midnight. Howling, Potter.” He leaned closer. “Not from the forest. From the castle.”
Harry’s fists clenched, thumb pressing into the cut from earlier.
“Maybe I should tell Dumbledore,” Draco said, mock-pensively. “After all, it’s a bit dangerous, don’t you think? Letting a creature like that wander the halls. It would probably kill us all.”
“ She’ s not a creature,” Harry snapped, the words tearing from his throat before he could stop them. “She’s not a full werewolf, Malfoy - she’s only half, and-”
Silence.
Horror bloomed in his chest a moment too late.
Draco’s eyebrows lifted.
“Well, well, Potter,” he said softly, venom gleaming in every syllable. “Half a werewolf, is she? That explains a lot.”
“Forget what I said,” Harry said quickly. “You don’t know anything-”
“Oh, but I do now.” Draco’s grin stretched wide. “A secret, hidden for months, right under everyone’s noses. How very... tragic.”
Harry reached for his wand. “If you say anything-”
“You’ll do what? Hex me?” Malfoy laughed. “Go ahead. But it won’t un-say what you’ve already done, hero. Maybe next time, don’t betray the very girl you claim to care about.”
He turned and walked away, his cloak flaring behind him.
Harry stood rooted in place, the rose now crushed in his fist.
********************
The Hospital Wing was silent when he stepped inside, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock above the fireplace. Ariel was asleep, her brow furrowed even in rest. Her arm had a few scratches, bruises blooming along her jaw, and one of her curls stuck to her cheek with sweat.
He approached slowly, the ivory rose trembling in his grip.
It felt wrong now. Tainted.
Still, he placed it gently on the table beside her bed. He didn’t speak. Didn’t touch her. Just looked at her for one long, unbearable moment before turning away.
********************
When Ariel finally sat up, the sun was high and her head was splitting. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes, the kind that clung for hours after the full moon. The sterile quiet of the Hospital Wing was almost comforting - familiar now. Pomfrey had already left a glass of water and some bitter-tasting potion by her bedside, as always.
She reached for it with a sigh, wincing at the stretch in her ribs. Her fingers brushed something soft - ivory petals. A rose.
Her chest clenched. She knew who it was from.
Harry.
She should’ve smiled. Should’ve felt that tiny, foolish flutter she always did when she thought of him - the one that made Ginny roll her eyes and Hermione smirk knowingly. But today, something felt... off. The petals looked bruised. The stem bent.
She pushed it away gently, suddenly unsure what to feel.
********************
Madam Pomfrey discharged her by noon. Ariel dressed slowly, her movements stiff and aching, and walked out into a world too bright and too loud. In the corridors, students parted around her with careful, sidelong glances. She caught whispers trailing behind her like threads of fog.
“Did you hear-?”
“Some girl. Apparently she’s a monster or something.”
“No idea who. They’re keeping it quiet.”
“Bet it’s another cover-up. Typical Hogwarts.”
Ariel’s steps faltered.
She kept walking, forcing her face blank. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, loud enough to drown out the rest. Monster. That word used to sting - now it barely scraped the surface. She told herself it was probably nothing. Probably about someone else. There were always rumors. Always shadows.
It wasn’t about her. Couldn’t be.
She rounded the corner near the library, distracted by the haze in her head, when she slammed into someone hard. She stumbled back, her hand bracing against the wall, just as the familiar, ice-slick voice curled around her.
“Well, well,” drawled Draco Malfoy, brushing off his robes like her touch had stained them. “If it isn’t Hogwarts’ own little charity case.”
Ariel straightened, jaw tight. “Move, Malfoy.”
He didn’t. He stepped in closer, his smirk widening.
“You know, I always wondered what made Potter and his little fan club so fond of you. Mudblood? Check. Dead mum? Check. Daddy in and out of Muggle St. Mungo’s like a revolving door? Check. It’s like you’re collecting tragedies for attention.”
Ariel’s breath caught. Her pulse spiked with a sharp, hot flash of anger and shame.
He tilted his head. “Oh, did that sting? Poor Ariel. Tell me - does your father even recognize you anymore? Or is he too far gone to know his daughter is still wasting her time pretending she belongs here?”
“Shut up.”
“Touchy,” he said mockingly. “But it makes sense. Someone like you doesn’t belong in a school like this. Not with us. You’re not just a filthy Mudblood - you’re broken. Rotten from the inside out.”
She tried to push past him, but he moved in her path, close now, voice lowering into something colder.
“Of course, that’s not the real reason you’re keeping your distance lately, is it?” he murmured, eyes glittering. “It’s not the tragic orphan story. It’s the secret you’ve been hiding since third year.”
Ariel froze.
He leaned in, and for a moment she smelled something sharp on his breath - like scorched metal and satisfaction.
“You’re not just a freak in name, Anderson. You’re something else. Something darker.” His smile curled like smoke. “Half-werewolf.”
The words hit her like a curse.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper, every word laced with venom. “A little scratch, and now look at you. I wonder - do you salivate when you hear screaming? Do your friends know how close you’ve come to turning on them in the dark? Do they know you’re not safe to be around?”
Ariel’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Draco grinned wider, triumphant.
“I bet you dream about it, don’t you? Sinking your teeth into something warm. Ripping into someone who doesn’t pity you. That’s what you really want. Admit it.”
“Stop it,” she whispered.
“Why?” he breathed. “Too close to the truth? Don’t worry - I'm sure Dumbledore has a nice leash waiting for you. Or maybe Azkaban. They like things in cages there. It’s where monsters belong.”
That shattered her.
She turned and ran.
********************
The cold tiles bit into her palms as she slammed through the door and stumbled into the second-floor girls' bathroom, breath ragged, heart crashing against her ribs. She barely made it to the farthest sink before her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, curling in on herself as if it would make her smaller, harder to hit, harder to see.
The word monster echoed in her skull like a curse.
Mudblood. Broken. Half-werewolf. Azkaban.
She pressed her fists to her ears like she could block it all out - Malfoy's words, her heartbeat, the sound of her own breath hitching in her throat. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and useless, and she hated them. Hated that he got to her. Hated that she couldn’t stop it.
You’re not safe to be around.
You’re something darker.
You dream about it.
“No I don’t,” she gasped, speaking to no one, to herself. “No I don’t, I never-I never-”
“I always cry in here too,” came a soft, watery voice from the far stall.
Ariel flinched.
Moaning Myrtle.
The ghost hovered through the wall a moment later, peering down at Ariel with a worried expression. “Oh no… someone made you cry again ? What is it this time? Boy troubles? Friends abandoning you? Want me to flood the bathroom and drown them all?”
Ariel let out a shaking, bitter laugh, wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Not unless you can drown Malfoy.”
“Oh,” Myrtle said, her voice darkening. “ Him. That nasty little ferret was talking to Harry this morning. Right near the greenhouses.”
Ariel looked up sharply. “What?”
Myrtle floated down, twirling through the air with a dramatic sigh. “I was watching through the pipes. It’s the only fun I get, you know. Harry said something , and Draco looked very, very pleased. Like he’d just been given a new toy to break.”
Ariel’s stomach turned.
“Myrtle. What did Harry say?”
“Oh, I didn’t catch every word,” Myrtle said, spinning lazily. “But he looked upset. He was holding a rose, and Draco - well, he said something about howling. Harry told him something important. Something he wasn’t supposed to.”
Ariel’s breath caught.
No.
“I think it was about a girl,” Myrtle said, her voice suddenly more curious than sad. “A girl with a secret. And Draco found out.”
The air around Ariel went still.
And then the floor might as well have dropped out from beneath her.
Harry told him.
Harry.
The one person she thought would never say a word. The one she’d trusted with everything - with the secret that haunted her sleep, the scar on her ribs, the part of herself she could never run from. Her best friend. The boy who danced with her at the Yule Ball, who let her fall asleep on his shoulder, who called her brave when she felt anything but.
The boy who kissed her hand after her last full moon.
He betrayed her.
Her grief twisted into fury.
White-hot, bone-deep rage surged through her, burning away everything else.
She stood abruptly, shoulders trembling, breath heaving in and out like smoke. Myrtle opened her mouth to say something else, but Ariel was already shoving the door open, storming down the corridor like a force of nature.
The word betrayal rang in her mind louder than any spell.
********************
The sun was warm and golden, dappling the flagstones of the courtyard as laughter drifted on the breeze.
Harry sat on the edge of the fountain, flanked by Ron and Hermione. Ginny, Luna, and Neville were sprawled nearby on the grass. Stephanie was perched dramatically on the bench, mid-rant about how she'd accidentally hexed her own hair blue in Charms, and Anna was rolling her eyes in dry amusement.
It was one of those rare moments of ease - just students, just summer air, just a brief breath before the storm of the Third Task.
Harry was smiling. Genuinely. Laughing, even.
He didn’t see her coming.
The click of her boots on stone silenced everything.
Ariel marched into the courtyard like a thunderclap, eyes dark and storming, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Her fists were shaking at her sides, and she didn’t stop walking until she stood directly in front of Harry.
He looked up, confused. “Ariel?”
And she slapped him.
Gasps rippled around them. Hermione stood up so fast she knocked over her ink bottle. Ron’s mouth dropped open. Stephanie whispered “Holy hell.” under her breath.
Harry reeled back, hand to his cheek.
“What the hell-?”
“How could you,” Ariel whispered, voice ragged with betrayal. “ How could you tell him? ”
Harry blinked. “Tell who-?”
“ DRACO. ” Her voice cracked like lightning. “Don’t play dumb. You told Malfoy about me.”
Realization dawned too late on Harry’s face. “I-I didn’t mean to-Ariel, I-”
“Didn’t mean to?” she snapped. “You didn't mean to ? It just slipped out, did it? Like a joke? Like I’m not a person, just another one of your secrets to spill when things get hard?”
“I was trying to protect you-”
“BY HANDING ME OVER TO HIM ?” she screamed, her voice echoing off the courtyard walls. “HE CALLED ME A MONSTER! HE SAID I BELONGED IN AZKABAN! You gave that to him, Harry! You gave him the one thing I was terrified to share with anyone!”
Everyone was staring now. Students from nearby corridors were spilling into the courtyard, drawn by the noise.
Harry stood, his face pale, hands raised. “Ariel, I swear, I wasn’t thinking. He was baiting me and I
I slipped up. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Her laugh was like broken glass. “You think sorry is enough? You were supposed to be my best friend. You were the one person I thought I could trust. ”
Harry’s face hardened, wounded pride flickering behind his eyes. “I’ve been there for you all year. I watched you tear yourself apart every full moon and I stayed. I cared. Don’t act like I meant for this to happen.”
She stepped closer, eyes burning. “You didn’t mean to destroy me, you just did it anyway.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have kept secrets that dangerous if you didn’t want them to come out!”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Ariel froze.
Silence.
Cold.
Thick.
Choking.
She stared at him like she didn’t recognize him anymore.
And then she said, low and trembling:
“You know what, Harry? I hope your parents are happy they’re dead. Because at least they don’t have to see what you’ve become.”
Hermione gasped.
Harry staggered back like he’d been punched.
His expression cracked open - not with anger, but something deeper. Something worse.
And then he said it. Quiet, vicious.
“Well maybe if your mother hadn’t died, she could’ve taught you how to not turn into a bloodthirsty freak. But hey - guess the apple didn’t fall far, did it? Your dad’s rotting away and you’re out here pretending you’re human.”
The silence after that wasn’t shocked.
It was dead.
