54.Sparks

31st of October 1993, Sunday (8 days later)

Juno

Harry learned from his mistakes with frightening speed—it was incredibly hard to defeat him twice the same way. It was an instinctive talent for fighting that made even her envious. 

“Frigor Umbra!”

The icy shade was met with a burst of fire, melting it away with a shriek. 

That trick had worked only twice more before Harry managed to counter it. Not that it mattered. The barrage of spells from Amelia’s wand did not slow even for a second as her hand had turned into half a blur.

Harry did not falter, brow shining with sweat as his wand danced, flicking away some hexes and blocking others.

The gap in power and experience was something her friend could not bridge. Harry lacked the strength to dispel the quagmire underneath his feet quickly, and his shield shattered under Amelia’s curses. Another loss. But he held out for nearly three minutes this time, and even the deputy headmistress looked winded, her face glistening with sweat under the lamplight.

Harry was no better—he almost looked like a wet rat, with the swamp gunk on the hem of his robes covered with frost. But his stamina was leagues better, considering he had just finished his morning jog before this duel. 

“You’re getting better, Mr Potter,” Amelia acknowledged, panting for breath. “I’m almost envious of your talent and the discipline that saw it honed to this level. Not to mention the stamina; you don’t tire easily. Quite the swift progress on your fire—you’re almost ready to venture into elemental magic.”

“Just some luck and a bit of fear of being burned,” Harry muttered, cleaning his robes with the tip of his wand. 

“Mere luck or fear would not have seen a third-year leagues better than every other student in school. Though many would say as expected of the Boy Who Lived.”

“They can take my place if they wish,” her friend said coolly. “I’d trade all of this nonsense and fame for a single day with my parents.”

“…If you wish, I can take you to Godric’s Hollow today,” Amelia offered, face softening. “To visit them.”

For a moment, Harry stood stunned, eyes wide at the older witch. Then, a long and tired sigh tore from his chest. Juno sharpened her senses to the brink but couldn’t catch anything. At that moment, Harry Potter was no different from a stone, not giving away even an ounce of feeling.

“I…” Harry swallowed heavily. “Thank you, ma’am. But I don’t think I’m ready yet. Perhaps next year.”

“Very well,” Bones said, smiling at the young wizard with uncharacteristic kindness. But it disappeared so quickly that Juno might as well have imagined it.

Amelia Bones was hard to read—her mind was a fortress that rarely let feelings escape. She glanced at Juno and nodded in acknowledgement, but that was it. No words of encouragement, merely eyes that lingered for too long on Juno’s cheeks for some reason.

Juno was almost jealous of the attention Harry was receiving. Amelia Bones was almost treating him like a long-lost nephew. But she couldn’t bring herself to be angry—Harry had earned it. He was better, no matter how much it stung to admit it.

Unlike her friend, Juno was still being defeated swiftly. The real difference between her and Harry shone in their duels against Amelia. Perhaps she could hold out for over two minutes if she used dark magic, but she did not doubt that such spells would be met with heavy-handed counters. The Bones family did not lack for its own brand of dark magic, no less lethal if slightly less insidious than what the Blacks and the Lestranges could boast.

“Well, enjoy your Hogsmeade visit, you two,” the older witch said as she dispelled the quagmire and repaired the broken flooring in the room. “It was supposed to be yesterday, but Professor Dumbledore could not make up his mind until the last moment, delaying it for today.”

“The headmaster can be mercurial at times,” Harry muttered absentmindedly.

Amelia let out something between a scoff and a bark of laughter. “Don’t make trouble now.”

Juno’s gaze lingered on the door long after the deputy headmistress had left. 

“Can you snatch a win if Nyx helps you?” she asked lightly. 

Harry tilted his head, brows scrunched up. “It’s hard to say,” he said at last. “She’s still swifter than I, her mind is steady, and her magic is honed and thickened to a great level, and those ice spells affect even Nyx. Perhaps if I can snatch a short moment of surprise with Nyx’s defence to knock her out… but I doubt it would work a second time. I don’t think anyone under Voldemort’s service could defeat her alone. Perhaps in groups of two or three…”

To her dismay, Harry was a better judge of strength than she was. But even without Nyx, Juno would wager her friend could already fight most veteran aurors spell to spell.

