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Chapter Text

Her heartbeat was hitting against her chest with anticipation. She had rehearsed herself so hard for this very moment and now it had all come down to this. There was no way she could fail, not now, she had planned it so meticulously. When she planned something everything went well, that's the way it had always been. She couldn't fail.

"So tell me, Isobel, why is it that you want to work at the Apothecary?"

"I'm really passionate about the art of potion-making," she said despite her cotton mouth, "it's my favourite lesson at Hogwarts. The bubble of the cauldron, the smell of the brew. Can't beat it can you."

This was a lie. A total lie.

What Isobel Monroe wanted to say was that she was desperate for money and that the Apothecary was the only shop currently hiring in Diagon Alley. She didn't give a crap about cauldrons, or ingredients, and Professor Snape had put her off the entire profession for life. However, something told her that Mr Galen wouldn't have accepted that as a suitable answer.

As the old store owner lifted her resume off the shop counter, Mr Galen's bushy grey eyebrows perused the writing on the parchment. Isobel's eyes nervously wandered around the dark room, taking in the different bottles scattered along chipped shelves - one particular bottle reflecting the dark green colour of her iris back at her.

"Well everything looks great, you passed all of your O.W.L's with flying colours - most Ravenclaws do, I know that myself," Mr Galen chuckled. Isobel's pink lips curled into a relieved smile, as for once her house could help her have an advantage, which had never happened before. "You have work experience in the Hogwarts Library and I must say that your recommendation letter from Professor Flitwick is outstanding...so I guess there's only one question left..."

The excitement built up within her. After weeks of searching, this was it. She was going to get a summer job that could help her save for her future plans. Isobel flicked her long brown hair back and held her head up high, ready to accept the offer of employment.

"...what's your blood status?"

Isobel's hopeful smile fell instantly into a frown, her mouth landing open. She had purposely kept this off of her details since the last draft of Ministry legislation and didn't think he would notice. Or, at least she hoped he wouldn't.

"I don't see why that's relevant," she snapped, choosing to go on the defensive.

Mr Galen sighed and rubbed his forehead with his aged hands. "Diagon Alley is going through some changes," he told her wearily, "with the constant raids and change in direction of the Wizarding World...most business owners are making it so only pure and half-bloods are employed. For business protection you see. So if you can just confirm which one you are then I can get you a contract drawn up."

Isobel hesitated, quickly debating how probable it would be for her to be caught in a lie of this magnitude.

"Pureblood," she answered, hoping to erase any doubts.

"Great," Mr Galen smiled with relief and he held out his hand in expectation to receive something, "I'm sure you've brought along your identification papers. If I could just check them to evidence your statement."

She naturally reached down the side of her yellow sundress to open the clasp of her handbag but then she hesitated when it hit her that she would now have to make up a reason as to why her papers didn't match the lie she had just told him. She stared gormlessly at the floor trying to think of something and without realising it she may have taken too long.

"Your papers please Miss Monroe," Mr Galen insisted, snapping his fingers at her.

Isobel lifted her hand out of her bag paperless and leaned forward on the shop counter, completely losing both her cool and her facade of not being desperate. "I'm a really good worker," she pleaded with him, "I promise. I'll work for cheaper than anyone else who'll apply."

The promise of cheap labour did not satisfy his experienced mind as his face suddenly turned as cold as a winter's morning, his warm welcoming smile contorting into a frosty sneer.

"I'm afraid the only price I would hire you at would be equal to a house-elf," he spat and he withdrew his body away from her like she had an infectious disease, "I'm sorry but I cannot move forward with your application."

"But Professor Flitwick," Isobel argued, "you're his friend-"

"He is, that doesn't mean he's got anything to do with my livelihood and how I run it," Mr Galen snarled as he stormed towards the door and opened it, shouting so that anyone on the street outside would be able to hear what he was saying, "now please leave or I'll have to remove you myself!"

Isobel was simply gobsmacked. She had been rejected before, by many employers in the last few weeks, but none of them had ever spoken to her like this.

Holding contempt for both the man in front of her and the societal views he had been forced to take on, she picked up a cutting knife from the 'Potion Accessories' shelf and stormed over to hold it up against his neck. He squirmed as the blade reached his throat and Isobel couldn't help but like that. Now he knew how she and all other muggleborns felt at the moment - forcefully pushed down against their will.

"Let's use this to cut both of us huh," she threatened to make a point, "I think you'll all find we bleed the fucking same."

With that last statement, she dropped the knife out of her hand and stormed out of the door, swearing wildly under her breath. Her furious stride took her straight to the row of shops opposite, specifically towards the bordered-up storefront of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. A petite blonde girl was standing outside of it dressed in bright periwinkle dungarees, holding two chocolate sundae cones and smiling at Isobel as she came towards her. The sun was in its prime in the heat of summer, and Isobel jumped into the shade with a sense of urgency.

"That was quick - what happened?" Luna Lovegood asked as Isobel slumped against the wall. Luna was Isobel's best friend and one of the only witches she could trust to always make sense. Sure, she was out there and kooky most of the time, but that's just how Isobel liked her, she didn't conform nor care about what people thought.

"Same as every other time," Isobel huffed as she took the ice cream Luna handed to her, "was looking good until they asked about my blood status. I might as well give up at this rate, no one is hiring muggleborns because they're too scared of what will happen if they do."

She took a lick of the ice cream and stared longingly at Florean's shop sign. Luna had gotten these from the shop along the alley, but it wasn't the same as Fortescue's. The shop had closed down since the owner's disappearance a couple of months ago, and it had left every sweet tooth with a bitter taste. Then again, there were so many disappearances these days that hardly anyone blinked an eye when it happened.

"It'll end eventually, it always does," said Luna in an attempt to bring her comfort. She lifted her hand and placed it on Isobel's right forearm, "people will fight."

"Yeah, but I don't know how much longer I can wait," Isobel grumbled, "with Dumbledore gone who's to say I'm even going to be safe at Hogwarts this year? Death Eaters broke in and killed our Headmaster Luna, who's to say it's not going to get worse this year."

Luna's large blue wonder-endearing eyes softened onto her friend. They had gone through this talk many times, and every time she had to watch Isobel get more and more deflated. Luna couldn't lie and say that everything would be alright, so all she could do was just be positive.

"Don't be down," she said with a kind smile, "there's no use when you don't have the control. Here, eat up and we'll take a walk up the street. I've got to get supplies for my new dress and you never know, someone else might be hiring."

Isobel doubted this very much as she had only just checked the Daily Prophet this morning for vacancies, but she appreciated that Luna might have run out of things to say to her by now and decided to be miserable about her shortcomings within her own head.

The two of them walked up Diagon Alley linked arm in arm as they enjoyed their mediocre ice creams and chatted about the things they saw in shop windows. Isobel was enchanted by the robes she saw in the front window of Madame Malkins, made of nothing but the finest gold silk, but Luna was less interested in grand clothes like these - instead becoming more fascinated with two old lilac buttons that were lying next to a drainpipe on the floor.

"Oh see, why would people disregard good stuff like this?" Luna questioned as she picked the buttons off of the floor, "these would make perfectly good earrings with a bit of fixing."

Isobel was slightly disgusted, as she wanted to remind Luna that most people wouldn't pick things up off the floor to wear, but that was Luna. Luna would always want to thrift instead of buying something sparkling. She saw the beauty in things no one else did, including Isobel herself.

"They would you know," Isobel agreed, "so why don't we go to Madam Malkins so you can treat yourself to a new dress to match? Just this once. You deserve it, you never spend anything."