Ariel’s hands dropped to her sides. Her heart stopped. And whatever was left between them - that thread of something unspoken, something soft and dangerous - snapped.
She took a step back. Then another. Then she turned and walked away.
And Harry didn’t follow.
********************
From the shadows, Draco Malfoy leaned against a pillar, arms folded, a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.
“Well,” he murmured to no one in particular. “That was better than I hoped.”
********************
Later, their friends tried to talk to them - separately, gently. Hermione pleaded. Ron raged. Ginny nearly cried. Luna wrote Ariel a poem about stars that drift too far apart. Stephanie baked her lopsided muffins. Even Anna tried to mend their relationship.
None of it worked.
Because some things couldn’t be fixed with kindness. Some things broke so deeply, there was no map back to before.
Ariel stopped looking at Harry in the corridors.
Harry stopped sitting near Ariel in the Common Room.
They stopped speaking.
They stopped hoping.
The castle felt colder.
And the Third Task was only twelve days away.
********************
It didn’t take long for the story to spread.
By the next morning, everyone knew.
The courtyard fight was the stuff of Hogwarts legend now - retold with extra drama, warped quotes, and exaggerated gestures. Some said Ariel had hexed Harry. Others claimed Harry had cursed her first. But one thing was consistent: it was loud, it was brutal, and it was final.
And Malfoy? He was having the time of his life.
He started small - loud whispers when Ariel passed by, pointed smirks in Harry’s direction during meals. But then he got bolder.
He passed Harry in the corridor and said, “Rough week, Potter? Guess your little pet turned on you. Should’ve kept her on a leash.”
To Ariel, he’d see her in the hallway and nearly shout, “I always knew you’d end up alone. Monsters usually do.”
The Slytherins and Ravenclaws laughed. A few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, too.
********************
It started with whispers.
“She’s dangerous.”
“She hid it from everyone.”
“I heard she bit someone in second year.”
“Half-werewolf means half-animal. She’s not like us.”
Then came the glances. The flinching. The way students moved aside when Ariel walked past, like she carried some invisible infection.
In Care of Magical Creatures, someone threw a chunk of raw meat at her when Hagrid’s back was turned.
“You missed your breakfast, beast,” a Gryffindor snickered. Not one Ariel recognized.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t speak. She just stared at the bloody meat on the ground, jaw clenched, hands trembling.
In Defense class, the whispering didn’t stop.
“Bet she doesn’t need a wand.”
“She probably transforms when she’s angry.”
“She’ll snap one day, you’ll see.”
Someone scratched the word FREAK into her desk.
Someone else drew claw marks on her textbook.
McGonagall erased them, but her eyes were sad when they met Ariel’s.
********************
She stopped speaking in class.
Stopped laughing.
Stopped correcting Luna when she misquoted Arithmancy formulas.
Stephanie tried. God, she tried.
“C’mon, Ariel, you want to sit with us?”
“No.”
“Want to talk?”
“No.”
“Okay, but if you ever-”
“I said no.”
Anna took it better.
“Everyone’s a disappointment eventually,” she said, tossing Ariel a Chocolate Frog one night. “Some just do it louder.”
Ariel didn’t eat it.
She didn’t eat much of anything anymore.
She stopped brushing her curls.
Stopped making jokes.
Stopped meeting Ginny’s eyes when she passed in the halls.
And when someone asked her if she was okay - some Hufflepuff who probably meant well - Ariel didn’t respond at all.
She just looked at them.
And they flinched.
********************
Anger.
It was the only emotion that stayed.
Anger burned low in her chest like coals, quiet but constant. Every cruel word from Malfoy, every betrayal-heavy stare from the other students, every hesitant question from a teacher who didn’t want to get involved - it all fed the fire.
She snapped at Luna when she brought her flowers.
She hexed a Ravenclaw boy who made a comment about her eyes "going wolfy."
She nearly punched a second-year who barked at her as a joke.
She wanted to scream. To tear something apart.
But instead, she bottled it.
She needed to bottle it. Because if she let it out, she wasn’t sure what would happen.
Not even her friends could reach her now.
Ron gave up first.
Hermione stopped pushing. Stephnaie stopped cracking jokes
Ginny lingered the longest - but even she eventually let the silence settle between them.
Only Luna and Anna still smiled when she saw Ariel. But even they started doing it from a distance.
********************
And Harry?
Harry didn’t look at her anymore.
Which was fine.
Because when Ariel looked at him, all she saw was the boy who broke her open and handed her pieces to her enemies.
She didn’t miss him.
Not really.
Not at all.
********************
She was twelve.
And somehow already felt older than the castle walls.
It hadn’t always been like this. There had been warmth once - late-night pillow fights in the dorms with Ginny and Luna, whispered jokes under the covers, afternoons spent sprawled on the Gryffindor common room floor doing homework with Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
She’d never minded being the youngest in the group. If anything, she wore it like a badge of honor. She kept up , held her own, made them laugh. Harry had never treated her like a kid. If anything, he’d listened more than anyone. Looked at her like she mattered.
But now?
Now she was just a rumor.
A monster. A mistake.
Whispers followed her like a shadow. “Half-werewolf.” “Bitten.” “Not safe.”
And being a third-year only made it worse.
The older students were bolder about it. Fifth-years sneered. Fourth-years - her own common room - stopped talking when she entered. Some second-years stared like they expected her to sprout claws in the hallway. A first-year cried when she sat near him at breakfast.
Even teachers seemed unsure what to do with her now.
She hadn’t been dangerous last week. But now?
Now they watched her.
Now they waited.
And she knew - God, she knew - that any wrong move would confirm what they all already believed: that she wasn’t safe. That she was a ticking clock with teeth. That she was just another cursed name Hogwarts would eventually whisper into its stone.
But the thing they didn’t understand was this:
She wasn’t scared of them.
Not anymore.
She was angry.
Blistering, festering, furious . Every cruel laugh, every scratch of “freak” on her books, every sideways glance in the corridors - it added to the pressure building in her chest. But she didn’t let it out. Not yet. Not even with Ginny or Luna, who still hovered quietly nearby, unsure what version of her they were allowed to speak to now.
She bottled it. All of it.
Because if she let it go, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
And if she saw Harry again - really saw him - she didn’t know whether she’d scream or sob or shatter.
So she stayed quiet.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. She didn’t run.
She just sharpened her silence into something that could cut.
Because if the world was going to call her a monster-
She might start becoming one.
********************
Some mornings, Harry forgot it had all fallen apart.
His brain played cruel tricks - made him reach for a seat beside her in meal times, made him glance at the end of the table expecting her sharp remarks about Ron’s table manners or Hermione’s color-coded notes. For a moment, everything felt normal.
Then reality caught up.
She wasn’t talking to him.
She wasn’t laughing with anyone.
She wasn’t there - not really.
He missed her like a phantom limb.
And it was his fault.
It was always his fault.
He’d think back to the greenhouses, to the weight of those words tumbling from his mouth like an avalanche. He didn’t even remember how he phrased it. Just the look in Draco’s eyes. The horror in his own chest when he realized.
You betrayed her.
And then the courtyard. Her voice shaking with fury. Her words about his parents. His words about hers.
Harry had never hated himself more than in that moment.
He didn’t know what they were to each other before the fight - not really. Friends? Best friends? Something almost more?
He hadn’t known what to call it then.
Now he knew what it felt like.
Loss.
********************
That night, he fell asleep fitful and twitching, forehead damp with sweat.
They were by the lake. The sun was warm, the sky impossibly blue.
Ariel was laughing - really laughing - the kind that made her scrunch her nose and double over. Harry was half-laughing, half-out of breath, having just tripped over his own robes while chasing a charmed Chocolate Frog she’d thrown into the air “for science.”
“Honestly,” she grinned, brushing grass off his shoulder. “How are you supposed to survive a magical maze if a piece of candy can outwit you?”
“Low blow,” he said, grinning back.
They were lying in the grass now. Side by side. Hands close. Shoulders touching.
The silence was warm. Easy.
She turned her head, her voice suddenly soft. “You okay?”
Harry nodded, but didn’t answer right away.
Then: “I don’t want this to end.”
She smiled. “Then don’t let it.”
She leaned in - not for a kiss, but a hug. She wrapped her arms around him tight, and he held her back, burying his face into her neck like he could live there.
But then-
She stiffened.
He pulled back.
And that’s when he saw the knife in her back. His knife. His hand still holding the hilt.
Her eyes were wide. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Blood bloomed across her back.
She crumpled in his arms.
“ Ariel- ” he choked out, horror consuming him.
But she was already gone.
********************
He jerked awake, gasping.
His skin was slick with sweat. His chest ached like someone had driven something straight through it.
He stumbled out of bed, shoving open the door to the bathroom, and gripped the sink like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His reflection looked pale, sickly, eyes wide and rimmed red.
He bent forward, trying to breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
His hands shook under the cold water. He splashed it on his face, over and over, hoping it would shock the guilt out of his system, hoping it would rewind time, hoping he’d wake up again and she’d be beside him.
She wasn’t.
She wouldn’t be.
And the worst part?
He didn’t even know what he felt anymore.
Only that whatever it was, it went deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. Deeper than fear. Deeper than shame.
He missed her.
He needed her.
And he might’ve even loved her.
Though he wouldn’t dare say it out loud.
Not now. Not after what he’d done.
********************
The corridor was crowded with students moving between classes, but somehow the air around Ariel felt empty - heavy and charged, like a storm about to break.
She was walking fast, head down, clutching her books to her chest when a voice cut through the buzz of footsteps and chatter.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the little half-werewolf.”
A sharp intake of breath. Ariel froze.
There, leaning against the stone wall with that smug, cruel grin, was Cassian Rowle - a fifth-year Slytherin known for his venomous barbs and his taste for tormenting anyone who looked weaker.
“Don’t tell me you’re still pretending you belong here,” Cassian said, stepping closer. His sneer was a knife in her side. “Mother dead, father sick. Mudblood. Half-monster. What’s next? Do you howl at the moon or bite your friends?”
The words hit her like ice water, seeping into every nerve ending.
People started to gather, sensing the brewing confrontation. Whispers rippled like wildfire.
Ariel’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
She wanted to turn and run - but her feet stayed rooted. Instead, something snapped inside her. Years of silence, shame, and fury boiled over.
Before anyone could stop her, Ariel lashed out. Her fist shot forward, striking Cassian squarely across the jaw.
The corridor went dead silent.
Cassian staggered back, hand flying to his face, eyes wide with shock.
“ You little freak! ” he spat, glaring.
But Ariel didn’t care. Her chest heaved with adrenaline and rage.
Cassian’s sneer twisted into surprise as Ariel’s fist connected again, harder this time, her anger burning so fiercely she barely noticed the sharp sting in her knuckles.
“Don’t… call me… a monster,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
She kicked out, catching him off balance. He stumbled, almost falling against the cold stone wall.
Her heart pounded fiercely, each strike releasing years of bottled-up rage and pain.
“Say it again and I swear-”
“Enough!” A sharp voice cut through the tension. Hermione’s and Ron’s faces appeared, rushing to pull her back.
Breathing hard, Ariel tore her gaze from Cassian’s stunned, bloody lip to Hermione’s worried eyes.
“Let me go,” she growled. “He deserves it.”
Ron’s hand stayed firm on her shoulder. “You’ve done enough. Let’s get out of here before this gets worse.”
Reluctantly, Ariel let herself be led away, her chest tight with humiliation and fury.
The whispers didn’t stop.
They only got louder.
********************
After that day, Ariel became even quieter.