The two of them retreated to the common room for a quick wash and a change of clothes, and then quickly joined the river of students flowing down the Grand Staircase and into the Great Hall for breakfast.

It did not escape Juno’s attention that more and more witches stole glances at Harry. Some boldly looked on, without any shame. Their looks lingered far too long to be innocent, and there was a growing heat there now, something smouldering and simmering that had nothing to do with simple admiration. Juno even caught it in the eyes of a few seventh-years, which made her stomach twist unpleasantly.

She didn’t like it. Not one bit. She tried not to think of it, but it wiggled in her mind like a worm regardless.

This morning, the gloom hung thick over the four tables.

Most of the older students were slumped over the benches, while a select few were buzzing with excitement, faces shining as they waved their hands, talking loudly of the coming visit to Hogsmeade.

“It’s not fair,” Padma whined as they joined her by the plate of bacon. “How are we supposed to compete with Juno, Harry, and Diana?”

“You can probably beat my scores if you try a little harder,” Diana said.

“Forget it—there’s still Sue Li with better grades than mine, and you’re more talented in learning theory and writing essays than I am.”

“Four students per house from each year is too few,” Goldstein chimed in, nodding wisely as he smeared his toast with butter.

“Easy for you to say when you grabbed the second spot for boys in our year,” said Michael Corner, as he side-eyed Anthony with annoyance.

Anthony only chuckled from behind his toast.

“Study harder, Corner, and you can be the second spot amongst the boys in our year, winning yourself a Hogsmeade spot.”

“I still don’t think it’s fair to count Harry and Juno as third years,” MacDougal said, but there was no heat in her voice. “The headmaster should just add two more slots to Ravenclaw.”

Laughter and cries of approval sputtered amongst the table, but they all dug into the food.

“So,” Padma said lightly after swallowing half a toast. “Where will you visit?”

Juno would have almost been fooled by the calm facade if the indignation mixed with envy had not rolled off the girl in waves. 

“Dervish and Banges and Zonko’s for sure,” Anthony muttered. “I can get some sweets from Honeydukes too.”

“Can you take some for me too?” Morag tugged at his sleeve, giving him an innocent smile. “I’ll give you the sickles in a moment.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

No later than a second after Anthony agreed, he was already crowded.

“For me too—I need to get more chocolate frog cards from Honeydukes.”

“I want to order some too—”

“Poor Tony.” Harry shook his head as he wolfed down enough bacon to feed Crabbe and Goyle but with far more grace. “I say we go while we still can, and they aren’t fully green with envy.”

“Wait for the Sunday Prophet first,” Juno said.

Soon enough came the owls, filling the Great Halls with hoots and the flapping of wings.

Hedwig landed before them, newspaper tied to her talon, and Juno bribed the owl with a handful of bacon. The two yellow eyes looked at her, as if judging and searching for something, but she eventually presented her leg, allowing Juno to take the newspaper.

Then, Hedwig flapped her wings, perching on Harry’s shoulder.

“If you want an owl, get one of your own instead of trying to steal mine,” he quipped, clicking his tongue as the snowy owl pecked at his ear.

“There’s no owl half as pretty as Hedwig.” Juno shook her head. “Or half as smart.”

That earned her a hoot.

“Don’t listen to her, Hedwig,” he said, running his fingers through the snowy plumage. “She’s just trying to bewitch you away from me.”

Hedwig just puffed up proudly, and then she took flight. 

“Anyway, let’s go,” Harry said. “Your paper’s here, so best not to linger.”

“Why the rush?” Diana asked, face twisting in a frown. “It’s not like you have an appointment to catch.”

“But we do,” Juno said, her voice lowering to a whisper. “A bit of House Black family business, I’m afraid.”

Diana looked like she wanted to ask more, but she nodded, swallowing her question and shoved her half-eaten sausage into a napkin. “Let’s go, then.”

It wasn’t just Goldstein who was crowded by his yearmates—a similar occurrence could be seen on every table. Even the prim and proper Slytherins were at it, bargaining for the purchase of supplies with odd enthusiasm. It was not that they needed to visit a shop urgently, Juno realised, but they enjoyed the back and forth.

They grabbed their coats and jackets, slipped out of the commotion unnoticed, and left the castle. 