"Oh but all that stuff in there is so boring, there's no ribbon or sparkle on anything," Luna answered dully as she tucked the buttons into her trouser pocket and started walking again, "besides, the people's whose wedding we're going to don't want us to buy anything new for it. We have to wear something we already own. It's the rules."

Isobel scoffed at this very odd command for a dress code. "How would they know? They don't work for the Ministry do they?"

Luna nervously looked down at her shoulder and fiddled with the strand of loose thread sticking out of her strap, pretending not to hear her. Her not answering this question did not fill Isobel with confidence.

"You're sure I can still come to this wedding as a plus one right?" Isobel asked, "These people seem really secretive, you won't even tell me who it is. Who's to say I'm going to be...welcome."

"They're not like that backwards old man in the Apothecary if that's what you're asking," Luna snapped at her defensively, "it's fine. You're coming. They trust my judgement and after I told them you were staying with us for the summer they could hardly say no."

"What, because if I stayed home alone I risk getting kidnapped by Death Eaters?" Isobel joked as she took another lick of her ice cream, "Well don't worry I wouldn't dare take the limelight away from the Chosen One-"

"I told you, if you're not going to speak of them nicely then we don't speak about them," Luna interrupted sternly, though Luna's nature hardly allowed her to be forceful. Even angry words came out like songful chimes.

"Oh yeah," said Isobel sarcastically, "because they deserve me to be nice to them. They called you 'Loony Lovegood' for years for fuck sake, as well as calling me-"

"They apologised for that."

"Not to me! It's alright for you, getting accepted into their little secret golden gang. But for me, they still treat me like im-"

"Oh look Isobel!"

Luna had spotted something stuck to a building window and dragged Isobel alongside her to take a closer look. Isobel wasn't sure if it was because Luna was genuinely interested in it or if she thought it would get her off-topic, but she went with her anyway. The poster Luna was referring to stood out from all the other notices on there due to its size and purple & orange colour scheme, and Isobel was instantly intrigued when she saw it was a job advertisement.

It read:

"Help Wanted! We are looking for a reliable, trustworthy person with an aptitude for mischief to come and work for us over the summer to help us manage our ever-growing business. Must be willing to not take themselves too seriously and not mind if the owners occasionally use them for product testing purposes."

"It could be one for you!" Luna said excitedly, "You're reliable!"

"Oh that is ridiculous," Isobel replied, being slightly more pessimistic than her friend, "why would I be willing to let some crackpot test on me in my final year, I'd have to be mad and stupid for which I am neither. The owners sound like idiots."

"No don't focus on that bit," Luna nudged her, "look at the next bit!"

Isobel, for the sake of Luna's entertainment, read on.

"The right candidate is important to us, so we will pay double the hourly rate of any shop in Diagonal Alley. All we ask is that you have the right attitude and aren't a slab-faced miserable git. "

"Double?" Isobel gasped as her mouth fell to the floor, "Double?!"

"And that's not all!" squeaked Luna as she pointed a sparkly fingernail at the poster.

Isobel leaned in to see what she was pointing at and noticed that there was an extra bit of text at the bottom as a footnote.

"And don't worry, at our shop, everyone is welcome. We welcome applicants of all types: Purebloods, Half-bloods, Muggle-borns, Werewolfs, Vampires, Centaurs and Grindillows...all the way to Pygmy Puffs and Mufflers.

We welcome everyone.

Except if your name is Dolores Umbridge.

If you are Dolores Umbridge and you enter our store, please note that we are not responsible for any injury or near-death experience you may incur inside."

Her prayers had been answered. There was an employer welcoming muggle-borns with double the salary of any other shop here. She would have a level playing field for once, and she was sure to get in with her CV.

"Oh shit, Luna this is it!" Isobel shouted happily as she gripped Luna's arm tight and jumped up and down, "You were so right! I shouldn't have doubted you!"

"Right?" Luna asked airily as she lazily jumped with her in sync, "what was I right about?"

Luna was always in another world and never recognised her own brilliance, but that was the glory of being friends with her.

"About people wanting to fight," Isobel told her and she ripped the job advert off the board, "these guys are the people for me, and double the wage! I'm going to apply right now, what shop even is this? It must be new!"

"It says 93, Diagon Alley..." Luna read as she traced the small print at the top of the parchment. Isobel immediately looked around and excitedly walked up the street with the job advert in her hand, counting up the shop numbers as she went.

...87...89...91...

Then she saw it. Number 93, Diagon Alley.

She saw the obnoxious colours. The fireworks and explosions coming from the inside. The huge ego-trip model head of the owners on top of the door. It was easily the most attention-seeking shop on the street.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes...now the double pay made sense. They just had to be the boldest and outrageous business, didn't they? Couldn't just be normal about anything. All hope and positivity within Isobel was squashed immediately with her biggest disappointment yet.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Isobel said casually, crumpling the parchment into a ball, "even with a million sickles you wouldn't catch me dead in there."

Luna was just behind her and narrowed her eyebrows in disbelief at her sudden change of heart. "What, are you kidding?" she said, "this is Fred and George's place, everyone wants to work here!"

"We'll the jobs probably already gone then, no point trying," Isobel shrugged and she sulkily took another bite of her ice cream as she glared up at the bright lights in front of her, "I told you last time we came here Luna, there's nothing you could do to get me to step foot in that shop. I'm surprised it's even still going with those two idiots running it."

She turned around to retreat back up Diagon Alley and Luna skipped quickly to catch up with her. "Oh Iz," Luna sighed sympathetically as she struggled to keep up the pace, "don't tell me you're still mad about it."

"Mad?" Isobel retorted as she carried on walking, "You know I'm not that petty to hold a grudge about that night. I do however still loathe them with my entire being, and that's based on years of experience."

"It was years ago...you know they didn't mean it."

"Yeah, and that's what they rely on," Isobel replied as she threw the crumpled-up piece of parchment into a bin, "people not holding them responsible for their actions. I'm not applying. In fact, I hope to never see either of those two again. That's one of the benefits of moving away, I'll never breathe the same air as anyone named Weasley again."

"Well you may see them one more time..." Luna mumbled quietly.

"Yeah well Hogwarts is a given but I doubt Ron will stay taking N.E.W.T potions...he's a blithering idiot just like them," Isobel ranted, "thank god Professor Slughorn favoured me last year otherwise I would've failed my mocks when he bumped into my cauldron. I spent days getting that stain out of my robes and did he apologise? Nope. He was too busy comforting the golden child because our Headmaster died."

"Well I actually meant before then," Luna said nervously.

Isobel looked down at her best friend and instantly noticed all of the signs of her hiding something. Her sheepish avoidance of eye contact, her nose twitching like she had an itch, and her biting her nails when she usually wanted them to grow.

"Oh no...," Isobel said with reluctance, "Luna please don't tell me they're going to this wedding you're bringing me to."

Luna continued to eat her ice cream as a distraction and talked to her without looking as if nothing was wrong. "We kind of all have mutual family friends you see, the entire Weasley family is going to be there."

Isobel halted outside the Owl Emporium and dropped her cone onto the floor. Some of the cold ice fell on her boots and she huffed as some of the owls started hooting in their cages at the prospect of free food. She couldn't believe Luna hadn't mentioned this, especially after knowing how she felt about that family.

"I'm not going," she announced firmly, "you can't make me."

"But you have to!" Luna whined, "The bride has already made us placemats!"

"Well, she can un-make them," Isobel retaliated whilst mimicking her voice, "I'd rather take my chances with being alone and fending off the Death Eaters thank you."