The anger was still there, like a coiled storm beneath her skin, but she learned to hide it better.
Her smiles vanished, replaced by a hard, distant glare.
She stopped joining group study sessions.
Her voice became a rare thing-only used when necessary.
She was building walls.
And no one, not even Harry, was close enough to see how deep the cracks ran.
********************
Meanwhile, Harry’s world was shrinking.
Gone were the evenings spent laughing with Ginny, Luna, Stephanie, Anna, or even Ariel.
Now, it was only Ron and Hermione.
They were his constant, his anchor.
Hermione organized training schedules and planned spells Harry needed to master.
Ron paced, restless and fierce, coaching Harry through mental endurance exercises and strategy discussions.
“You’ve got to keep your head in the game,” Ron said one evening, frustration lining his voice. “If you let everything else distract you, you’re done for.”
Hermione added softly, “The maze is dangerous, Harry. You’ll face illusions, traps… and the dragons aren’t the only challenge. You have to be ready for anything.”
Harry nodded but sometimes, when they weren’t looking, his mind drifted.
He missed the easy warmth of his friends’ smiles.
The playful teasing.
The sense of belonging.
He felt a growing emptiness - like something important had been torn out and no one could put it back.
********************
The library was nearly empty-just the flicker of candlelight and the soft rustle of pages.
Harry walked between the shelves, nerves knotted tight in his chest.
He saw her then-Ariel. Sitting alone at a corner table, head bent over a thick book. Her brown hair caught the light, but the glow didn’t reach her eyes. They were shadowed, distant.
Without thinking, Harry reached out and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
She looked up.
For a moment, his chest lifted-her eyes still held something soft beneath the pain.
Then something in her gaze shifted-cold, sharp, full of everything he’d done wrong.
The smile faltered on his lips.
And before she could speak, he turned and ran.
The weight of betrayal crushed down on him, hot and heavy, choking.
********************
Later, hoping to find some normalcy, Harry sought out Stephanie.
“Hey, Stephanie, you got a minute?”
She glanced at him, expression unreadable.
“Sorry, Harry. Busy.”
And with that, she turned away.
Next, he found Luna and Ginny by the window.
“Hey, how’s everything?”
They smiled politely but the distance in their eyes was unmistakable.
“Fine,” Ginny said softly.
“Good luck with the Third Task,” Luna added, voice gentle but formal.
No warmth. No real connection.
Anna, sitting nearby with her usual sarcastic smirk, caught Harry’s eye.
She shrugged.
“You really screwed up, Potter.”
No sugarcoating.
No excuses.
But at least she talked to him.
********************
The hallways of Hogwarts, once a place of hurried chatter and familiar faces, had grown cold and hostile for Ariel. Whispers followed her wherever she went, like shadows twisting around her steps.
“Angry Ariel,” they called her. Not just a nickname, but a warning.
It wasn’t long before the whispers turned to confrontations.
One afternoon, near the entrance to the library, a group of fifth-year Ravenclaws crossed her path.
Beatriz la Cruz, a tall, sneering girl with pale eyes, stepped forward. “What’s the matter, half-blood? Need someone to fight for you?”
Ariel’s jaw tightened. She said nothing. But the silence didn’t save her.
Beatriz shoved her roughly. “What, too angry to talk back? Everyone knows your secret. Half-werewolf, half-monster. Not fit to be here.”
A mixture of anger and humiliation surged through her veins.
Before anyone could react, Ariel’s fist shot out, connecting hard with Beatriz’s jaw. The crack echoed.
She staggered back, stunned.
Fury fueled her next movements. She kicked fiercely at her shins, catching her off-guard again.
The fight escalated quickly. Shouts rang out as teachers rushed toward the scene, but Ariel kept going - punching, kicking - letting her bottled-up rage explode with every strike.
Beatriz fell to the ground, holding her cheek, eyes wide with shock.
When the teachers finally separated them, Ariel was breathing hard, fists bruised, cheeks flushed with a mixture of pain and release.
Afterward, the school buzzed louder than ever with rumors about the violent outburst, the girl no one wanted to cross.
From that day on, her silence grew thicker.
Words became sharp, clipped.
Her eyes hardened.
Only anger remained visible - a shield against a world that seemed eager to break her.
Notes:
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
i regret nothing.
Chapter 16: Chapter 16
Notes:
we're nearly at the end!!!!!
Chapter Text
The day of the third and final task dawned bright and clear.
Students and visitors poured into the Hogwarts grounds to watch the champions face the challenge that awaited in the maze.
The stands were filled with faces-friends, families, and curious onlookers.
Harry scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces.
Molly Weasley was there, standing beside Bill, both watching him with anxious pride.
But one person he searched for was not there: Ariel.
Her usual seat in the crowd was empty.
He swallowed hard, the absence feeling heavier than any roar from the crowd.
The stands around the maze buzzed with nervous energy as the champions prepared.
Professor Dumbledore stood to address the crowd, his calm voice cutting through the chatter.
“Good morning, students and guests,” he said. “Today marks the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. The champions will enter the maze, face many challenges, and try to reach the Triwizard Cup.”
He paused, eyes twinkling.
“May the best witch or wizard win.”
********************
The crowd roared as Harry and Cedric approached the maze entrance.
The hedges were tall and dense, twisting and curling like some giant living creature.
The signal horn sounded sharply.
Cedric and Harry stepped inside.
The air was thick and still.
They moved cautiously, senses alert.
Soon, Harry rounded a corner and froze - a dark shape shifted ahead.
A boggart!
The creature twisted and warped, then changed into a dementor, its cold, soul-sucking presence filling the corridor.
Harry raised his wand instinctively.
“Expecto Patronum!” he cried.
A silver stag burst forth from his wand, charging the dementor away.
Harry gasped for breath and pressed onward.
Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed through the maze - it was Fleur.
She had been taken out of the tournament.
********************
Harry pressed forward deeper into the maze.
The walls suddenly shifted, narrowing as if alive.
They pressed in on him, squeezing his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The world tipped upside down, the maze twisting his senses.
He took a step forward with force and suddenly fell, landing hard on the ground.
It was the golden mist.
Wiping dust from his face, Harry flicked his wand.
“Lumos Maxima!”
The light remained steady, casting a glow that helped him see through the twisting paths.
Ahead, a monstrous Blast-Ended Skrewt charged at him.
Harry dodged, barely avoiding its fiery blasts.
He raised his wand and fired spells, but the creature was relentless.
A sharp claw grazed Harry’s arm, leaving a burning gash.
Grimacing, he stumbled on.
********************
Soon, Harry found himself facing a sphinx.
Its eyes gleamed with intelligence as it posed a riddle:
“First think of the person who lives in disguise,
Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.
Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,
The middle of middle and end of the end?
And finally, give me the sound often heard
During the search for a hard-to-find word.”
Harry thought hard.
“Uhm… who lives in disguise ….oh a SPY! And the sound often heard ….er… oh spider !”
The sphinx nodded and stepped aside.
********************
Further on, Harry found Viktor Krum standing over Cedric, who was writhing in pain, the Cruciatus Curse burned into him.
Krum snarled and raised his wand.
“Harry, no!” Cedric shouted, trying to swallow down his screams.
But Harry was ready.
“Stupefy!” he shouted, striking Krum hard.
Krum collapsed, unconscious.
Harry raised his wand high and sent red sparks into the sky, signaling to the teachers that Krum could no longer continue.
********************
Together, Harry and Cedric pressed on, soon facing a massive Acromantula.
The giant spider lunged.
Harry and Cedric fought side by side, exchanging spells and dodging fangs.
Finally, the spider retreated, wounded.
********************
They came upon the Triwizard Cup, gleaming golden in the heart of the maze.
Both reached for it at the same time.
They argued briefly about who should claim it.
Finally, they clasped it together.
Suddenly, the world twisted and blurred.
********************
Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head. “Where are we?” he said. Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around. They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles - perhaps hundreds of miles - for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.
“Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?” he asked.
“Nope,” said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. “Is this supposed to be part of the task?”
“I dunno,” said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. “Wands out, d’you reckon?”
“Yeah,” said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.
They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.
“Someone’s coming,” he said suddenly.
Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn’t make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And - several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time - Harry saw that the thing in the person’s arms looked like a baby . . . or was it merely a bundle of robes?
Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.
It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.
And then, without warning, Harry’s scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open.
From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, “ Kill the spare .”
A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: “ Avada Kedavra !”
A blast of green light blazed through Harry’s eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes.
Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him.
He was dead.
For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric’s face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. And then, before Harry’s mind had accepted what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet.
The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry toward the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before he was forced around and slammed against it.
The name was TOM RIDDLE .
The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the man hit him - hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Harry realized who was under the hood. It was Wormtail.
“You!” he gasped.
But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn’t move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry’s mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn’t make a sound, nor could he see where Wormtail had gone; he couldn’t turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could see only what was right in front of him.
Cedric’s body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. Harry’s wand was on the ground at Cedric’s feet. The bundle of robes that Harry had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. Harry watched it, and his scar seared with pain again . . . and he suddenly knew that he didn’t want to see what was in those robes . . . he didn’t want that bundle opened. . . .
He could hear noises at his feet. He looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. Wormtail’s fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within Harry’s range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water - Harry could hear it slopping around - and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full grown man to sit in.
The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness.
The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And Harry heard the high, cold voice again.
“Hurry!”
The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.
“It is ready, Master.”
“Now . . .” said the cold voice.
Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth.
It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.
The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail’s neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Harry saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail’s weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Harry saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Harry heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.
“ Let it drown ”, Harry thought, his scar burning almost past endurance, please . . . let it drown. . . .
Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.
“ Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son! ”
The surface of the grave at Harry’s feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.
And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.
“ Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master. ”
He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.
Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened - he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream that pierced the night, that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail’s anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Harry couldn’t stand to look . . . but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through Harry’s closed eyelids. . . .
Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until Harry felt Wormtail’s anguished breath on his face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of him.
“ B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken . . . you will . . . resurrect your foe. ”
Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly. . . . Squinting down, struggling helplessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail’s remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry’s cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.
He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry’s blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.
The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened. . . .
“ Let it have drowned ,” Harry thought, “ Let it have gone wrong. . . . ”
And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn’t see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air.
“ . . . It’s gone wrong, ” he thought “ . . . it’s drowned . . . please . . . please let it be dead. . . . ”
But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
“Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master’s head.
The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry . . . and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake’s with slits for nostrils . . .
Lord Voldemort had risen again.
Chapter 17: Chapter 17
Notes:
im spoiling you lot too much..
Chapter Text
Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat’s, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling Harry again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.
Wormtail’s robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.
“My Lord . . .” he choked, “my Lord . . . you promised . . . you did promise . . .”
“Hold out your arm,” said Voldemort lazily.
“Oh Master . . . thank you, Master . . .”
He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.
“The other arm, Wormtail.”
“Master, please . . . please . . .”
Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo - a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth - the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail’s uncontrollable weeping.
“It is back,” he said softly, “they will all have noticed it . . . and now, we shall see . . . now we shall know . . .”
He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail’s arm.
The scar on Harry’s forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail’s mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black.
A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.
“How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?” he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?”
He began to pace up and down before Harry and Wormtail, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.
“You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool . . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. . . .”
Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass.
“You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. . . . He didn’t like magic, my father . . .
“He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him . . . I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle . . . .”
Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave.
“Listen to me, reliving family history . . .” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Harry! My true family returns. . . .”
The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward . . . slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes.
Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.
“Master . . . Master . . .” he murmured.