The additional clothes were quickly pulled on, as the sky outside was cloudy, and late autumn had taken hold of the Scottish Highlands. Hoarfrost clung to the grass and bushes, painting the courtyard pale white.

“Do you think we should have waited for Goldstein?” Harry mused idly, his breath misting against the crisp morning chill.

“No.” Juno’s tone grew colder. “He joined our group on his own, so let him keep up or be left behind.” 

Harry might have seen the Goldstein boy as a close acquaintance, half a friend, but she was not as soft. Toadies and lackeys without skill and tact were worthless. Goldstein had managed to glue himself to their group, which was a skill of its own, but not one Juno particularly valued.

It was a callous thing to look at others through the lens of utility, but as the Lady of House Black, she couldn’t afford to do otherwise. Family and friends were different, of course. 

“Damn it, I just did my hair and didn’t want to wear a hat!” Diana grumbled as her neatly combed hair was swept in the wind, tangling in each direction. Then, she blinked at Juno. “How are you doing that? Your hair is not moving at all.”

“…Family magic,” Juno said.

“Come now, pull the other one,” her friend pouted.

“It really is family magic,” Juno confessed, raising her hands helplessly. “Vanity runs strong in the old and wealthy families like Black. Is it so odd that they made spells for it, hoarding them away like treasures?”

In truth, it was an enchanted hair clip. She had not lied—of course—that enchantment was written in the Black family grimoire. 

“Why not tie it up?” Juno suggested. “Or perhaps braid the hair. It would suit you.”

“Braids are outdated—nobody does them anymore,” Diana said, shaking her head. “And very cumbersome to do and undo.”

“Only for Muggles. Witches have spells to do their hair, you know?”

“…Really?!”

“The spells aren’t easy, but any self-respecting witch masters them sooner or later,” Juno gave her a soft smile. “I will give you my collection later.”

Then, they reached the outer gate leading to the road to Hogsmeade.  

Merula was waiting there, face half-covered by a witch’s hat and body tightly wrapped in a thick woollen cloak. As soon as they approached, she fished out a scroll and a quill.

“Names,” she demanded, tone bristling with irritation. Juno would be just as irritated if she had been forced to stand guard outside at such a cold time—and the shift was just beginning; Merula would probably be stuck here for hours.

“You’ve seen us before, Miss Snyde,” Diana replied timidly, shuffling under the old witch’s glare.

“I have,” Merula bit out, “but I’m obligated to check your names from the list. I have each student whose scores are eligible here, so don’t think of playing tricks.”

“Potter, Black, and Taylor,” Harry was the one to respond. “Ravenclaw third year.”

Merula scribbled something down and pushed the gate open just enough so one person could pass.

They squeezed through the gap and were on the slippery gravel road.

As soon as they were out of sight of the Hogwarts walls, Juno saw a wiggle at the corner of her eye. She turned around to see a big shadow slithering out and disappearing into the treeline leading to the forbidden forest.

She shook her head, suppressing the pang of envy that lodged in her throat. Nyx was majestic with those scales of inky black that merged seamlessly into the shadows, easily a class five beast—a wizard killer. And not one of the weaker ones.

Which witch wouldn’t want a magical familiar like that?

Alas, there was only one Nyx, and Juno was reduced to admiring and chatting with the black serpent occasionally. At least neither Harry nor his familiar were going anywhere.

“So, have any of you been to Hogsmeade before?”

“Yes,” Juno said. “It’s not a bad place. Picturesque and peaceful.”

“What about you, Harry?”

He stared into the distance for a long while before eventually saying, “I’ve seen it once or twice.”

A non-answer. There was something there—perhaps he had seen it in his visions?

Juno tensed for a moment, then quickly relaxed. If it were important, he would have mentioned it.

“So, why so tense, Harry?” Diana prodded, her amber eyes flicking to the young wizard.

“This is an unlucky day for me,” Harry said quietly. “A day of misfortune and loss.”

“Oh, right,” the bubbly girl said, grimacing. “Let’s have a great time in Hogsmeade, then—”

“Wait!” a shout rang out behind them. “Wait for me!”

They turned to see the panting form of Draco Malfoy running up to them, face reddened from exertion and cold.

“Cousin.” Juno inclined her head. “I see you’ve passed muster this time.”