She attempted to strop off but Luna held her back. For such a small girl she was still very feisty. "Isobel Monroe you are being ridiculous. Fred and George haven't seen you in ages, and I know you don't believe it, but they've matured. They might have even forgotten about you and everything will be fine."

"I'm pretty sure those two wouldn't know mature if it hit them in the face," Isobel muttered, but Luna had that look in her eye that made her feel guilty for being difficult.

Deep down she knew she had to go to the wedding. As much as she pretended she would rather take her chances with the Death Eaters than see the Weasleys, the Weasleys hadn't tried to kill her...yet. It was between Avada Kedavra and uncomfortable conversation and at least with an uncomfortable conversation, it wasn't certain death.

Even if it felt like it.

"Fine...is Percy going to be there?" she asked Luna. Out of all of them, that brother was the only one she ever thought was normal.

Luna shook her head sadly, unable to provide the answer Isobel was hoping for. "He's kind of separated himself from the family, so no."

Well, finally, a Weasley she could understand. She always knew he was the smartest one out of the bunch but she put in a mental note to give him a high five if she ever saw him anyway. Living with brothers like those would've driven her away too.

"Is anyone going to be there that I like?" Isobel sighed, almost begging Luna to give her more information than she had let on previously. She needed a reason to look forward to it.

At this, Luna lit up. She seemed to think that she had a good answer to this question.

"Of course there is, the groom will be there," she said happily.

Isobel stropped and crossed her arms in protest. "But you haven't told me who the groom is Luna, how do you know I'm going to like him."

"Oh, you'll like him alright," Luna teased her with a grin, "he was one of your favourite teachers!"

Chapter Text

"The stupid nargles must have shrunk it on purpose!" came the muffled voice of Luna Lovegood as she struggled to pull her frilly purple dress over her head. It was a couple of days later, the Saturday of the big wedding, and the two girls were busy getting ready in Luna's small but colourful bedroom. Isobel was putting rose blusher over her cheeks when she looked over her shoulder to see what the fuss was about.

"Nargles? It's because you didn't put in a zip!" Isobel chuckled as she jumped up to help her. She tugged on the dress to allow it to slowly slide down Luna's body, causing her blonde head to finally pop out of the neck hole, "if you insist on making these yourself at least make sure you can put it on!"

"It fit last time," said Luna all red-faced, "I'm telling you, they're trying to get back at me after I put that article about them in the Quibbler last year." Her golden curls fell in front of her face as she set them loose around her collar, staring at Isobel's body. "I'm so glad the dress I made you fits!"

Isobel smoothed down the simply strapped emerald dress Luna had made her the day before and twirled, showing off how it perfectly clung to her body to the floor. "I'm so glad I have a friend who knows how to make clothes," Isobel responded happily and she lifted Luna's arm, twirling her around so that her dress flared out fully.

"Are you nearly ready girls?" Xenophilius Lovegood called as he knocked on the door with one hand. The rest of his body was hidden behind the wall, meaning he didn't want to accidentally walk in and see something that he shouldn't have.

"We're decent Dad," Luna responded and they both pretended not to laugh at Xeno's innocent actions, "we're not late again are we?"

Xeno appeared in the doorway wearing gloriously mismatched dress robes of yellow and blue and carrying a tea tray with three mugs. Though the colour clash was bad, it complemented his white wavy hair and light complexion. Isobel could tell his robes were quite old, but Luna had freshened it up with some stitching on the waistcoat - two wolf-like creatures facing each other towards the middle buttons. It looked quite interesting.

"No, you can never be too late when you're celebrating love," Xeno said joyously as he handed a mug each to Isobel and Luna.

It was a tradition in the Lovegood house to drink this special herbal tea before going out on a special occasion. It was meant to shoo away the bad spirits apparently, but Isobel never really believed it. She usually tried to swallow it all in one go as well as it wasn't the nicest of things to swallow down.

"I can't believe Professor Lupin's getting married," Isobel said as Xeno filled up her mug with slightly blue hot water, "I can't imagine him acting all lovey-dovey with a woman."

"Oh everyone's capable of falling in love if they open themselves to it," Xeno replied wisely as he filled up Luna's mug, "especially my Luna, even though I'd prefer it if she stayed here with me forever."

He pinched Luna's cheeks in a fatherly way whilst Luna smiled shyly up at him. Out of everyone she knew, Luna and Xeno had the closest parent-child relationship Isobel had ever seen, even more than her own. Though she wasn't there when Mrs Lovegood died, she had seen first-hand how each of them needed each other to carry on after her passing. She had no idea how Xeno was going to cope if Luna ever left the house permanently.

Isobel looked down at the bubbling liquid inside her mug and gulped hollowly. "I mean I think I'm just surprised he's marrying Nymphadora Tonks," she muttered and then downed the thing in one. She had never gotten used to the strong perfume-like taste.

"What do you mean?" asked Luna as she sipped her drink delightfully, "because of the age gap?"

"No," Isobel spluttered, a bit of the tea refusing to go down and making her cough, "I just meant I always thought he was..."

"Was what?"

Luna and Xeno were looking at her so curious that she gave up speaking in an attempt to avoid a controversial conversation. Besides, her observations weren't always correct...they just happened to be right most of the time.

"Nothing," Isobel said and she thanked Xeno for the tea before going to sit back down on the floor in front of her travel mirror. The Lovegoods didn't have mirrors in their house, believing it to be risky in case one of them got broken, but they allowed her to always bring one as long as she promised to be careful.

"What's up with her?" she heard Xeno whisper to Luna as she searched through her make-up bag to continue getting ready.

"Isobel's feeling quite anxious at the moment," Luna whispered back honestly, "she's having to face some bad memories today."

Isobel rolled her eyes as she applied some mocha-coloured lipstick to her bottom lip, trying to avoid catching a glimpse of the mural Luna had painted on her ceiling. It involved her, which she appreciated, but it also included the rest of that so-called Dumbledore's Army, which made her feel like setting fire to it.

"Why?" Xeno whispered back to Luna, "She didn't use to date one of those Weasley's fellas, did she? If they hurt her I'll be having some words-"

Isobel forced a laugh, consequently causing her to grab ahold of the right side of her waist which twitched in reaction. She saw Luna look over at her with concern in the reflection of the mirror and she shook her head slightly, telling Luna to not acknowledge it. Xeno didn't know the injury still hurt her and given the day she was about to have, it was best he remained ignorant.

"No I haven't dated any of them," Isobel told Xeno kindly, realising she might have been rude, "it's just, I'm not friends with any of them like Luna is."

"Oh well that's okay, weddings are a great way to get to know people," said Xeno cheerfully as he clapped his hands together in enjoyment, "and we could have a little dance, it'll be great fun. I could even see if I can help you get a job, those Weasleys have got that shop, haven't they? They're not like that grumpy old Galen, I'm never buying from him again Isobel I swear to you on my life."

"That would be great, good idea Dad," said Luna, her eyes lighting up at Isobel's less-than-pleased reaction to Xeno's offer, "I'm sure Isobel would be thrilled if you got her a job there."

"Yes," Isobel smiled through gritted teeth in order to not offend the man who was like her second father, "that would be great, thank you."

She would rather have had him say he would talk with the Devil to get her a job in hell.

***

An hour later, Isobel, Luna and Xeno found themselves walking up to an old castle ruin on the border of Yorkshire. The sun was beaming down golden summer rays upon them and dry grass crunched beneath their shoes, feeling completely immersed in this mid-summer day.

"It's gorgeous," Isobel said as she admired the white stone turrets that had wonderfully been preserved after all those years of abandon, "what made them choose it?"