The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle’s grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.
“Welcome, Death Eaters,” said Voldemort quietly. “Thirteen years . . . thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. . . . We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we? ”
He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening. “I smell guilt,” he said. “There is a stench of guilt upon the air.”
A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare, to step back from him.
“I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! - and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?”
No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm. “And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. . . .
“And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proof of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?
“And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort . . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?”
At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them.
“It is a disappointment to me . . . I confess myself disappointed. . . .”
One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort’s feet.
“Master!” he shrieked, “Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!”
Voldemort began to laugh.
He raised his wand. “ Crucio! ” The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked; Harry was sure the sound must carry to the houses around. “. . . Let the police come, ” he thought desperately “ . . . anyone . . . anything . . . ”
Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.
“Get up, Avery,” said Voldemort softly. “Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years . . . I want thirteen years’ repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?”
He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob.
“You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master,” moaned Wormtail, “please, Master . . . please . . .”
“Yet you helped return me to my body,” said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. “Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me . . . and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers. . . .”
Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand’s wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail’s bleeding wrist.
Wormtail’s sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.
“My Lord,” he whispered. “Master . . . it is beautiful . . . thank you . . . thank you. . . .”
He scrambled forward on his feet and kissed the hems of Voldemort’s robes.
“May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail,” said Voldemort.
“No, my Lord . . . never, my Lord . . .”
Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the man on Wormtail’s right.
“Lucius, my slippery friend,” he whispered, halting before him.
“I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius. . . . Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay . . . but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?”
“My Lord, I was constantly on the alert,” came Lucius Malfoy’s voice swiftly from beneath the hood. “Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me -”
“And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?” said Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. “Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. . . . You have disappointed me. . . . I expect more faithful service in the future.”
“Of course, my Lord, of course. . . . You are merciful, thank you. . . .”
Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space - large enough for two people - that separated Malfoy and the next man.
“The Lestranges should stand here,” said Voldemort quietly.
“But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. . . . When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us . . . they are our natural allies . . . we will recall the banished giants . . . I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear. . . .”
He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.
“Macnair . . . destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide. . . .”
“Thank you, Master . . . thank you,” murmured Macnair.
“And here” - Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures - “we have Crabbe . . . you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?”
They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.
“Yes, Master . . .”
“We will, Master. . . .”
“The same goes for you, Nott,” said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyle’s shadow.
“My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful -”
“That will do,” said Voldemort. He had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there.
“And here we have six missing Death Eaters . . . three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return . . . he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever . . . he will be killed, of course . . . and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service.
The Death Eaters stirred, and Harry saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks.
“He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight. . . .
“Yes,” said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry’s direction. “Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor.”
There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy’s voice spoke from under the mask.
“Master, we crave to know . . . we beg you to tell us . . . how you have achieved this . . . this miracle . . . how you managed to return to us. . . .”
“Ah, what a story it is, Lucius,” said Voldemort. “And it begins - and ends - with my young friend here.”
He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. The snake continued to circle.
“You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?” Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. “You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him - and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. . . . I could not touch the boy.”
Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry’s cheek.
“His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice. . . . This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it . . . but no matter. I can touch him now.”
Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.
“I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman’s foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah . . . pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know . . . I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked . . . for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself . . . for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand. . . .
“I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist. . . . I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited. . . . Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me . . . one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body . . . but I waited in vain. . . .”
The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.
“Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic . . . and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long. . . .
“Then . . . four years ago . . . the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard - young, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of . . . for he was a teacher at Dumbledore’s school . . . he was easy to bend to my will . . . he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted . . . thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter. . . .”
Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Harry.
“The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been,” Voldemort continued. “I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn’t then fear that I might never regain my powers. . . . Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour . . . I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess . . . and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me. . . .”
One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice.
“And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last . . . a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted as friends, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding . . . helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them. . . .
“But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food . . . and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic.
“Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him - convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her . . . he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams . . . for - with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information.
“She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things . . . but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her.”
Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless.
“Wormtail’s body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth . . . a spell or two of my own invention . . . a little help from my dear Nagini,” Voldemort’s red eyes fell upon the continually circling snake, “a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided . . . I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel.
“There was no hope of stealing the Sorcerer’s Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower . . . I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength.
“I knew that to achieve this - it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight - I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant. . . .
“My father’s bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe . . . Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me . . . as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potter’s blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago . . . for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too. . . .
“But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy’s future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy’s protection as long as he is in his relatives' care. Not even I can touch him there. . . . Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup. . . . I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt to kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him?
“Why . . . by using Bertha Jorkins’s information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy’s name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament - that he touched the Triwizard Cup first - the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore’s help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is . . . the boy you all believed had been my downfall. . . .”
Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand.
“ Crucio! ”
It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end . . . to black out . . . to stop . . .
And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort’s father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters’ laughter.
“You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me,” said Voldemort. “But I want there to be no mistake in anybody’s mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini,” he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching.
“Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand.”
Chapter 18: Chapter 18
Chapter Text
Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone.
There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might have considered running for it, but his injured leg shook under him as he stood on the overgrown grave, as the Death Eaters closed ranks, forming a tighter circle around him and Voldemort, so that the gaps where the missing Death Eaters should have stood were filled. Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric’s body lay and returned with Harry’s wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry’s hand without looking at him. Then Wormtail resumed his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters.
“You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?” said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.
At these words Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the dueling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago. . . . All he had learned there was the Disarming Spell, “Expelliarmus” . . . and what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his wand, even if he could, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one? He had never learned anything that could possibly fit him for this. He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned . . . the unblockable Avada Kedavra curse - and Voldemort was right - his mother was not here to die for him this time. . . . He was quite unprotected. . . .
“We bow to each other, Harry,” said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. “Come, the niceties must be observed. . . Dumbledore would like you to show manners. . . . Bow to death, Harry. . . .”
The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort’s lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him . . . he was not going to give him that satisfaction. . . .
“I said, bow ,” Voldemort said, raising his wand - and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever. “Very good,” said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. “And now you face me, like a man . . . straight-backed and proud, the way your father died. . . .
“And now - we duel.”
Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was. . . . White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he’d ever screamed in his life -
And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.
A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, “a little pause . . . That hurt, didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, do you?”
Harry didn’t answer. He was going to die like Cedric, those pitiless red eyes were telling him so . . . he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. . . but he wasn’t going to play along. He wasn’t going to obey Voldemort . . . he wasn’t going to beg. . . .
“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! Imperio! ”
And Harry felt the sensation that his mind had been wiped of all thought. . . . Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as though he were floating, dreaming . . . just answer no . . . say no . . . just answer no. . . .
I will not, said a stronger voice, in the back of his head, I won’t answer. . . .
Just answer no. . . .
I won’t do it, I won’t say it. . . .
Just answer no. . . .
“I WON’T!” And these words burst from Harry’s mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him - back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body - back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing. . . .
“You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now. “You won’t say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die. . . . Perhaps another little dose of pain?”
Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort’s father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him.
“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. “You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then . . . it will be quick . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died. . . .”
Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. There was no hope . . . no help to be had. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort’s feet . . . he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible. . .
Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone, Harry stood up . . . he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort.
Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, “ Expelliarmus! ” Voldemort cried, “ Avada Kedavra !”
A jet of green light issued from Voldemort’s wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry’s - they met in midair - and suddenly Harry’s wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn’t have released it if he’d wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort’s long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.
And then - nothing could have prepared Harry for this - he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort’s father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves. . . . The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands -
The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now. . . .
“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry’s; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.
And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air. . . . It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song.
It was the sound of hope to Harry . . . the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life. . . . He felt as though the song were inside him instead of just around him. . . . It was the sound he connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear. . . .
Don’t break the connection.
I know, Harry told the music, I know I mustn’t . . . but no sooner had he thought it, than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever . . . and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too . . . it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands - Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way. . . . The direction of the beam’s movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily. . . .
As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry’s wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry’s wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers -
He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed . . . and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort’s wand that was vibrating extra-hard now . . . Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful. . . .
One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort’s wand. Harry didn’t understand why he was doing it, didn’t know what it might achieve . . . but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort’s wand . . . and slowly . . . very slowly . . . it moved along the golden thread . . . it trembled for a moment. . . and then it connected. . . .
At once, Voldemort’s wand began to emit echoing screams of pain . . . then -Voldemort’s red eyes widened with shock -a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished . . . the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail . . . more shouts of pain . . . and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. . . . It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory.
If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory ( was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.
“Hold on Harry,” it said.
Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort . . . his wide red eyes were still shocked . . . he had no more expected this than Harry had . . . and, very dimly, Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome. . . .
More screams of pain from the wand . . . and then something else emerged from its tip . . . the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso . . . an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done . . . and his ghost, or his shadow, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric’s, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick. . . .
“He was a real wizard, then?” the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. “Killed me, that one did. . . . You fight him, boy. . . .”
But already, yet another head was emerging . . . and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman’s. . . . Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring. . . .
The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.
“Don’t let go, now!” she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedric’s as though from very far away. “Don’t let him get you, Harry -don’t let go!”
She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it . . . and Voldemort’s dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn’t hear to Voldemort.
And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort’s wand . . . and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be . . . he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand . . . knew, because the woman was the one he’d thought of more than any other tonight. . . .
The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him . . . and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother.
“Your father’s coming . . .” she said quietly. “Hold on for your father . . . it will be alright . . . hold on. . . .”
And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall and untidy-hair like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort’s wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear. . . .
“When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments . . . but we will give you time . . . you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts . . . do you understand, Harry?”
“Yes,” Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.
“Harry . . .” whispered the figure of Cedric, “take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents. . . .”
“I will,” said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand.
“Do it now,” whispered his father’s voice, “be ready to run . . . do it now. . . .”
“NOW!” Harry yelled; he didn’t think he could have held on for another moment anyway -he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died -but the shadowy figures of Voldemort’s victims did not disappear -they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze -
And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones -he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric’s body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do -
“ Stun him! ” he heard Voldemort scream.
Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel -
“ Impedimenta !” he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.
From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grab Cedric’s arm -
“Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!” shrieked Voldemort. Harry’s hand had closed on Cedric’s wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach -
Voldemort’s red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, and saw him raise his wand.
“ Accio! ” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle -
He heard Voldemort’s scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked - it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him. . . . They were going back.
Notes:
third task FINALLY FINISHED!!!
Chapter 19: Chapter 19
Notes:
second last chapter of the day!!
also WE'RE DONE WITH GoF!!!
Chapter Text
The setting sun shimmered gold and green beneath the stars, its surface reflecting the eager faces of the crowd. Hogwarts was packed tight-students from every House, their robes a blur of scarlet, gold, emerald, and blue, packed into the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch. The air buzzed with excitement, chatter swelling into a roar as the final task neared its end.
Hermione stood between Ron and Ginny, her heart hammering with anticipation. The maze had swallowed the champions, but soon, soon someone would emerge victorious.
Then, like a flash of light, Harry and Cedric appeared.
A ripple of cheers erupted-thunderous and overwhelming. Harry’s face shone with exhilaration, eyes bright as he moved forward, triumphant.
But as Hermione’s gaze sharpened, something froze inside her.
Harry’s face was streaked with dirt and sweat, his chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven gasps. He collapsed onto the grassy pitch, lying flat on his back as if the weight of the world had finally broken him. His trembling hand still clutched the golden Triwizard Cup-the Portkey that had brought him here-now resting loosely against the soft blades of grass.