“Of course,” he wheezed out, puffing his chest like a proud peacock. “Only Damien is better than I.”

She shook her head. Way to be proud of being second—that was as far as her cousin could go.

“Draco,” Diana greeted, looking concerned for the Slytherin. “Don’t you want to go with your friends?”

“I’m afraid Gregory, Vincent, and Theo can never win a spot for Hogsmeade, seeing Zabini is way stronger than they are academically,” he said with a frown. “And well, it’s Davis and Moon from the girls my year.”

“You can join us then,” Diana said. “Right, Harry, Juno?”

“I don’t mind,” Harry said with a shrug. “But Juno and I have a prior commitment in Hogsmeade, Draco, so let’s meet up at the Three Broomsticks at noon.” 

It would almost seem her cousin was here to play the loyal sycophant. But the glances he stole at Diana and the redness that lingered in his ears said otherwise. Juno could feel his… admiration. There was eagerness there, desire, and fondness. 

She almost laughed out loud. Draco was not here for her and Harry.

The son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa liked a Muggle-born, and it wasn’t something as mundane as simple lust or just attraction to beauty. Oh, the scandal that this would be if it got out. Juno was almost tempted to let it slip to her aunt… if Diana had not been her friend.

“You should be careful, Draco,” Juno said instead, lowering her voice. “Appearing with us in public too often might be risky for you.”

“It’s fine, my father approves anyway,” Draco happily said as he stole another glance at Diana.

Did her cousin lose the last of his mind at the sight of a pretty face?

Worse… why did Diana look like she liked him?

Not like, but close enough. There was some fondness and curiosity in her friend, and even a sliver of excitement. 

“Caution never hurts,” she reminded dryly, ignoring the rising desire to hex the imbecile who called himself her cousin. “And you know how wagging tongues are.”

It was impossible. No matter how both seemed interested, Juno knew that Lucius would either disown Draco or find a way to kill Diana before he entertained having his very name, let alone bloodline, dirtied by Mudbloods. And even if Draco was eager, Juno knew her cousin. He could never survive alone, especially in the Muggle world.

She opened her mouth to dissuade them and to stomp out this nonsense before it could start, but no sound came out, seeing the two of them so chummy with each other.

What could she even say to them?

Harry seemed to have no such problem.

“Yeah, some of the older Slytherins can get very nasty at times,” he said, giving them a meaningful look.

Diana snorted. “Don’t they all run away from you, though?”

“They might not pick a fight, but that doesn’t mean they can’t make trouble for me. Or trouble for Draco, for that matter.”

That finally shook her cousin, and he almost jerked away. “Right, right. Of course, caution never hurts. By the way, did you read the Prophet?”

“Why, did something important happen?”

Truthfully, it had slipped her mind. The newspaper lay forgotten in her mokeskin pouch. 

He handed over a crumpled piece of paper, and Juno almost froze.

BATTLE IN BRISTOL

A quiet Saturday evening erupted into violence and chaos as a team of Aurors led by the formidable Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody launched a swift and daring ambush against Bellatrix Lestrange and her Death Eater collaborators during an attack on a Muggle household in the city’s northern suburbs.

According to Ministry sources, Lestrange was found mid-torture of an unsuspecting Muggle family when Moody’s squadron descended upon the property, engaging in a high-stakes magical confrontation that lit the skies with spellfire and shattered windows across several neighbouring homes.

While two of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s followers—Fenric Nott and Vincent Ashthorn—were confirmed dead at the scene, the victory came at a cost. One Auror has lost their life in the line of duty, and at least four others sustained serious injuries. Their names are being withheld pending notification of their families.

“This was a coordinated strike based on long-standing intelligence,” said DMLE head Rufus Scrimgeour in an early morning statement. “We will mourn the fallen, but danger and losses have never stopped law enforcement. Let it be known: every day, the walls close in. Bellatrix Lestrange and her cronies might have escaped justice tonight, but they will not run forever.”

A third Death Eater was apprehended during the skirmish, though the Ministry has chosen not to release his identity, citing “ongoing interrogation and security concerns.” Sources within the Auror Office suggest he may have been a ranking member of Lestrange’s inner circle.

Despite successfully eliminating two dangerous fugitives, Lestrange herself evaded capture, once again vanishing into the shadows, as did many of her accomplices. Witnesses reported hearing her chilling laughter echoing through the night before she disappeared.