"Remus mentioned it having sentimental value," said Xeno, "but in reference to what I have no idea."

There was a noise like a singular twirl of a hurricane and two older wizards in matching magenta robes apparated next to them. Xeno immediately made conversation with them and said hello, leaving Luna and Isobel to talk amongst themselves.

"I can't wait to see what this looks like at night," Luna said dreamily, "it's got no roof so we'll be able to see the stars when it gets dark."

"Yeah, and we'll be the first to know when it rains," joked Isobel.

"Actually they've put up a load of charms meaning we won't get wet if it rains," Luna explained, "and security charms. We should go up to the top after the first dance and stargaze."

"Well that's something to look forward to," said Isobel and she linked Luna's arm with her own, "but security charms? How much hellraising do they think is going to happen?"

"Well, it's because Lupin is a werewolf, you know the laws around it are getting stricter."

"Oh, they're getting stricter? I never would've noticed," Isobel said sarcastically.

Luna knowingly tilted her head towards her. She knew Isobel's sarcasm was the only way she could stay positive about things. "Well, that's also why we have security too, quite a few muggle-borns are coming including Tonks's dad. It's just easier to have peace of mind and let Kingsley do his thing."

Isobel's lips parted with surprise. "Wait, Kingsley...Shacklebolt?" she asked, "As in the Auror? How many Aurors are going to be at this thing?"

"Just three," answered Luna plainly as she followed an incoming bee with her eyes, "but Moody doesn't really count, he's retired."

"Oh well, that makes me feel safe."

"I don't see what's wrong with it."

"Hmm let me think," Isobel pondered as she stared up at the bright blue sky, "The Ministry frowns upon Werewolves getting married to witches yes? And the Aurors work for the Ministry, meaning this whole thing is one big rebellion. So, we have three rebel Aurors, one of which was impersonated by a death eater in my fourth year, a Werewolf, muggle-borns, and descendants of the Black family - the most pureblood bloodline to ever in exist - all in attendance. This is quite frankly the strangest grouping of people I've ever heard of!"

"Strange?" Luna retorted, no longer distracted by the bee, "May I remind you that you once found me strange also."

"You're confusing strange with fascinating, I never found you strange," Isobel quickly told her to avoid any doubt.

This was true, when Luna joined Hogwarts in her second year Isobel couldn't believe her luck. Someone had finally joined who didn't think like the others, and she suddenly didn't feel so isolated anymore. They bonded immediately over their curiosity as Isobel was fascinated by the handmade jewellery Luna wore. They liked the same things such as spirits and unusual creatures, and cared about things that most of their fellow students didn't. It was a shame they weren't in the same classes, but it did have its benefits, as when Pansy Parkinson or the rest of the Slytherin bullies stole from Luna she was always able to reach into their bag when they weren't looking and retrieve the stolen item. It happened more regularly than Isobel would have liked to admit and it did make her sad that she was invisible enough for Pansy Parkinson to never suspect her.

She looked down at Luna's face and softened, seeing the buttons she had found in Diagon Alley hanging off her ears as dangly earrings. "Look I'm sorry okay," she said, "I'm just on edge because of everything happening with muggle-borns. It's smart to be vigilant about this kind of thing."

"Right you are, finally someone around here with some goddamn sense."

A familiar grumpy-looking man had appeared at their side and had started aggressively limping towards the castle with a large wooden cane. He wasn't as nicely dressed as the other guests, with his brown leather overcoat having all kinds of scrapes and scratches on it, but it was his face that was the most out-of-place thing about him - with one of his eyes being false.

"A wedding at a time like this...," the man tutted and he looked at the two girls, his false eye whirling around onto Isobel, "what's wrong with your friend Luna?"

Isobel was subconsciously leaning as far onto Luna as she could, trying not to make a sudden move as she was speechless with fear.

"Sorry Mad-eye," Luna apologised as she squeezed Isobel's arm. She leaned across Isobel's body to whisper to him like a mother wanting to say something away from her child, "She's a student at Hogwarts and she hasn't seen you since you know, you weren't you."

Alistair Moody glared at Isobel with his one good eye and observed her. This did not make her feel any more welcoming towards him.

"And you...have?" Isobel asked Luna out of the corner of her mouth.

"Of course she has," Moody answered loudly, "I saved her life in the bloody department of mysteries a year ago."

Isobel was torn between being polite and also not wanting to offend, so she chose to just smile and nod. "Oh, that's nice."

Luna had to stop herself from laughing and looked away at the forest surrounding them.

"You're the muggle-born right?" Moody grunted.

Isobel nodded. She was becoming far too used to strangers addressing her this way by now, and she was sure that in the not-so-distant future, it was going to be more common to identify someone by their blood status rather than by their name.

"Right," said Moody, "Well don't leave the perimeters of the castle and with any luck, we'll all survive the night."

With that he gave them one last glare and surged ahead, huffing all of the way towards the entrance of the castle. Isobel stared after him, now less determined to attend this wedding more than ever. She had never met someone who had mentioned the threat of death ever so frivolously.

"I also saved his life at the astronomy tower a couple of weeks ago," Luna whispered proudly, "but he seems to have forgotten that hasn't he."

Isobel shot a surprised look down at Luna, who raised her eyebrows approvingly. She wanted to ask her why she never knew she had saved an Aurors life, but then she realised it would involve Potter and his friends, and they had an agreement not to talk about anything involving them or Dumbledore's Army.

"Charming man," said Isobel dully, "can't wait to see what all the other guests are like. Let me guess, centaurs and house elves?"

"No, Hermione said Dobby couldn't make it," Luna answered with a tone of disappointment.

Isobel chuckled but then did a double-take when she saw that Luna wasn't joking. She was actually referring to a house-elf that had been invited.

Xeno said goodbye to the wizards he was talking to and gave his attention back to the two girls to enter the venue. Though partly looking shabby on the outside, the main roof-less entrance of the castle was miraculously renovated on the inside. There was an abundance of candles decorated around the place and Lupine flowers of red, pink, white, and purple were scattered everywhere that they could've been placed. Only three rows of five wooden chairs were set out on either side of a long white carpet, leading to a beautiful archway of vines and daisies that was being used as the altar. It was clear the bride had determined the decorations, as Isobel could not imagine Professor Lupin choosing such bright and colourful features.

Her thoughts were confirmed correct when they made their way to the back of the aisles, seeing Lupin and a tall red-headed man greeting guests and showing them to their seats. Lupin was wearing nothing different to what Isobel was used to seeing him in, a brown cotton suit that was slightly too big for him, however today he had added a matching waistcoat and tie which appeared to have been lent to him by a friend. He was more aged now, the scars on his face blending in with his deep worry lines.

"Don't you think this is a bit too much Arthur?" Lupin asked the red-headed man quietly, "I mean I appreciate Molly took the time to set this up but, oh if James and Sirius were here now..."

"They would've been much worse," the man now known as Arthur replied wisely, "Sirius especially would have had us all in a decorating team for the past six months to make sure everything was perfect."

"Very true," Professor Lupin laughed sadly. He stared at the floor, his eyes going motionless for a moment as if only one single thought was occupying his mind.

"What a miraculous day!" said Xeno, ignoring the two men's private chat and inserting himself brightly into the scene to hug Lupin, "the Lupines especially...the muggles say they're meant to bring the energy of inner strength. We need that now more than ever, don't we? Isn't that right Izzy?"

"Yep, that's right," Isobel answered shyly as Luna hugged Arthur, "I read it in a book once."