Tears glistened in his eyes, spilling over and tracing dirty streaks down his cheeks, reflecting the cold light of the stars above. His breath hitched with silent sobs as he stared blankly at the sky, struggling to steady himself.
Beside him, Cedric’s body lay utterly still-pale and lifeless beneath the night. His head lolled to the side in a way no living person’s should, and the silence around him felt heavy and impossible to ignore.
Hermione’s heart seized in her chest. The hope she had held just seconds before shattered, replaced by a suffocating, icy dread that clung to her like a shadow. The triumph, the relief-it was all gone.
What was left was a quiet, terrible truth: Cedric was dead.
A hush fell over the crowd.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence-like the air itself was holding its breath.
Then the whisper began.
“Cedric is dead.”
Soft at first, but spreading quickly-passing like wildfire from mouth to mouth.
The cheers died. Whispers turned into gasps. Students pushed forward, craning their necks to see, faces etched with disbelief and growing dread.
Cho’s scream cut through the air-a heart-wrenching, blood-curdling sound that shattered the stunned silence. Her sobs were almost unbearable. Behind her, Fleur’s own cry rose, sharp and wild, cutting through the crowd’s disbelief.
Hermione’s knees trembled, and her hands clenched tightly around Ron’s arm. Her heart ached with the weight of it all.
Just moments ago, hope had filled the air; now, grief flooded it.
The Headmaster, Dumbledore, hurried to Harry’s side, his expression grave. Harry’s voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled through the quiet:
“He’s back. Voldemort’s back.”
The words hit Hermione like a physical blow.
No one cheered anymore.
No one smiled.
Just the cold, terrible truth ringing out over the silent crowd.
McGonagall’s voice rose sharply, steady and commanding:
“Prefects! Head Boy and Head Girl! Take your Houses back to their Common Rooms immediately.”
The crowd began to break apart, the joyful celebrations evaporated into shocked murmurs and tears.
Hermione’s eyes searched the dispersing students-her stomach twisting at the knowledge that Ariel hadn’t come. She had known it all along. But now, more than ever, she needed to find Ariel and tell her.
********************
The Gryffindor Common Room was unusually quiet, the usual warmth and chatter replaced by a thick, heavy silence that pressed down on Ariel like a physical weight. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its flickering light casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist around her.
She sat slumped in an armchair near the hearth, knees pulled tight against her chest, arms wrapped around them as though she could shield herself from the world outside. Her eyes were fixed on the dancing flames, but her mind was elsewhere -trapped in a labyrinth of memories and emotions she couldn’t untangle.
The warmth from the fire contrasted sharply with the cold knot in her stomach, a web of anger, hurt, betrayal, and something much deeper-loss. Loss of trust, loss of friendship, loss of a hope she hadn’t dared to admit she held.
Hermione had found her here, away from the crowd, where Ariel had chosen silence over comfort.
“Ariel,” Hermione had said softly, voice trembling just slightly, “I’m so sorry you weren’t at the maze. You missed it... Harry’s back. He came through the Portkey-he landed on the ground, gasping, tears in his eyes. But... Cedric is dead.”
The words had landed on Ariel like a thunderclap, reverberating through her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Cedric was dead.
Her mind immediately shifted to Harry-but she couldn’t picture his face after he came out of the maze; she hadn’t even been there at the start of the task. All she knew was what Hermione had told her-the gasping, the tears, the overwhelming fear and pain. She imagined him lying there on the grass, vulnerable and broken beneath the stars, and the image tightened the knot inside her chest.
But even as Hermione spoke, Ariel’s thoughts turned inward, spiraling back to their last encounter -the sharp words exchanged in the sunlit courtyard, the slap she had given him, the cruel things they’d said to each other.
“You know what, Harry? I hope your parents are happy they’re dead. Because at least they don’t have to see what you’ve become.”
Those words echoed in her mind, bitter and raw.
And then his reply-the wound she never expected to hear:
“Well maybe if your mother hadn’t died, she could’ve taught you how to not turn into a bloodthirsty freak. But hey -guess the apple didn’t fall far, did it?”
She had wanted to hate him for it. She had shouted, stormed away, convinced that everything between them was shattered beyond repair.
But now, standing at the edge of the world that had cracked open beneath them, the sharp edges of anger blurred with something else-something more complicated.
Ariel’s fingers traced the pendant her mother had given her, cold and solid against her palm. She wondered if Harry felt the same weight of loss, of loneliness, of fractured hope.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the firelight flickered across the room, mirroring the storm inside her chest.
How do you heal when everything inside is broken?
The silence around her was broken by Hermione’s gentle voice.
“We’re going to the Hospital Wing, Ariel. Ron and I... we want to see him. You should come.”
Ariel hesitated, the tangled threads of anger, care, and confusion pulling her in opposite directions. But deep down, beneath the wounds and the silence, there was still a fragile flicker of something she couldn’t ignore.
Slowly, she nodded.
********************
The Hospital Wing smelled faintly of antiseptic and calming herbs -a stark contrast to the storm inside Ariel’s chest. The soft glow of enchanted lamps bathed the room in gentle light, but it did little to soothe the heaviness settling over her.
Hermione and Ron were quiet, their voices hushed as they spoke in low tones with Madam Pomfrey, who was busy adjusting Harry’s blankets and checking his pulse.
Ariel stood at the edge of the room, hands clenched tightly in front of her, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes. Her thoughts swirled like a restless tide, pulling her beneath waves of conflicting emotions.
She was angry -furious at Harry for the things he’d said, at herself for ever trusting him so deeply.
She was hurt -shattered by the betrayal, by the breaking of something she thought unbreakable.
But beneath the bitterness, beneath the raw edges of pain, there was a thread of something else: care.
A fragile, aching care that tangled with all the anger like vines entwined with thorns.
She wanted to reach out. To say something. To bridge the distance between them.
But the memory of their last words echoed sharply in her mind, silencing her voice.
The room was still except for the soft hum of magic and Harry’s shallow breathing.
Hermione glanced at Ariel with quiet understanding, offering a tentative smile that was both encouragement and apology.
Ariel stepped forward slowly, her eyes fixed on Harry’s pale face. His eyes were closed, lashes dark against the skin, his expression peaceful in a way that broke her heart.
For a moment, she let herself imagine the boy she had cared for -before the fear, before the secrets, before everything fell apart.
Her heart clenched painfully, and she swallowed hard against the rush of tears threatening to spill.
Ron cleared his throat softly, drawing Ariel’s attention back to the present.
“We should leave him to rest now,” Hermione said gently, stepping toward the door.
Ariel nodded, her gaze lingering on Harry a moment longer before she turned away, the weight of everything heavy on her shoulders.
Outside the Hospital Wing, the cool night air was a sharp contrast to the stuffy quiet inside. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind inside her.
The fire in the Common Room, the harsh words, the tears, the loss -it was all tangled up inside her like a spiderweb she couldn’t escape.
She wasn’t sure what the future held -if there could ever be forgiveness, or if the fragile hope between them was lost forever.
But one thing was clear: despite everything, part of her still cared deeply.
And that, she realized with both pain and reluctant hope, was a beginning.
********************
The castle was quiet, the usual hum of student life replaced by an eerie stillness that settled deep in Ariel’s chest. She moved through the shadowed corridors with slow, deliberate steps, her heart pounding-not from fear, but from a heaviness she couldn’t shake. Her mind was tangled with the memories of their last words, the way everything between her and Harry had shattered, and the news Hermione had delivered hours before.
She wasn’t sure why she was here, exactly. Maybe it was hope. Or guilt. Or the desperate need to see him-to see if he was still real, still the boy she had once cared for, beneath the grief and anger.
The heavy oak door of the Hospital Wing stood slightly open, just enough to allow a sliver of warm light to spill out into the cold corridor. Ariel’s breath caught, and she froze just beyond the threshold, hidden in the shadows.
She hadn’t expected to hear voices.
Harry’s voice-soft, strained, laced with exhaustion and sorrow-filtered through the crack.
“I don’t know how to explain it all,” he said quietly. The words were raw, fragile, weighed down by pain. “The graveyard… it was worse than anything I could’ve imagined. Voldemort’s back, Ron. And Cedric… he’s dead.”
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by Hermione’s gentle reply.
“We’re here for you, Harry. You’re not alone.”
Ron’s voice was steadier, but heavy with grief.
“We’ll get through this, mate. Together.”
Ariel pressed her hand against the cool stone wall, trying to steady the storm inside her. She could almost feel the weight of Harry’s grief, his shock, the shattered hope in his words. He wasn’t ready-couldn’t be ready-to say more. The pain was too deep, too raw.
Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away fiercely. She hadn’t meant to overhear this-didn’t mean to intrude on his suffering. Yet standing there, invisible and unheard, she felt the fragile thread that still connected them stretch and strain.
She had come hoping to see him asleep, to offer silent comfort, but now she realized she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
Carefully, so as not to make a sound, Ariel stepped back from the door, retreating into the shadows of the corridor.
Her heart ached, tangled and heavy, as she disappeared into the night-alone, uncertain, but still caring in a way she barely understood herself.
********************
The Great Hall was bathed in the golden glow of floating candles, the usual chatter and laughter reduced to a hush so heavy it pressed against Ariel’s chest. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky outside-deep, endless, and mercilessly still.
Long tables stood adorned with gleaming plates and silver goblets, but the feast felt different this year. The air was thick with sorrow, each face somber, eyes haunted by what had been lost.
Ariel sat at the Gryffindor table (seats away from Harry), fingers tracing absent patterns on the edge of her goblet. Her thoughts were a tangle -memories of the terrible news, of Harry’s return, of Cedric’s lifeless body lying beside him in the graveyard.
Across the hall, Dumbledore stood at the podium, his face grave but composed. The hall fell silent as he raised his goblet.
“To Cedric Diggory,” he said, voice steady but heavy, “a brave young man whose life was taken too soon. May we remember his courage, his kindness, and the bright light he brought to all who knew him.”
The room echoed with the clinking of goblets raised high. Ariel’s own hand trembled slightly as she lifted hers, eyes fixed on the flickering flame of a nearby candle.
Cho’s quiet sobs were barely contained, her face pale and streaked with tears. The weight of loss pressed on everyone -but none more so than those closest to Cedric.
Around her, whispers floated like shadows.
“Can’t believe that Cedric is dead.”
“Such a terrible waste.”
“Harry… he came back… but not alone.”
Ariel swallowed hard, the knot in her throat tightening.
She thought of Harry-the boy she once trusted, whose eyes had held tears that night in the graveyard. She wondered if he was still carrying the same pain, the same horror that had seeped into the walls of this very hall.
The feast resumed, but the joy was hollow, the music subdued. The plates before them were barely touched, the laughter forced and fleeting.
As the candles flickered overhead, Ariel’s gaze drifted to the empty place at the table-Cedric’s place-marked forever by a silence that could never be filled.
And somewhere deep inside, amidst the sorrow and regret, she knew that nothing would ever be quite the same again.
********************
The early morning light spilled softly over the grounds of Hogwarts, casting long shadows across the dew-kissed grass. A cool breeze whispered through the ancient trees, carrying with it the bittersweet scent of summer’s end.
The castle stood silent, its towering spires silhouetted against a pale, waking sky. The echoes of the previous night’s feast-the solemn memorial, the raised goblets, the heavy silence-still seemed to hang in the air, settling deep in the hearts of the students as they prepared to leave.