The tortured Muggle family is reportedly recovering in St Mungo’s, with heavy memory modification underway to preserve the Statute of Secrecy.

Warding specialists and Obliviators have since sealed off the area and are cooperating with Muggle authorities to explain the “gas explosion” that neighbours were told caused the damage…

Juno let out the breath she did not remember holding. Ashthorn had never been a Death Eater, her mind reminded, merely a prolific thief who robbed Muggle houses clean—it seemed that the Ministry was greatly exaggerating again. Or he had been recruited by her mother, whether he was willing or not.

She retreated into the depths of her mind, trying to examine her feelings.

There was fear there, but it was merely a drop in a lake full of anger, surprise, and some relief. Not the relief that her mother escaped unscathed, but that Bellatrix had survived yet another day. Juno would hate it if Bellatrix and Rodolphus died too early. They could die, but she wanted to ask them why first. Why had they abandoned her in the name of some filthy half-blood fiend with love for wanton murder and a thirst for power to match?

And then, they would die by Juno’s hand.

But she was too weak, still. Too young. Even control of the House of Black and its nominal allies and servants had slipped away because she was too weak to wield it and feared they would turn against her. No, she knew they would turn against her, given the chance. 

“We’re almost there,” Harry said, his firm voice breaking her away from her thoughts. “Are you well? If you’d like, we can just… do something else.”

Juno steeled herself and shook her head. “It’s pointless to postpone it.” 

Surely enough, she saw Hogsmeade down the road. A long, cobbled street lined with crooked chimneys and thatched cottages, and the occasional shop. As was the tradition during holidays, enchanted candles hung from the trees, flickering against the fierce wind that never snuffed them out.

“We’ll meet in front of Honeydukes at noon,” Juno told her fidgeting cousin. “I trust you will behave with Diana.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Diana was the one to reply, almost jumping with excitement at the sight of the village. “This place looks lovely. I wonder if a house could be purchased here.”

“You can, as long as you have the gold,” said Draco, all too eagerly.

Diana’s gaze was filled with awe as she studied the village.

“That’s great. But… how much can a cottage in a remote corner of the Scottish Highlands cost?”

“Twice as much as similar property in central London,” Juno said, her lips curling with amusement as her friend gaped like a fish. “Everyone wants a place in Hogsmeade, but no new cottages can be built. Renovation and construction require agreement from the local council and the headmaster. Not to mention the permits from the Ministry, which are an entirely different beast.”

This made it practically impossible because Dumbledore was not the kind of wizard to be moved by gold, threats, or promises of influence. If the man who broke Grindelwald’s power did not want to do something, nobody could force his hand or change his mind. Then came the Hogsmeade locals, who would never agree to allow new competition. The less said about the number of palms needing greasing in the Ministry, the better.

“Anyway, come with me, Diana,” Draco said, failing to hide the eagerness in his voice as Diana hooked her elbow with his. “I’ll show you around while those two busy themselves with their arrangements.”

For a few moments, Harry and Juno just watched as the two rushed the shops that were just opening with great enthusiasm.

“…Why do I have the feeling that this won’t end well?” Harry asked, a heavy frown settling over his face.

“Because it won’t.” Juno hesitated for a long moment. “Perhaps we should try to break this up before it becomes a mess.”

“No, let the two of them sort it out as they wish,” he said thickly. “We can involve ourselves if it becomes necessary—to mediate for Diana if nothing else.” Or to protect her, remained unsaid, but Juno heard it all the same.

The two of them pulled on their hoods and rushed through Hogsmeade’s main street and slipped into the Three Broomsticks—the pub standing alone on the far side of the village.

The insides were flush with chatter, the taproom half-filled with patrons despite the early morning, gobbling down breakfast in the warm comfort of the bar.

They stopped by the counter to wait until Madam Rosmerta finished her task and came to meet them. The witch in question was shapely and pretty enough to attract the glances of the patrons here. But not pretty enough to get Harry’s attention. Juno tried not to look too pleased about it and would have failed without the hood on her face.

“How can I help you, darlings?” the older witch spoke with a kind, almost enchanting voice that doubtlessly made countless patrons flock back to her inn.