"Well, that's uh..good news," Lupin wheezed as he recovered from Xeno's stronghold, "well thank you for coming Xeno...oh my.."

Lupin had noticed Isobel standing there and his fake smile curled up into a real attempt at showing happiness. "No, it can't be, busy-Izzy Monroe...my god you've grown."

He pulled her in for a polite hug and she smelt the same scent of coffee and chocolate that she had gotten used to when he had taught her. It would've been a nice moment if he hadn't used the very nickname she had hoped to escape for the entirety of the summer though. He and a few other teachers had coined it in her third year due to her always studying and handing in her homework promptly and unfortunately, it had spread all throughout the students and stuck.

Not always in the best way either.

"Oh good, you remember me then," she said as they broke apart, "it's good to see you, Professor."

"Oh please, drop the Professor," Lupin said humbly, and he nudged Arthur beside him to get his attention, "you know when Molly showed me the seating plan and I said that there was a student coming that could rival Granger?"

"Oh yes, in Ron's year," said Arthur, and he smiled as he shook Isobel's hand, "Arthur Weasley. It's a shame I haven't heard you talked about if you're a friend of Luna's and Ron's."

"Oh, I'm not," Isobel replied, and then she quickly realised what she had said, "I mean, I'm in Ravenclaw so that's how Luna and I are friends but...I'm not that close with anyone from other houses."

She thought that was a nice way of putting it. Arthur seemed nice.

"Probably too busy studying as well," Lupin said fondly to Arthur, "when I was at Hogwarts this one's head was always stuck in a book at the library, no time for anything else. So tell me, how many O.W.L's did you end up getting?"

Isobel smiled and replied to him reluctantly, especially after the comparison to Hermione Granger he had made just a moment before. "Ten."

This was the same as Hermione, however, Hermione got one more outstanding than she did, making her the top of their year. No one ever got awarded for second place at Hogwarts, with a few exceptions that weren't ever for people like her.

"Not surprised," Remus smiled, "and an Outstanding in Dark Arts I hope, even with our friend Umbridge?"

"Of course," said Isobel with a smirk, "you taught me how to deal with dark creatures of all types Professor."

They grinned at each other and everyone else shared giggles as it was a mutual experience that Dolores Umbridge wasn't exactly the most popular person in the wizarding world. Isobel had grown to dislike her as much as the rest of them did, but she was ashamed to say that she hadn't started out that way.

"Oh, would you look at the time," said Arthur as he checked his watch. "You best take your seats, Remus, get to the front of the aisle, it's nearly time!"

"Arthur you really are taking your role as best man far too seriously," said Lupin, but he did go with him anyway, the two men patting each other on the back as they walked up the aisle greeting everyone they walked past. A small rounded woman jumped to Arthur's side to straighten his suit jacket, and as she came from a row filled with bright red hair Isobel guessed she was his wife. Both of them looked normal and from humble homes, not the type to raise the kids they had at all.

"Well we best take our seats then girls," said Xeno and he ushered Isobel and Luna towards the back set of chairs.

"What lovely flowers," Luna observed as she traced her fingers along the bouquets that bookended every row, "are you better now Isobel? I told you Remus would be happy to see you."

"Yeah I wish he hadn't brought up Granger though," Isobel mumbled as she stepped into the row, "...and since when did you call him Remus?"

"Well, that's what everyone in the Order calls him."

"What's the Orde-hey!"

Isobel was shoved forward by an elbow plunging into her back, causing her to fall over onto her heels and topple on top of Luna. Both of them fell onto the row of chairs behind and Luna grumbled as Isobel rolled off onto the floor, clutching onto her right set of ribs which she had jabbed on the corner of a chair.

"Oh for god sake boys how many times have I got to tell you!" Arthur shouted from the alter, "Act your age!"

Luna helped Isobel stand up to her feet and as she brushed down her dress, Isobel flicked the hair away from her eyes to search around for the culprit of their attack. To her disdain, two boys were staring back at her, covering their mouths and trying not to laugh. Her blood boiled in fury as she saw the red hair, the newly bought tailored silk waistcoats, and the smiles that never took anything seriously for blood or money. It was the very guests she had hoped to avoid, and they had just entered in the way that she had expected them to - with chaos and carelessness.

"Sorry," said George Weasley, somewhat meaning the words but still chuckling as he said it.

"Yeah sorry Luna," added Fred Weasley, smirking lazily at his brother's side. He looked Isobel up and down in a way that made her feel violently sick, her being reminded of how intrusive she had always found his gaze, "and uh...Luna's friend."

With that they turned around to walk towards the alter, sitting in the front row alongside Ron, their mother, a blonde girl whose face she couldn't see and an older boy Isobel didn't recognise. Isobel huffed in their direction and sat down two seats in, wanting just to fade away from the view of the other guests. A few seconds later, a small violinist began to play, and everyone stood up waiting for the bride to walk in.

Isobel suppressed a groan as Hermione Granger walked in wearing a pale pink tea dress, looking all innocent and pure as she scattered flower petals on the floor. As Hermione passed she gave a little smile to Luna but didn't acknowledge Isobel in the slightest.

Ginny Weasley followed in behind her in a light lavender gown, presumably in the position of chief bridesmaid given the small wedding party. There was sniffling heard from the front, and Isobel glanced over to see Mrs Weasley shedding a tear to all of her son's dismay. Ginny winked at Luna when she saw her in the row and to Isobel's surprise, she also smiled at her too. Isobel's eyes widened at the act and she allowed herself to think that Ginny did look quite pretty.

There were 'oohs' and 'ahs' as Tonks finally entered, accompanied by both her mother and father on each arm. There was no denying it, she simply looked stunning, with her bright blue hair tied neatly in a low bun and her lace dress fitting her body like a glove. It was quite traditional and plain, with long sleeves and a train, and the slightly off-white colour meant it had been passed down through the generations. It was a beautiful moment as she glided through the aisle, cheekily giving a wink to anyone she could make eye contact with, and everyone had their eyes on the blushing bride right through to when she met Lupin at the alter.

Well...almost everyone.

Isobel had been watching Tonks and had whole-heartedly had the intention of only looking at the happy couple throughout the ceremony, but as soon as Tonks made her way through the front row, Isobel couldn't help but get distracted by the ginger boys who were peering over her head. It wasn't just because of the summer heat that Isobel suddenly had come over all hot...it was fury, pure unconditional fury.

Lunas friend...Luna's... friend?

Luna was right, Fred and George had forgotten all about her. It had only been a year since their last proper interaction and they didn't even recognise her after being face to face. After all that they had done, after all she had suffered because of them....they had been allowed to simply forget. It just simply wasn't fair.

But she was going to make them remember. Oh yes, she was. She was stronger now, and smarter, and had a lot lower tolerance for their bullshit. They were going to remember the name of Isobel Monroe if it was the last thing she did. She was going to get them back for everything. There was nothing that was going to stop the hatred running through her veins.

"Izzy," Luna whispered, tugging at her dress.

Isobel pulled out of her thoughts to realise that the ceremony had started, and everyone else had sat down except for her. She quickly sat down too and snapped out of it, slumping in her chair out of embarrassment. No, she wasn't going to get revenge, that would be petty, that would just be stupidly going down to their level. She was just experiencing a rush of old emotions that's all. It was perfectly normal when seeing people whom you thought you would never see again, people whom you absolutely despised.

Ignore them, she thought. That's it, she was going to ignore them and be mature. It was only for one night, and she had dealt with much more difficult situations than this. She was going to have a good time with Luna and Xeno and enjoy the wedding for what it was, a celebration. They weren't worth her attention.