In the courtyard, small groups gathered, shouldering trunks and hugging friends goodbye. The usual buzz of excitement for the holidays was dimmed, replaced by a muted, thoughtful hush. Grief and confusion clung to the morning like fog.
Ariel walked slightly apart from the others, flanked quietly by Ginny and Luna. For weeks now, ever since the courtyard fight, there had been a subtle shift. Not everyone had pulled away completely-Hermione, Anna, and Luna never left her side-but others had grown tentative. Stephanie, who once crashed into rooms like a hurricane, had become strangely cautious around her, her chaotic humor dialed down to something almost gentle. Even Ginny, as loyal as she was fierce, had treaded lightly, unsure of how close to stand or when to speak.
But slowly-bit by bit-that silence had started to soften.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was in the small things: Stephanie flicking a Bertie Bott’s Bean at her during lunch with a mock grimace, Ginny asking her opinion on which dress robes clashed most horrifically with pink, Luna humming beside her without a hint of discomfort. Normal things. Familiar things. And even though the air still held a quiet tension sometimes, Ariel had begun to breathe a little easier around them again.
The Hogwarts Express steamed softly at the platform, its red carriages gleaming in the morning sun. The familiar whistle cut through the air, sharp and echoing. A final reminder that another year had ended-and nothing would ever be quite the same again.
Ariel paused at the edge of the platform, her fingers tightening around the handle of her trunk. Ahead, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were climbing aboard a separate compartment. Harry didn’t glance back-not that she expected him to.
Nearby, Anna and Stephanie boarded together, Stephanie laughing too loudly at something Anna had muttered under her breath. Anna gave Ariel a nod as she passed-a silent, knowing look that said more than words could.
Ginny turned to her with a soft smile. “You ready?”
Ariel gave a quiet nod. “Yeah. I think I am.”
The three of them stepped onto the train, the warmth of the carriage enveloping them instantly. The hallway was filled with hushed chatter and the soft thud of trunks being stowed. They found an empty compartment midway down, slid open the door, and slipped inside.
Luna immediately pulled out a roll of parchment and began sketching a crumple-horned snorkack from memory, her quill dancing across the page. Ginny settled near the window, gaze fixed on the countryside outside as it slowly began to roll past.
Ariel chose the seat beside the door, half-watching her friends, half-lost in her own thoughts. She stared out the window as the train lurched into motion, Hogwarts shrinking in the distance, the towers vanishing behind the mist.
The train clattered steadily down the track, carrying them into the summer.
And as Ariel sat in the quiet hum of the compartment-surrounded by friends who had given her space but hadn’t left-she felt, for the first time in weeks, something close to hope.
Not peace.
Not yet.
But something like the beginning of it.
Chapter 20: Chapter 20
Notes:
i'm so evil aren't i?
Chapter Text
The taxi pulled away from the curb with a low rumble, leaving behind a faint haze of exhaust and silence. Ariel stood at the cracked walkway of the small, peeling house - home, or what used to be. Her rucksack hung heavy on her back, her trunk dragging behind her like a weight chained to her ankle.
The front lawn was patchy and dry, weeds curling at the base of the fence. No light glowed behind the windows. No shadow passed behind the curtains. No noise from the TV.
Ariel gripped the key in her palm until it bit into her skin, and unlocked the door.
Inside, the air was stale and bitter. There were no sounds - no soft hum of the kettle, no coughing from the back room, no groan of her father's recliner. Everything was still. Cold. Clean in that suspicious, unlived-in way.
She stepped inside slowly. Her bag slid from her shoulder and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Something was wrong.
Then she saw it.
A single envelope sat on the kitchen table, her name scrawled across the front in her father’s familiar, jagged writing. No greeting. No note. Just her name - like a label.
Dread pooled in her stomach.
She picked it up with stiff fingers and tore it open.
Ariel,
Don’t bother looking for me. I’m gone. I’ve had enough of this. Enough of you.
You’ve always been a strange little problem, and I’m tired of dealing with the mess you drag into my life. The books. The freak school. The attitude. Everything.
I didn’t ask for this, and I’m not going to waste what time I have left pretending I care. I’ve got someone now - Ellie - someone who treats me like I matter. We’re moving to Canada. She helped me get a proper doctor, and maybe I can finally live like a human being for once.
Don’t write. Don’t call. You’ll figure things out. You always do, right? That’s what you’re so good at - surviving on your own.
Don’t come looking.
- Michael
The room spun.
Ariel stood frozen, the letter trembling in her hands. Her father - her only family left - had abandoned her. Without warning. Without care. Without even the decency to wait until she returned.
The walls were closing in.
Ariel’s fingers shook violently as she lifted the phone, the receiver slippery in her grasp from sweat and rising panic. She jabbed at the buttons, dialling the number that was burned into her memory - the one she’d called a hundred times before for medicine refills, for hospital updates, for taxi pickups from chemo, for emergencies.
But not this.
Not for this .
The dial tone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Click.
“Hello?” came his voice - familiar and foreign all at once. Michael Anderson.
Ariel froze. Her mouth opened, then closed, like her voice had been stolen.
“…Ariel?” he asked after a beat, impatient. “What?”
She gritted her teeth, her throat raw already. “You left.”
A pause.
“Oh,” he said. Not startled. Not sorry. Just bored. “That didn’t take long.”
Her heart seized. “What-what does that mean?”
“I figured it’d take you at least a day or two to notice I’d left last year. Not like you ever really paid attention to anything around here.”
The venom in his voice was so sharp, so casual, that it sliced straight through her. “You left a year ago ?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “I packed my things after you went back to that freak school and moved in with Ellie. She’s good for me. Better than the emotional black hole this house turned into.”
Ariel swallowed. “You didn’t even tell me.”
“I left you a letter ,” he snapped. “What more do you want? A parade?”
“I want a father,” she hissed. “Not a ghost with a pen.”
That seemed to set him off. “You want a father?” he echoed mockingly. “You’ve spent the last three years running off to that school - lying to me, hiding things, sneaking around. You come home when it suits you and act like you’re the only one who’s had it hard.”
“I WAS TAKING CARE OF YOU!” she shouted, fury breaking loose. “You were too weak to stand half the time! I cooked, I cleaned, I cried over you, and you never even looked at me! You treated me like I didn’t exist-like I was just some shadow in the hallway!”
“Yeah, well, what did you expect?” he snapped. “You were always weird . Always wrong . You used to talk to yourself and draw things on the walls. Then your mother died and you turned into a damn echo of her. Mourning her like she was some kind of saint when she was just a woman who dumped a freak of a kid on me and left.”
That broke something.
“You take that back,” Ariel said, voice trembling, low and deadly.
“I won’t,” he spat. “She ran off and left me with you . And I stayed. Don’t forget that. I stayed . Through the early years, through your tantrums, through your freak magic accidents-yeah, I know more than you think. I just didn’t care enough to deal with it.”
Ariel’s body shook. Her voice cracked. “Why didn’t you ever ask? Why didn’t you care ? I was scared. I needed help. I needed you. ”
Michael laughed. “You needed a babysitter, not a father. You needed someone to pity you. And that was never going to be me.”
“You don’t know what it’s been like,” she whispered. “I’ve been bullied every year since I started Hogwarts. For being Muggleborn. For being different. For my mum. For you . For every bloody thing I can’t change. And then-last year-something happened and I…”
She hesitated.
He didn’t wait.
“Let me guess,” he said dryly. “You got caught with one of your little spells and now everyone’s calling you names. Boo-freaking-hoo.”
“I got scratched,” she said softly, a few tears falling off her cheeks. “By a werewolf. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to burden you. Because you were already dying, and I didn’t want you to worry. But now everyone knows, and they treat me like I’m diseased. Like I’m dangerous.”
She was crying now. Full, hot, helpless tears that blurred everything.
“And I still hoped-I still hoped-that maybe when I came home, you'd- you'd-”
“What?” he snapped. “Wrap you in a blanket and tell you everything’s okay? Newsflash, Ariel: the world doesn’t care about your sob story. Neither do I.”
A beat.
Her lip trembled. Her voice fell to a whisper.
“You’re my father,” she said. “I need you.”
His reply came without hesitation.
“Father? I never had a daughter.”
And then he hung up.
Ariel stood there for a moment, the buzzing dial tone still ringing in her ear like a scream in a vacuum. She lowered the phone slowly. Her hand was numb. Her knees locked.
Then-
A glass exploded across the wall, hurled from the counter with a sob so raw it scraped her throat bloody.
She didn’t stop.
She couldn’t.
Everything in her body screamed to move , to break , to tear this house apart until there was nothing left to remind her of him.
She slammed the drawers open and ripped the cutlery tray out, sending knives and forks crashing across the tile. She grabbed framed photos off the wall and smashed them, over and over, until the glass was ground into the floor like sand. She screamed - long, hoarse, throat-burning - into the void, into the cabinets, into the echo of an empty hallway that had never answered her.
“YOU DON’T GET TO LEAVE ME!” she shrieked. “YOU DON’T GET TO LEAVE ME TOO!”
The bookshelf toppled over. Plates shattered. Curtains ripped.
“I WAS JUST A KID! I WAS JUST A KID AND YOU LEFT ME TO BURY HER ALONE!”
She hurled a lamp across the room.
“YOU LEFT ME HERE LIKE I WAS NOTHING!”
A photo of her mum crashed to the floor, the frame splintering on impact.
“WAS I THAT EASY TO FORGET?! WAS I THAT WORTHLESS TO YOU?!”
She kicked the overturned bookshelf, her boot cracking through cheap wood.
“I COOKED FOR YOU! I CLEANED YOUR VOMIT! I SAT IN HOSPITAL WAITING ROOMS ALONE FOR HOURS! ”
She grabbed a stack of his mail-bills, prescriptions, cancer brochures-and ripped them in half and threw them into the air like confetti.
“I MISSED SO MUCH TO TAKE CARE OF YOU, AND YOU COULDN’T EVEN STAY LONG ENOUGH TO SAY GOODBYE?!”
She let out a scream so loud and rage-fueled and then grabbed a chair and threw it across the room with all the force she had left, watching the wood break apart when it hit the wall.
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE?! TO WALK DOWN CORRIDORS WHERE EVERYONE HATES YOU?! TO PRETEND YOU’RE FINE WHEN YOU’RE BARELY HOLDING ON?!”
She slammed her fists against the wall, again and again, until the skin on her knuckles split open, blood oozing out.
“THEY THINK I’M A MONSTER!”
Her voice cracked, but it didn’t matter. The storm was already here.
“THEY WHISPER BEHIND MY BACK! THEY THINK I’LL SNAP AND BITE SOMEONE-LIKE I’M SOME ANIMAL! ”
She grabbed a framed photo of her and her father-smiling, fake, dusty from being untouched-and threw it in the trash.
“AND YOU JUST RAN OFF TO START A NEW FAMILY?! LIKE I NEVER EXISTED?!”
Her breath hitched, tears sliding down her face, hot and furious.
“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU FOR LEAVING! I HATE YOU FOR NEVER BEING THERE! I HATE THAT I STILL WISH YOU LOVED ME!”
Her knees buckled. She dropped to the floor, hunched, fists clenched.
“I HATE THAT I STILL MISS YOU!”
The room was spinning. Her body ached.
And with a sob that tore from her throat like it had claws, she screamed again - not words, just sound. Broken, brutal, and aching.
All the rage of a girl who had held on for too long with no one holding her back.
********************
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Not peaceful.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Ariel lay crumpled on the hardwood floor, face pressed against the cold grain, the taste of tears thick on her tongue. The storm inside her had finally spent itself, leaving only a hollow ache where the fire had been.