“We have a reservation for the private parlour under the name Starborn,” Juno said with a voice low enough to be drowned out by the surrounding chatter but loud enough for the proprietress to catch.

“Alright, follow me.”

Rosmerta led them up the stairs into a cosy room where an older witch already waited, sipping slowly on a cup of tea while perusing through the Sunday Prophet. The hat on her head was pulled low, masking most of her features.

“Just ring the bell if you want anything, and I’ll be here shortly,” Rosmerta said, closing the door behind them.

The witch in question pulled off her hat and smiled. “Niece. Mr Potter,” Narcissa Malfoy purred as they sat across her. “I have taken it upon myself to order some tea.”

Before Juno could say anything, Harry unceremoniously waved his wand over the two steaming cups, checking for poisons and potions.

“Don’t you trust me, Mr Potter?” her aunt asked, exasperated.

“I trust you to follow your interests,” Harry said flatly as he flicked his wand around them, and a soft buzz filled the air. “There, now let’s talk.”

After two tense hours of back and forth, the meeting finally ended. As usual, her aunt was not easy to deal with, even when she played the part of a ‘spy’.

“The two of you should lie low for a while,” Narcissa advised as she straightened her skirts. “Lucius’s dark mark is getting darker by the day, almost to the level where it was before that night. The same goes for you, niece. Your mother probably chose to suffer a setback to distract the DMLE and is far from defeated, no matter how loudly the Ministry tries to toot their horn.”

“Thank you, Aunt,” Juno said. “We shall keep in touch in the meantime. But for now, farewell.”

“Take care, Juno.” There was almost fondness on her aunt’s face then, and to her surprise, it was genuine. 

Words said, Narcissa Malfoy curtsied lightly, veiled her face, and left the two of them alone in the parlour.

“She said way less this time,” Harry mused. “Do you think she’s ratting us out to the other Death Eaters now?”

“No,” Juno said after a long moment. “She tried to hide it, but my aunt felt disturbed, scared even—and wary. She fears the return of the dark lord as much as we do, if not more. I bet Voldemort has sunk into secrecy and only reaches out to Uncle Lucius to use his wealth while misleading or distracting him with minor matters. Bellatrix has cut contact with her for certain—the Aurors really want my mother captured or killed, and probably monitor the Malfoys very closely. Aunt Narcissa might not be useful now, but that will change with time.”

“Do you think they will succeed?” he asked. “In cornering your mother, I mean.”

“…I don’t know.” Then, Juno groaned, rubbing her face. “I forgot to ask her…”

“Ask her what?”

“About any dirt on that skank Skeeter,” she allowed, lips thinning with displeasure. “I still haven’t forgotten how she slandered me last summer. But no matter how unhappy I am, my family never got anything on her.”

“No need for Malfoy for this,” her friend said, half-laughing. “Rita should be a beetle animagus—illegal and unregistered. Allowing her to—”

“Make scandalous scoops and sneak around undetected,” Juno finished, her eyes shining as she beamed at her friend. “Thank you, Harry—I know how to deal with her now!”

It would require some planning, but Skeeter would rue the day she messed with House Black and slandered Juno’s good name.

They also left the parlour and slipped through the now-overflowing bar filled with happy clamour, the clinking of cups, and scraping of forks and spoons—the patrons seemed especially eager to celebrate her mother’s ‘defeat’.

“Do you think Draco’s mum will catch him with Diana?” Harry asked suddenly.

“…I hope not,” Juno said, stifling a grimace. “Aunt Narcissa has probably apparated out to avoid being seen with us.”

But even if they evaded scrutiny for now, they could not keep… whatever was brewing between them under wraps. Not forever. She merely hoped it was some childish infatuation—a puppy’s love.

They left the warmth of the Three Broomsticks, and Juno almost regretted it. The chill outside had barely dwindled since the morning, and the wind had only grown fiercer, unpleasantly beating against her robes. 

“It looks like it will rain soon,” Juno murmured as she glanced at the sky, finding the clouds growing bigger and darker. “Do you need to purchase anything?”

“No.” Harry let out a long sigh. “Let’s just… find Diana and Draco, then.” 

Just as they passed the owl office, a few squeals echoed, and they were waylaid by a gaggle of older-year girls. 

Or to be more precise, Harry was.