She wasn't going to let Fred and George Weasley ruin another one more fucking night of her life.

Chapter Text

25th December, Second Year:

"Engorgio!....oh come on...Engorgio!...oh why won't you work...Engorgio!!!"

A twelve-year-old Isobel slammed her wand onto the table frustratedly after failing to make her quill grow by even a mere centimetre.

She was sitting in her favourite corner of the library working on her homework, and as it was Christmas Day and most of the students at Hogwarts had gone home for the holidays, she was alone.

Isobel slouched in her chair, repositioned her blue and silver headband that had dropped onto her forehead, and looked out the window - the white glistening snow covering the school ground like a thick blanket of beauty. The orange glow from her candle made it rather cosy, and though she had chosen to stay here rather than go home, it was the most Christmassy she had felt this whole time. She liked the quiet, she liked the snow and the chill it brought to the castle, and she liked being surrounded by magical books. 

"Heads up!"

"Ow! Hey that's not fair my back was turned!"

"You snooze you lose little brother!"

Isobel's glance was distracted to look to the left where a few kids were having a snowball fight on the field just outside the greenhouses. She recognised them instantly as a few of the Weasley brothers due to their red hair - Percy, George and Ron who was in her year, as well as a few other kids including Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. George had thrown a rather large snowball at Ron's head, and it was like he had a rather bad case of dandruff.

"I'm going to get you for that George! Harry, help me!" she saw Ron shout. 

"Oh no I'm shaking," said George who was creating another large snowball with Hermione's help, "don't petrify me Harry!"

Isobel didn't think that joke was rather funny. Since the start of the term, there had been a series of attacks on the residents of Hogwarts that ended up with them being petrified. It had become increasingly clear that muggle-borns had been the targets, and as a muggle-born herself, she had found the whole thing quite frightening. She certainly wouldn't joke about it, especially since there had been a rumour that Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin and was the one opening the Chamber of Secrets. George didn't seem to believe it, but there was still a large majority that did.

As it was Christmas, Isobel had started to forget about that, but now the fear was quickly coming back to her - so she looked away from the window and picked up her wand to try her charm's homework once again.

"Engorgio!"

The quill didn't move as expected, so Isobel tutted and tried again.

"Engorgio!"

The quill didn't move. Not even an inch.

"Engorgio!"

Defeated, she knew it was probably going to be a failure if she did it another time, so she decided to do it one more time with more elaborate wand movements. If it failed this time it was only because she was trying to be funny.

"Engorgio!"

The quill shook on the table. She couldn't believe it. It hadn't grown in size like it was meant to, but she had done something.

Her eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Engorgio!" she said happily and the quill shook again, actually growing a little this time. Isobel laughed with glee and sat up straight, narrowing her eyes so that she could concentrate on it with her full attention, "Engorgio!"

"Ginny?!"

A voice shouted from outside the library and Isobel's concentration broke, causing her quill to not move again and shrivel back to its original size. Her heart sank as the happiness faded from her small green eyes. Shoes ran along the wooden floorboards as the wearer entered the library, squeaking as they stopped to check around every corner.

"Ginny is that you?... Hello!...Ginny!...Bloody hell where are you?... I swear if you're hiding from us with that bloody diary again I'll-"

The other Weasley twin who was missing from the snowball fight - Fred - strode around the corner to where Isobel was sitting. He was red-faced underneath his bobble hat from the cold and his navy coat was covering a green jumper with the letter 'F' imprinted on it. Isobel could tell it was hand-knitted from the unevenness but was confused as to why it had his initial on it unless it was an extreme name-tag scenario with George.

"You're not Ginny," he breathed disappointedly.

It was the first time any Weasley had spoken to her that wasn't to ask her for some quill ink in class, and as Fred and George were popular older boys, her face blushed. "No I'm not," Isobel replied matter-of-factly, "but if it helps you won't find her in here. I've been the only one in here since it opened."

Fred pulled off his hat, revealing his bright red hair that was just starting to grow on the longer side and he shook it out so that the last few snowflakes fell to the floor in water droplets. "Thanks," he sighed and after he put his hat in his pocket, he slumped around to walk away.

Isobel stared at the spot Fred had stood in for a fleeting second and went back to her homework, choosing to move on from the engorgio charm and picking up her quill to write the next answer about levitating charms.

"Please tick all that apply," Isobel read out loud, "in which conditions should you not perform a levitating-"

"Did you say you've been in here since it opened?" said Fred as he walked back into sight.

"Yes," Isobel replied, slightly annoyed that he had broken her focus once again, "why?"

"It's Christmas Day," he said with a smile, "why are you spending it inside instead of being with your friends?"

Isobel looked down nervously at her parchment and fiddled with her quill. "All of my friends have gone home," she answered (which was the truth, Luna had gone home to her dads), "they thought it best considering current events. So, I'm using the time to catch up on extra homework."

She had asked Professor Flitwick for more work yesterday. It was the subject she was doing the worst in and she couldn't stand it. Ever since she had told her parents what being put in Ravenclaw meant they had been so proud, and they always asked about her grades so she couldn't let them down by failing a class in her second year.

"And you're not scared?" Fred asked curiously as he leaned against the bookcase, "Are you pureblood?"

"No, I'm a muggle-born," Isobel told him.

She saw the smallest glimmer of concern on Fred's face as he took this fact in and looked around him. "Then why are you alone? Even some seven-year muggleborns I know are so scared that they travel around in groups."

"Because believe it or not this place is much safer than where I live," Isobel replied, "I'm more likely to get hit by a car than I am to be murdered by whatever is petrifying students here - and I can't use magic to stop a car can I. I'll take my chances where the best wizards in the country are."

Fred pouted as if to agree with her logic even though she was unclear whether he understood what she had meant.

"What are you working on then?" he asked as he eyed her parchment.

"Charms," Isobel sighed at his nosiness as she picked up her quill and dipped it in ink.

"Ah cool," said Fred as he looked over his shoulder, appearing to be looking out for something, "nearly finished?"

"Not really," Isobel replied, "I've just had to skip the engorgio charm question because I couldn't do it and the last question is an essay. I won't be done for another two hours."

Fred's eyes widened as if confused as to why she was even bothering. "But, the feast is in half an hour," he said casually as he looked around the library, "you'll be taking a break for that right?"

Isobel shrugged, re-reading the question with her finger pacing along with each word on the parchment, "No, I said I'd hand it into Flitwick by Boxing day and I have to stick to my word, so I guess I'll have to skip it."

Fred stopped looking around and his mouth fell open aghast. "Skip it-" he muttered breathlessly, "right move over."

He pulled over a chair from another desk in the library and placed it alongside Isobel's, pushing her against the wall as he sat on it because of his size.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he pushed his hood away from her cheek.

"Helping you," he answered and he took his gloves off to lay on the table, "because no offence but that's the saddest thing I've ever heard and I've lived with Percy for fourteen years. You're not spending Christmas in here."

"Are you sure," Isobel said nicely, "I don't want to be accused of cheating."

"Cheat? I wouldn't get you in trouble like that," said Fred as he moved her stuff around to accommodate him, "me and my brother are in the top per cent of our year at charms - you're in good hands."

This provided Isobel with some relief, even if she was quite surprised. "Good, because I need to actually learn this stuff if I'm going to pass my O.W.L's."

"O.W.L's?" Fred questioned dismissively as he moved the candle towards himself to warm his hands up, "aren't you like twelve?"

"McGonagall said it's never too young to prepare for them," Isobel insisted knowledgeably.