Shards of glass glittered like fallen stars across the floor. Broken things surrounded her - the lamp, the photo frames, the plates, her mother’s ceramic vase now shattered in six jagged pieces.
It looked like a crime scene. Maybe it was.
But the victim wasn’t dead. Just… unravelled.
Her body barely moved. Her breathing was shallow. Her ribs hurt from how hard she’d screamed. Her knuckles were sore and bloodied. Her throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. Her hands shook as they lay in her lap, useless and open.
She blinked once. Then again.
Everything was too quiet .
Her ears rang with leftover echoes of her own voice, and still - somewhere in the ringing, the rage whispered, soft and cruel:
“I NEVER HAD A DAUGHTER.”
It kept repeating.
Like the walls had memorised it.
Like the house agreed.
The light outside the windows shifted from golden to grey. Shadows lengthened. Still, she didn’t move. Her legs had gone numb beneath her, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did.
She had no one to call.
No one to explain this to.
Even her friends couldn’t feel this with her. They didn’t know what it was to come home and find home gone . To have the last person who was supposed to stay… leave.
It happened again.
Her mum. Now her dad.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Her eyes stared blankly at a corner of the floor, where a cracked photo frame lay face-down. She didn’t pick it up.
The air was too still. Her face itched from dried tears and dust. Her mouth was dry. Her stomach twisted in knots, but she wasn’t hungry.
She felt like a ghost.
Like she had become something else. Something weightless. Something unmoored from time.
Outside, cars came and went. The hum of traffic and distant chatter from the street filtered in through the cracked window.
But the house remained silent.
So did she.
********************
Ariel hadn’t moved from the spot.
When the morning light finally seeped into the room - pale and golden - it revealed a girl still curled against the wall, her body folded in on itself like a broken wing.
Her hair was tangled. Her clothes were wrinkled and torn from where she’d clawed at herself. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks stiff with dried tears.
A small cut on her arm had scabbed. Her throat burned from the crying.
She had slept, but not really. Not deeply. She’d drifted in and out of shallow, dreamless lapses - more like unconsciousness than rest.
She didn’t want to get up.
She didn’t want to feel anything.
But a tiny voice inside her - trembling and desperate - whispered:
You can’t stay here. Not alone. Not again.
Her hands twitched.
Slowly - like her limbs had been made of stone - she reached for her bag, which still sat by the front door. Unopened. She hadn’t even unpacked when she came back. Somehow, that felt poetic.
She pulled out a crumpled bit of parchment, a quill, and her inkwell.
The words came slowly. Hesitantly. But they came.
Ginny,
I don’t know where else to go.
My dad left. A year ago.
I came home and he was just… gone.
He got married. Moved to Canada. Said he’s done with me.
I can’t stay here.
Please. I need somewhere.
-Ariel
She folded it carefully - her hands trembling - and sent it off with her owl. Her eyes stayed on the sky until the bird vanished from view.
Then, she dragged her suitcase over to the very same spot where she had broken the night before. She sat on the floor again, back against the wall.
Waiting.
********************
Three hours passed.
She didn’t move.
The mess around her remained untouched - a wasteland of memories and failure.
Then, finally, the soft flutter of wings at the window.
She nearly stumbled to her feet as she caught the letter in shaking hands.
Ariel,
Dad’s coming to get you. One hour.
Pack everything.
You’re not alone. Not anymore.
Love,
Ginny
********************
Arthur pulled up outside the small, weather-worn house just as the late afternoon sun began to dip behind the trees. The quiet street looked ordinary enough, but the weight in his chest told him this was no ordinary visit.
He stepped out of the car, the soft click of the door sounding unnervingly loud in the stillness. The house sat there like a silent witness to everything that had happened inside - windows shut tight, curtains drawn, the faint scent of dust and neglect hanging in the air.
Arthur’s hand hesitated on the doorknob before he finally pushed the door open. It creaked, protesting after weeks of stillness.
Arthur stepped into the house, eyes immediately catching the scattered wreckage. Broken glass glistened faintly in the fading light. A torn curtain hung askew by the window. Books and papers were strewn across the floor, some pages crumpled and stained. The air smelled faintly of dust and old sorrow.
He spotted Ariel sitting against the far wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the room, distant and hollow. Her hair was tangled and fell messily around her pale face, shadows lingering beneath her eyes.
Arthur moved closer slowly, not wanting to startle her. His voice was gentle, soft but steady.
“Hello, Ariel. I’m here now.”
She didn’t respond at first, her gaze refusing to meet him. Then, after a long pause, her voice came out quietly, fragile.
“I don’t want this place cleaned up.”
Arthur sat down beside her, surprised but careful not to press too hard.
“Why not?”
She swallowed hard, voice cracking like fragile glass.
“Because… if he comes back… if Dad ever comes back, I want him to see what he left behind. I want him to see this mess. See what he did.”
Arthur’s heart tightened. The raw anger, the hurt, the silent scream beneath those words was undeniable.
He nodded slowly. “That makes sense. You want him to understand. You want him to feel it.”
She looked at him then, eyes shimmering with tears that she fought to hold back.
“I don’t want to forget. Not yet. Not like this.”
Arthur reached out carefully, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
“You don’t have to carry it alone, Ariel.”
She gave a faint, bitter smile.
“Maybe I don’t want to be saved just yet.”
They sat in silence, the wrecked room around them a quiet witness to brokenness, but also to a flicker of fragile connection - a first step toward healing, however slow and painful.
********************
Arthur stayed seated beside her for a little while longer, not saying anything. Just being there. And that alone seemed to mean something.
Ariel didn’t speak again, but her breathing began to even out, ever so slightly. The sharp edge of panic had dulled into exhaustion.
After some time, Arthur stood slowly and offered his hand.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get your things.”
She didn’t move at first.
But then, wordlessly, she reached up and let him help her to her feet.
Her legs wobbled beneath her, stiff from staying curled up for so long. Arthur steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, and she didn’t pull away.
Her suitcase was still packed - just where she’d left it the day she got home. She hadn’t unpacked a single item.
Arthur picked it up without a word, pausing only when he noticed a photograph sticking out from under a fallen stack of mail. It was an old picture of a little girl - Ariel, no older than five - sitting on a swing set, looking straight at the camera with wide eyes. Her father stood behind her, hands on the ropes, looking away.
Arthur’s jaw tensed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He slid the photo into the front of her bag, quietly.
“Anything else you need?” he asked.
Ariel looked around the room - the wreckage, the broken frames, the cracked lamp, the scattered papers - and shook her head slowly.
“No,” she said hoarsely. “Let it stay.”
Arthur nodded once. “Alright.”
They walked together to the door, Ariel quiet, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. When they stepped outside, the fresh air hit her like a wave - and for a moment she stopped, her face turned up to the clouds as if trying to remember how to breathe.
Arthur didn’t rush her.
“Is the car over there?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
He nodded. “Just down the lane.”
They started walking. Ariel didn’t say much, but when her step faltered, Arthur gently adjusted the suitcase in one hand and placed his other on her back, steady and warm.
No words.
Just quiet support.
And for the first time in a long time, Ariel didn’t feel like she was walking alone.
********************
The car was warm and humming gently as it rolled down the narrow country road. Golden light from the late afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting long, flickering shadows across Ariel’s face.
She sat in the passenger seat, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if holding her own ribs together. Her eyes were fixed out the window, watching the hedgerows blur by. Her jaw was clenched, and she hadn’t said a word since they’d left the house.
Arthur didn’t push her.
He kept both hands steady on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. But every so often, he glanced at her-not prying, not pressing-just checking, as if to remind her she wasn’t invisible.
The radio was off. Even the car seemed to sense that noise would be too much right now.
Ariel’s fingers tightened slightly against her sleeves. She didn’t cry, not now. But her throat still ached from earlier, her eyes dry and stinging. The house… her father… the phone call… all of it clung to her like smoke.
She couldn’t even tell if she was angry anymore. Or numb. Or both.
She just felt tired.
Exhausted in a way no amount of sleep could fix.
At one point, Arthur spoke-not to break the silence, but to place something soft in it.
“I’ve always liked long drives,” he said quietly. “Gives the mind time to catch up to the heart.”
Ariel didn’t respond right away. But her shoulders shifted slightly, like she'd heard him. Like maybe, just maybe, those words made a tiny scratch in the wall she’d built up.
Arthur smiled faintly, eyes still on the road.
“I’m not good at silence,” he added. “Molly says I fill it with nonsense about plugs and batteries, just to keep myself busy.”
Ariel blinked. Slowly. Her lips pressed together, then relaxed.
“I don’t mind silence,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.
Arthur nodded gently. “Then we’ll keep it. For as long as you need.”
They drove on.
The trees grew taller as they neared Ottery St. Catchpole, the air turning a little fresher, a little freer. Out here, the world seemed softer-untouched by the weight Ariel carried.
Still, she didn’t relax. Not fully.
But she let herself lean her head against the window, eyes half-closed as they turned onto the path that led to the Burrow.
“I’ve told the others you’re coming,” Arthur said gently as the crooked, wonderful house came into view. “They’re very glad. Ginny especially.”
Ariel didn’t answer.
But as the car slowed and came to a gentle stop in the drive, she took one breath-just one-that didn’t feel like it was going to snap her in half.
Arthur noticed.
He didn’t say anything.
He just got out, walked around the car, and opened her door for her.
And as Ariel stepped out into the light, suitcase in hand, the wind lifting her tangled hair slightly, she looked up at the crooked silhouette of the Burrow.
And for the first time in a very long time…
She hoped it might feel like home.
********************
As Ariel stepped out of the car, her boots crunching softly against the gravel drive, the crooked shape of the Burrow towered above her like a puzzle someone had forgotten how to finish. It leaned slightly to the left, windows glowing golden against the early evening light, chimney puffing out smoke that smelled faintly of stew and wood smoke and something sweet.
It didn’t look like anything she’d ever called home.
But maybe that was the point.
Arthur gently took her suitcase, giving her a look of quiet permission, not pressure. “Ready?”
No, she thought.
But she gave a single nod anyway.
The front door swung open before they even reached it.
Ginny stood there barefoot in the doorway, hair slightly windblown, eyes wide and anxious. For a second, she looked like she didn’t know whether to cry or hug her-and then Ariel was pulled into a tight, grounding embrace.
Ariel stood stiffly in her arms for a moment. Then her fingers curled into Ginny’s shirt, just for a second.
“’M sorry,” she murmured. “For turning up like this.”
Ginny pulled back, shaking her head fiercely. “Don’t be stupid. You’re supposed to be here.”
Inside, Molly Weasley bustled forward like a warm wind, all soft eyes and flour-dusted apron. She didn’t smother Ariel, but she placed a hand gently on her back and guided her in with that kind of motherly gravity that didn’t demand trust - it simply offered it.
“You’re staying in Ginny’s room, love,” she said softly. “Arthur put your things there.”
Ariel nodded silently, heart pounding in her chest. There were pictures on the walls, laughter in the corners, a life humming in every creaky floorboard. It felt strange. Not threatening. But unfamiliar. And unfamiliar, after the house she’d come from, was frightening in its own way.
********************
The first night, Ariel barely spoke.
She lay in Ginny’s room, on a soft bed with patchwork blankets, staring at the sloped ceiling while the wind tickled the window. Her bag sat untouched at the foot of the bed. She slept without dreams and woke with a weight in her chest that didn’t lift.