“Potter—may we call you Harry?” one of them began, face flushed red. “Do you want to go with us to Honeydukes?”

Juno recognised her as Elyse Farlyn, a pretty fifth-year Hufflepuff with a chest that would make even a cow green with envy. Two Gryffindor fourth years were also present, and another Hufflepuff that she only knew by face.

“Yes, we’ll show you around and buy you some sweets—and then we can go to Madam Puddifoot’s.” A long-legged witch gave Harry a pouty smile. “Come, you don’t have to associate with this… jinx in the open.”

The last part was said rather loudly, attracting the attention of those passing by, who stopped and looked on with interest.

Soon, someone pointed at her, yelling, “Oh my, it’s Bellatrix Lestrange’s daughter!”

“Murderer!”

Dread pooled in Juno’s belly as, for a moment, it looked like the crowd loomed higher and higher, threatening to drown her in their discontent. She wanted to draw her wand, but it would be useless against this many, and the irritation and anger were not truly aimed at her, but at her mother. She felt helpless and hated it.

“She should not be allowed to study in Hogwarts—”

BANG!

It was as if a cannon had gone off, frightening the crowd quiet.

It was not the Auror patrol that came, but Amelia Bones, smoking wand raised high in the sky.

“It is not for you to decide who will study in Hogwarts, Merryweather.” Her voice was cold enough to freeze fire. “If you have any complaints about how the school is run, I’m sure Headmaster Dumbledore will be happy to hear them in his office.”

The dazed witches and wizards still blinked in confusion at the witch whose lips had thinned so much that Juno struggled to see them.

“Disperse, now,” she barked, the steel in her voice making many swallow with apprehension. “And don’t let me catch you making trouble for one of my students. Oh, and before I forget—fifty points from Hufflepuff for inciting the crowd with malicious intent and a month of detention with Hagrid, Miss Fairchild. I hope you enjoy shoving dragondung half as much as I will enjoy watching you do it.”

The crowd quickly melted away, seemingly cowed by Amelia Bones, while the older girl who had started this mess paled, but still clung to Harry’s arm. A hot, ugly feeling curled in Juno’s chest at the sight, making it hard to breathe, whether out of anger or frustration.

“B-But this is out of school, Professor Bones. I was just careless—”

Harry yanked his arm away from her grasp, shoving her away. “Don’t ever touch me again,” he said evenly, but Juno could see his eyes glow with anger. “Or get close to me—any of you.”

The gaggle of witches paled, unconsciously taking a step or two back, and Fairchild looked ready to cry—whether from the rejection or Bones’s punishment, Juno could not tell. A faint smell of smoke filled the air as if something were burning in the far distance. 

“Carelessness or not, actions have consequences.” Amelia loomed over the other girls, her stern face colder than an iceberg. “Go now, before I revoke your Hogsmeade privilege.”

The deputy headmistress watched as the girls reluctantly shuffled away, each turning around and glancing at Harry with a pitiful face.

“You two should be careful in public,” Bones said, regarding them with surprising warmth. “It might have been troublesome if I were not here.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be an Auror patrol stationed over in Hogsmeade?” Harry asked sharply.

“There is, but they’re having a bite in the Hog’s Head.” Amelia’s face was blank, but her voice was dripping with displeasure. “Or busy drinking, more like. Even if they were here, the Aurors wouldn’t lift a wand to deal with a student spat—”

“Ah, Professor Bones!” Slughorn’s voice echoed in the distance. “I have reserved a table over at the Three Broomsticks—”

“I’ll be going now,” the older witch excused herself, all but fleeing from the Potions Master.

“I should have cursed those damn slags, but the smiles and the laughter really caught me by surprise,” Harry swore in a low voice. Then, his eyes softened as he looked at her. “Are you well, Juno?”

Juno blinked, still feeling… frustrated, angry, and a whole tangle of emotions still coiled in her chest.

Jealousy. Why was she jealous?

Because they had touched her friend. But she had not felt jealous when Draco had all but glued himself to Diana. Then, the coming realisation came in like a bludger.

She liked Harry Potter.

Not just as a friend or in the way one would admire the powerful and capable worthy of it, but more. She liked—liked Harry like a witch liked a wizard. There was no reason… or perhaps there were all too many reasons. Harry Potter was easy to like.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered numbly. 