Fred did a double-take at her and didn't know quite what to say, so he didn't say anything and looked at her parchment instead. He read the sheet and when he flipped it over to look at the other side he saw a further two sheets underneath.

"This is all for the holidays?" he asked outrageously.

"No some of its revision and some is to get ahead for next term," Isobel said plainly, "I asked Flitwick for some third-year material as well but he says I'm not ready. It's ridiculous because other professors are giving me higher-level work and Lockheart even gave me stuff from the fourth-year curriculum - but that doesn't really count because it's all questions about him."

Isobel glanced up to see Fred just staring down at her like she was an abstract work of art that he couldn't figure out. "What's your name again?" he asked her.

"Isobel Monroe," she answered.

Fred's eyes closed in on her. "Yeah thought you might be," he said as he sat up straight, "Ron's mentioned you."

This put Isobel's back up. She didn't know Ron even knew her enough to mention her. "In what way?"

"Never mind," Fred said snappily as he got his wand out. "Now if I help you with this will you promise to take a break and come and sit with us for Christmas dinner?"

"I didn't ask for your help-"

"I said do you promise?"

The two stared at each other. Brown eyes met green in an attempt to override the other. "Shouldn't you be looking for your sister?" Isobel asked him shrewdly as she remembered how he had originally come in.

"Shouldn't you be spending Christmas like a normal human being?" Fred retaliated instantly.

Isobel went silent as she couldn't think of a response quick enough. So, even Fred who wasn't even in her year had assumed she wasn't normal after spending five minutes with her. It was obviously the impression she gave.

"That's what I thought," said Fred with a friendly smile and he picked up her wand and shoved it into her hand, "right, now show me how you usually do the engorgement charm."

Knowing Fred wasn't going to go away, she raised her arm and focused hard. She didn't want to look stupid in front of a fourth year, especially one who would laugh at her and tell the whole school.

"Engorgio!"

To her embarrassment, despite her hardest effort, the feather only grew one centimetre - if that. She was nervous to have done it to an audience and had floundered. Isobel turned to her left to look out the window instead of showing Fred she was upset, and in the reflection, she could see that he was pitying her - which made her feel even worse.

"You should go and get ready with your family," she said, "this is going to take ages."

"No it's not," said Fred kindly, "I think I know what's wrong, it's your wand movement."

He gently took her wrist in his hand and guided her wand out in front of her. This caused Isobel to huff but turn back to him to give him her full attention. If he really was top at charms then he must've known what he was talking about.

"You're too stiff in your movements, you need to get loose to make it more fluid," he said as he instructed her wrist to glide in a circle accurately but smoothly, "like that, now try."

Isobel was reluctant as she didn't think something as simple as that would fix the problem but she cleared her throat anyway and did what he had shown her, casting, "engorgio!" at her quill.

It was amazing. The quill swelled to at least twice its normal size.

"See! Easy as anything, we'll be done in no time," said Fred happily and he checked the parchment for the next question.

Isobel was frozen with her wand in the air like a statue. She had spent an hour trying that charm, a whole hour, and he had been able to teach her it in a second. God, he must've thought she was so dumb. She felt dumb.

She hated feeling dumb.

"So do you know the counterspell?" Fred asked.

"That's not on the list," Isobel said as her eyes darted to her homework, "I don't remember seeing it?"

Fred laughed and pointed to her now huge quill. "No, but are you telling me you're going to write the answers down with that thing?" he asked.

Isobel, albeit a little embarrassed, lifted her wand and cast the reducio spell no problem. They had learnt that months ago, so she had been given plenty of time to perfect it.

"You're a pro," says Fred impressively as the quill returned back to normal size.

Isobel sighed whilst glancing at him shyly. "You don't have to make me feel better, it's not that extraordinary."

"Hey I'm trying to be a good teacher here," Fred told her encouragingly as he playfully squeezed her shoulder, "you're lucky I'm trying to be more like Flitwick rather than Snape."

Isobel's lips curled up and the two shared a smile. She was starting to feel like she liked Fred, though she was realistic enough to know that he was only doing this because she was a muggle-born and he didn't want to leave her alone.

"Fred!...Fred!...Don't play games with me, I know you're hiding!"

The booming voice of Percy Weasley came running through the walls, his shadowy figure looming up the corridor outside.

"Fuck," said Fred.

"Isn't that your brother?" Isobel asked, ignoring the bad language.

"I'll tell McGonagall if you don't show yourself," Percy continued, "reverse what you did to my badge right now!"

"But you should be proud to be a pinhead Perce!" Fred shouted before sniggering silently to himself with his hand over his mouth.

Percy stopped in the window of the corridor, his ear twigging, and he stormed towards the entrance to the library.

"There you are you little git!" he mumbled.

"Shit," said Fred and he got underneath the table, moving Isobel's legs out of the way as he sat as close to the wall as he could.

"What are you doing?!" Isobel whispered down to him, "he's looking for you!"

"Exactly, that's why I'm hiding," Fred giggled and he enlarged Isobel's school bag so big that it covered him from view completely. He was now squashed in below her.

"Hey, that's my bag-"

"Fred!"

Percy's arrival made Isobel jump.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Percy apologised when he saw her sitting there alone, "uh, did you see where my brother went? He's a bit taller than me, red hair, causing annoyance and trouble everywhere he goes?"

Fred grinned proudly at this underneath the desk and put his finger up to his mouth to tell Isobel not to give him away.

"No uh-I didn't," said Isobel, "he just ran off."

Fred had helped her, so she thought it wouldn't hurt to tell a white lie.

"Are you lying?" Percy asked her pointedly, "Because if my brother has been able to bribe you then I'm afraid that means you're going down a very dark path."

"I'm not lying," Isobel retorted insistently, "can you see him anywhere?"

Percy looked around. "Well I suppose not," he said and he adjusted his glasses, "what're you doing in here anyway?"

"Homework," Isobel told him honestly, "I'm taking advantage of the library being empty."

Percy stepped forward to check the parchment was in fact homework and nodded approvingly. "Well that's very smart, I did the same in my first years, got me to where I am today," he explained, "five points to Ravenclaw."

Isobel beamed at him, she was so happy to receive extra house points. Fred pretended to be sick at their swottiness from below.

"I best be going," said Percy. As he was about to back out, unfortunately, he noticed her abnormally large rucksack. "What on earth is that under the table?"

Isobel looked down and Fred had gone stone-faced. "A bag," she replied, "my school bag."

Percy looked down at her suspiciously, crossing his arms. "But it's twice the size of you."

Isobel knew she was being caught out in a lie and started to feel warm, her jumper feeling like it was clinging to her chest. The sight was ridiculous, her having a bag that would undoubtedly make her topple over with every step. "I have a lot of books?" she said hopefully, wishing Percy would believe her.

Percy had a brain, and common sense, so he didn't believe her straight away and stepped forward to the table to cast "reducio" at the bag which caused it to shrink and reveal Fred sitting there all hunched up. Isobel knew she was about to get into trouble.

"Oh hey Perce," Fred said to his brother brightly as if this was normal, "nice badge."

Percy did not look amused. "Get up," he ordered and Isobel was happy that Fred obliged without any struggle. "I swear I'm writing to mum about this. I'm in the running for Head Boy next year and I'm not going to have you mess it up for me with these childish pranks! And to get this girl involved is so careless! Mum will be furious that you're not just satisfied with being a bad influence on your own younger siblings but have now moved on to other students as well!"

Isobel slumped down into her chair as she felt like she was intruding on a personal family matter. "I didn't get her involved!" Fred argued back, "I didn't tell her to lie, she did it herself!"