The second day, she wandered downstairs to find Molly humming softly in the kitchen. Ariel offered to help - not out of energy, but out of obligation. She peeled potatoes while Molly talked gently about the garden, about Fred and George’s latest prank, about the cat that kept stealing socks off the line. Ariel didn’t laugh. But she didn’t leave either.
Ginny stayed close, careful but not smothering. She talked to Ariel like nothing had changed. That helped.
Fred and George greeted her with an energetic, “Oi! Look who finally escaped the Ministry of Misery!” and earned a half-smile from Ariel, which they high-fived each other for when they thought she wasn’t looking.
And Ron-Ron didn’t try to say anything clever or cheerful. He didn’t even try to fix it.
The morning after her arrival, Ariel had found him sitting on the back step, chewing toast with his usual slouch. He saw her, nodded once, and patted the step beside him.
They sat in silence for nearly fifteen minutes, just listening to the breeze rustle through the overgrown garden.
Ron didn’t ask her what happened. He already knew.
He didn’t say she looked awful, even though she knew she did.
All he said was, “You don’t have to talk about it. But if you do… I’ll listen.”
And he did. When she whispered, haltingly, that she didn’t know what she’d done to deserve all this - he just nodded, jaw set, like he’d take on the whole world for her if he could.
She didn’t cry in front of him.
But she sat a little closer.
Later that day, when George tried to “cheer her up” by charming the sugar bowl to sing Celestina Warbeck off-key, Ron smacked him on the back of the head and told him to shut it - with such rare fire that even Ariel blinked in surprise.
Fred whispered, “Blimey. He’s serious about this.”
Ariel didn’t smile.
But she didn’t feel so alone.
********************
The evening air was soft.
It had rained earlier in the day, just enough to leave the grass damp and the sky streaked with watercolor hues - orange melting into lilac, with traces of silver where clouds drifted lazily across the horizon. The Burrow, chaotic and leaning, glowed warmly behind her. A patch of light spilled out from the kitchen window, flickering gently across the garden.
Ariel sat alone on the low stone wall near the edge of the orchard, Ginny’s cardigan draped over her shoulders, the sleeves too long for her arms. She didn’t mind. The extra warmth felt like a cocoon.
Her hands were folded tightly in her lap.
She wasn’t crying - she’d done more than enough of that already. She was just thinking , which lately felt heavier than it used to.
The silence here wasn’t frightening like the one at home had been. This wasn’t the kind of silence where awful things hid in the corners. This silence was open, wide, letting her breathe into the hurt without pressing on it.
In the distance, she could hear Ron and Ginny bickering faintly in the garden shed. Laughter rose once from Fred and George’s room - something exploded a few seconds later. Molly’s voice followed with an exasperated, “BOYS!”
It made her chest ache. Not in a painful way.
Just in that quiet, bewildering way that meant: So this is what a home sounds like.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself soak in the warmth of the world around her.
Her father’s words still lived in her bones.
“I never had a daughter.”
But for the first time in a long time, those words didn’t echo so loudly.
They didn’t drown everything else out.
She wasn't healed. Not even close.
But she wasn’t hollow anymore.
********************
It began with a slam.
The front door burst open, rattling the crooked frame as Percy Weasley stormed into the kitchen, the morning post clenched in his fist like a weapon. His face was blotchy with anger, his eyes blazing beneath his glasses. His Ministry robes were still on - slightly wrinkled, but still pristine, as if he'd come home in a fury before even stopping to take them off.
Arthur stood by the sink, drying a teacup. Molly looked up from the stove. Ariel, Ginny, and Ron sat at the table, frozen mid-conversation. The air thickened in an instant.
“I can’t believe you,” Percy spat, voice sharp enough to draw blood.
Arthur turned, setting the cup down slowly. “Percy?”
“You’ve gone behind my back. You spoke to the Minister about me-told him I was conspiring with Dumbledore!”
“I didn’t say conspiring-”
“You tainted my name, Dad!” Percy shouted, slamming the crumpled letter onto the table. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to my career?”
Ariel flinched.
Ron’s chair scraped the floor as he sat up straighter. “Oh, come off it, Percy-”
“No, let him speak,” Arthur said quietly, eyes fixed on his son.
Percy’s voice trembled with fury. “All I’ve done - everything I’ve worked for - you’ve made it look like I’m just your little puppet, tagging along with your crackpot theories about You-Know-Who coming back!”
“He has come back!” Arthur barked, the heat in his voice rising for the first time. “Or are you so deep in Fudge’s pocket you can’t see past the glitter on your Ministry badge?”
Molly let out a gasp.
“You’re just jealous,” Percy hissed, shaking. “You’ve always looked down on me for wanting more than your tinkering and your nonsense about plugs. But at least I’m not wasting my life on fairy tales and dead-end rebellion!”
Arthur’s face turned red. “Jealous? Of what , Percy? Your willingness to sell your soul to stay in the Minister’s good graces? Your blind loyalty to a man too frightened to admit the truth?”
“You’re embarrassing us,” Percy snarled. “You’re embarrassing me . Every day at the Ministry they laugh behind my back because of you. You’ve dragged our name through the mud.”
“I would rather be laughed at for standing up for what’s right,” Arthur growled, “than applauded for keeping quiet while evil returns.”
“Then you can keep your righteousness,” Percy snapped, voice breaking, “because I’m done pretending this is a family I want to be a part of.”
Molly clapped a hand over her mouth.
Ginny whispered, “Percy, no…”
But Percy didn’t look back.
He turned, stalked out of the room, and thundered back to the entrance. A moment later, the door to his room slammed shut hard enough to make a photo fall off the wall.
The silence that followed was thick, stunned, and painful.
Arthur stood still, fists clenched. He looked like something inside him had cracked in two. Not with rage, but something quieter, deeper. Disappointment. Grief.
Molly whispered his name.
“I knew this was coming,” Arthur said, but his voice was hoarse. “I just didn’t think he’d choose them over us .”
********************
Ariel hadn’t moved during the entire argument. Her hands were clenched around her tea mug, fingers stiff, shoulders tight with tension.
She had never seen the Weasleys fight like that. Not really.
Bicker? Sure. Tease each other? Constantly. But this-this had been a wound. A splitting of bone from bone.
The worst part wasn’t Percy leaving.
It was watching a father look like he'd just been told his son was gone.
Her eyes drifted to Arthur’s face - still pale, still processing. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, but his hands shook as he reached for the fallen photograph.
She felt it like a knife to the ribs.
She knew that look. That exact look.
It was the same one her own father wore every time he wanted to pretend she didn’t exist - except Arthur’s wasn’t apathy. His was the ache of a man who cared too much.
Ariel pushed her chair back, quietly.
She slipped out of the kitchen, stepping into the hallway where the shadows were cool and still, and leaned her back against the wall. She felt dizzy with emotion she didn’t have words for.
This house - this family - had felt like a beacon in the dark.
Now, it reminded her that no family was unbreakable.
No matter how kind they were.
No matter how loudly they loved.
And yet… even with Percy’s words still ringing in her ears, even with the crack now running through the Weasley house like a fault line...
Ariel still didn’t want to leave.
Because here, even in pain, people fought to stay together.
That was more than she’d ever had.
********************
The kitchen was still thick with tension when Ginny stormed out after Percy’s furious exit. Ariel was stacking mugs, her fingers numb, eyes bleeding from unshed tears.
Ginny’s voice cut through the silence like a blade:
“
I can’t believe him,
” she spat, voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Percy’s always had to follow the rules, stick to the Ministry line-
but
…
his family was supposed to come first.
Not a career. Not
them
.
Us
.”
She slammed her fist against the table, rattling the cutlery.
Ariel froze. She had a flood of anger for Percy-what he’d done to his family, how he’d spoken about them. But hearing Ginny speak so rawly, so hurt… it unleashed something else inside her too: a fierce protectiveness, from a place she never expected to care so much again.
Before Ariel could speak, footsteps thundered in from the hallway-Fred, George, and Ron, like a mini tornado of agitation.
“Percy’s gone full Ministry muppet,” Fred growled, crossing his arms. “Remember when he used Dad’s Rotary Phone? Percy’s idea of a wild night was reorganising Mummy’s filofax!”
George let out a mocking cheer. “I heard they’re offering him a knighthood for being the first official Weasley to side with the Ministry over his own parents!”
Ariel’s hand tightened on the handle of a mug. The mocking was harsh-but inside, it felt like salt to an open wound. Because of what he’d said-not about her, not about Phoenix-but about her family .
Ron, typically quieter, stepped forward. “He’s out of his mind. Doesn’t even know us anymore. Reminds me of … well, someone I won’t say.”
Fred smirked. “Professor Arnott?”
George and Ariel both glanced at Ron. He shook his head. “Not him. Really closer to…”
They all trailed off, sharing silent looks.
“And you know what?” Ginny said, her voice low and icy. “He’s missed it all. He was never really here . He was never on our side. ”
The twins cheered-but only quietly, sheepishly.
Then something shifted. With a soft, sudden look at Ariel, Ron said, “We’ve got to pack. We leave tomorrow.” He half-assumed a lighter tone. “Until he comes back… I mean, probably after Hogwarts.”
A shared nod passed through all of them.
“We’re tighter than ever,” Fred said, crossing the room dramatically. “If Percy’s gone, we’ll just go without him.”
George added, “Ministry Exile Club, here we come!”
Their laughter was brittle, forced-but it was a sound Ariel could stand. Not happy-but alive .
********************
Daylight streamed through the Burrow’s windows as the household bustled to prepare for departure. Clothing, robes, trunks, and magical artefacts surrounded everyone.
Ariel paused at her open suitcase, staring at the mess-once so untidy, now bursting with clothes, parchment, her school schedule, and a small plush toy Ginny had insisted she keep “in case of bad dreams.”
Ron came past, tossing in extra socks without a word.
Ginny brushed her hair back, her face determined as she packed a small copy of Quidditch Through the Ages into her trunk.
Fred and George raced to and fro, loading crates of Weasley fireworks and joke items-loading tamper-proof boxes, of course.
Molly hovered with a gentle expression, arranging a shawl and tea set into Ariel’s bag. “Arthur wanted you to have these.”
Ariel took them with a nod, swallowing. “Thank you.”
There was a brief pause-Ron reached out to squeeze Ariel’s shoulder. She squeezed back. It hurt, but… it meant more than words.
********************
Two days before Percy’s exit, a letter from the Order of the Phoenix arrived - Professor McGonagall’s brief instructions on Grimmauld Place. The evening they finished packing, the Weasleys and Ariel pulled out the enchanted Ford Anglia, extended its boot for extra suitcases and trunks, and loaded in laughter and tension alike.
Arthur slid behind the wheel, smiling in that crooked, warming way he had. Molly slipped into the passenger seat-her expression tired but resolute. Ginny declared needlessly out loud, “Ginny Weasley, ready for wartime missions!” as she climbed in, dragging her trunk.
Ariel climbed into the back alongside Ron and the twins. She set her bag next to her-still wrapped in the feel of belonging she hadn’t known she craved until now.
The engine purred to life under Arthur’s elbow. Everyone leaned forward.
“Grimmauld Place awaits!” Molly said quietly, her hand resting on the armrest.
Ariel pressed her hand into the plush seat, soft and certain at last.
She watched the Burrow-the warm, crooked lines-disappear down the winding country path.
And as the car slipped into the gathering dusk, Ariel gripped her bag and closed her eyes, breathing in the feeling she had tried to quiet down for so long.
This time, she was going somewhere with people who wouldn’t let her be invisible.
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