“Let’s get back to the castle, then,” Harry said, giving her that soft, lop-sided smile of his that made her heart flutter. “Perhaps Poppy can help.”

“I don’t think she can,” Juno said tightly, pushing her feelings down and trying to clear her mind. But Occlumency barely helped, as the frustration not only lingered but bubbled, threatening to overwhelm her.

Did Harry like her back?

Even if he did, was now the right time for such a thing?

Was there ever a right time?

She was the Lady of Houses Black and Lestrange, and could not… afford flings. Nor could she afford distractions—or risk her friendship with Harry Potter in any way. It was not a cold calculation made with utility in mind, though it would be better if it had been. 

Juno was simply afraid.

What if he told her off?

What if they broke up and destroyed their friendship in the process?

What if her mother tried to kill Harry for it?

She wanted to grow closer to Harry, but she feared losing what she had far more.

A faint humming sound had her freeze.

A beetle flew away from the owl’s office windowsill, buzzing with excitement.

Harry’s face turned into a mixture of irritation and anger as he drew his wand, but the beetle had already disappeared around the corner. A fleeting light pulsed from his wand.

“She’s already gone.” His mouth twisted. “Don’t be surprised if we feature in the next witch weekly. Or tomorrow’s Prophet. Probably something scandalously ridiculous.”

“That was Skeeter?” 

Dread pooled in her stomach.

“…I think so. I don’t see any other beetles in this damn cold, so…” Harry trailed off, looking resigned. “I should have just… stunned her or something, but I felt no threat, so I didn’t even think of using my wand. Ah, whatever. Skeeter is merely a nosy nuisance, but one that can be dealt with when the opportunity arises.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Juno said. “I’ll deal with her. It should be simple, now that I know her weakness.”

No, it was attacks on their good reputation that were unforgivable. Her friend was too soft to deal with this, unwilling to start any fights, so she would.

“Hey!” It was Diana, rushing to join them with a flushed face. Anthony Goldstein was there too, dragging his feet behind her, as was her cousin, who was glaring at the Ravenclaw boy with displeasure. “What were those folks crowding you for earlier?”

“Just some Hufflepuff girls stirring trouble,” Harry said nonchalantly. “We’ll get to see another one shovelling dragon dung with Hagrid for the next month.”

“Have you guys checked out the Shrieking Shack yet?”

The rest of the Hogsmeade visit felt like a blur, and Juno was lost in her thoughts for most of it. Somewhere in the afternoon, the wind stopped, and a cold, soaking rain began to pitter from the sky, forcing them to cut their plans short.

They had all raised their wands, conjuring a bluish, semi-transparent umbrella of magical energy to ward off the rain. 

On the way back, Juno spied the serpentine shadow slither into Harry’s boots, and his face grew serious. Juno tacitly slowed down her stride, lagging behind their friends.

“What is it?” she asked. “Did Nyx find something?”

“Unknown men deep in the forbidden forest.” Harry’s face grew taut. “They were making a camp, but somehow sensed Nyx and quickly fled.”

“Isn’t Nyx very good at hiding?”

“She is—at least when not careless.” Harry exhaled slowly. “She wasn’t careless today, and that’s why I’m worried. That and the fact that Nyx says they smelled of wolves.”

Author’s Endnote: Things happen in this chapter. 

To the bunch of folks complaining that Harry Potter got beaten by Amelia Bones, I can only say one thing. Everything I have written so far suggests this outcome, and if you did not see it coming or realise why, there’s not much I can do. Yes, Harry is strong. Very much so. But he should definitely lose to a veteran auror of twenty years of experience (who also went on a sabbatical for the good part of a whole year earlier in the fic to develop her magical skills further), that is the only known magical in the Ministry to get Voldemort to move personally. Probably the most powerful witch in the Ministry, easily as good as Mad-eye Moody, if not more. Certainly not as old and as crippled/scarred.

Editor’s Endnote: An actual date? And not just a business meeting? Is Juno finally discovering that Harry is, in fact, a boy?! Oh my! Soon they will be…ugh, holding hands!

How lewd!

Featuring: Harry “Begone Thots!” Potter, Draco “I’m in love” Malfoy, Diana “He’s kinda cute” Taylor, and Amelia “Those kids are precious” Bones.