That was not entirely true, and it must've shown on Isobel's face as Percy looked at her and huffed in disappointment.

"Right," said Percy as he glared at Fred with the air only an older brother could have, "you go join George and Ron in the Great Hall and I will take off twenty points from Gryffindor as a punishment."

Fred didn't seem to care about this and his expression gave off the impression that he thought he had gotten off particularly lightly. "As for you," Percy continued as he rounded on Isobel's frozen body, "I hope you learn from this. You Ravenclaws are meant to be better behaved. The same points will be taken from your house too."

Isobel immediately felt like she wanted to cry with instant regret and her mouth fell open to plead with him. "But that'll drop us to second place behind Slytherin," she said, "we're winning!"

"Well, maybe you'll think about this next time you let him sway you into trouble," Percy told her wisely as he raised his eyebrows at Fred, "it's best you learn that acting immature won't get you very far in life and that there's a time and place for fun, otherwise that homework you're doing will be completely pointless."

With that, Percy stared them both down stroppily and walked out of the library, leaving it in a much gloomier atmosphere than when he had arrived. His words rang a strong warning in Isobel and she stared down at the table, disappointed in herself for letting herself and her house down.

"My god he's screwed up tighter than I thought," muttered Fred sadly as he watched Percy walk down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing. He then turned to see Isobel looking rather upset and questioned her. "What are you upset about? It's just house points."

"Just house points?" Isobel retaliated as she moved her eye line up to his face, "Ravenclaw was finally winning for the first time this year!"

"So?" Fred said cheerfully as he leaned against the bookcase, "you've got a whole other term to make it up. And even if you don't, points don't matter."

That was easy for him to say. Gryffindor had won last year. There was no point staying here with him now, she should just go back to her common room before she cost the house any more points.

"Oh yeah you're right, they don't," Isobel mumbled to herself sarcastically as she blew out the candle on her desk, "Harry flipping Potter might break a few more school rules and get awarded a thousand points for it, or even better, your brother might win another bloody game of chess and Dumbledore will see it fit to give him the house cup as a reward."

"Hey, calm down," Fred said warningly as Isobel got noticeably angry and started packing up her things, "that's my family you're talking about."

She couldn't help it. He didn't seem to realise why she was mad at him. She didn't mean to rant in front of him, she hardly knew him, but her young mind couldn't quite yet make the distinction of her being mad at herself and deflecting it onto an easier target. She was weighed down by embarrassment and failure.

"Yeah I know," Isobel said as she folded up her parchment and tucked it into her bag, "but it's still unfair. Slytherin did the best last year academically, we all did better than you - but you deserved the house cup because Harry purposely went looking for something that we were all specifically told we shouldn't go near. It's ridiculous."

"Merlins beard Ron is right, you need to chill the hell out girl, you'll give yourself a heart attack," Fred laughed, "it's just school."

Isobel slid her quill into her pocket and flung her bag over her shoulder. That last sentence proved that she was best to go. "You could've stuck up for me with Percy you know," she told him dead in the eye, "but you didn't. Thanks for the help but I'll see you around."

She walked out of that library without saying another word and stayed up in Ravenclaw Tower for the rest of the holidays. When everyone came back for the start of the term and saw their house in second place, it wasn't out there to say that Isobel was enemy number one for the Ravenclaws. She was no longer able to blend in and was pushed further into isolation by herself with Luna. From that day Percy Weasley's words were ones she chose to live by, and she never let any immaturity from the Weasley twins stop her from achieving her academic purpose ever again.

That didn't mean, however, that their lives at Hogwarts wouldn't cross paths in the years that were to come...as time would, unfortunately, prove.

Chapter Text

"...and finally, both Dora and I wanted to thank you all for coming tonight," said Lupin as he finished his toast from the head table, "if everyone could raise a glass."

Isobel, Luna, and the rest of the guests followed Lupin's request and raised their goblets high in the air. The night was just about to fall above them, and a light summer breeze passed through the circular tables effortlessly. The candles were still burning and provided much-needed light, and Isobel was glad she was sitting next to Moody, as he was able to amazingly turn all the flames to a different colour. She had grown to like the real him after he had gotten chatting with her on the topic of charms over their main course, which was her favourite subject.

"I don't think I could possibly continue with this day without mentioning those who couldn't be here with us," Lupin continued and he stopped for a moment as he appeared to be choked up. Tonks, who was sitting next to him at the top table, held his arm for support and rubbed it with her thumb comfortingly. "I never expected I would have done this without Sirius, James, and Lily. They were the best friends any man could have, and though it pains us all that they are no longer here to share their wit, intelligence and abundance of charm...I think I can speak for all of us when I say that they are with us right now. Probably telling me to stop being sappy and get on with the dancing and drinking."

The whole wedding party laughed, some with nostalgia, some with remembrance, and some just because they could tell it was the right thing to do.

"So anyway, I've never been that good with speeches. Let's toast to James, Sirius, Lily, and the Potter who couldn't be here tonight as a sacrifice for all of us...Harry. Here's to the mischief-makers of two whole generations."

"To mischief!" The crowd chanted in chorus and all downed their drinks in sync. It was followed by lots of clapping and cheers.

"Now let's get on with the celebrations!" said Tonks, stepping in as Remus was clearly getting emotional next to her.

As if on cue a band of instruments started playing upbeat swing tunes by themselves and the wedding guests got up off of their seats to enjoy the rest of the night. Isobel was reluctant to join in at first after her discussion of goblin law with Moody turned interesting, but Luna pulled her away to dance under the pretence that no boy with the surname of Weasley was on the dance floor.

An hour or so passed and Isobel found herself having drunk a lot of pumpkin spritz, so she excused herself from dancing with Tonks and went in search of a bathroom, walking down a darkly lit stairwell where she came across a pretty blonde girl in a full-length peach dress. The girl was leaning cross-armed against the wall of the bathroom and muttering to herself in what Isobel believed to be French.

"You'll be waiting for a while I'm afraid," the girl said heatedly when she saw Isobel coming, "can you believe there's only one toilet? I don't know why they'd book a hideous venue like this and then force their guests to share ONE TOILET!"

The girl banged a fist on the door as she shouted that last part, causing the occupier to growl back that she could always use the forest outside. This made both her and Isobel scrunch up their noses.

"Probably shouldn't have served the deep-fried skrewt," Isobel giggled in an attempt at conversation as she joined the girl, "I avoided it in case."

"That's what I was saying before, but they never listen to me," the girl snapped and she smoothed her sleek ponytail down alongside her collarbone, "Especially Madame Weasley."

There was an essence of resentment in the way that she said that and it made Isobel feel slightly more at ease, being able to talk freely.

"That's your first mistake," Isobel sighed conversationally as she stood against the wall opposite, "thinking a Weasley would listen."

The girl laughed and her perfect pearly smile took Isobel into a trance. "Fleur Delecour," she said as she held out her hand with an air of curiosity, " what's your name? You look familiar."

"Isobel Monroe," Isobel replied as she daintily shook Fleur's hand. Fleur's hand was tiny, and she didn't want to break it, especially after realising who she was. "I was at Hogwarts when you did the Triwizard Tournament. Supported you all the way."

She was the only girl in the competition, and naturally, Isobel wanted to celebrate that even when the rest of the school was either Team Diggory or Team Potter. The minute she had gotten home that summer she had pleaded with her parents to let her attend Beuxbatons Academy as she was so impressed with their skill and academics, but her parents turned her down because they didn't want her to go that far away.

"Ah yes I remember now, smart girl, I always liked the Ravenclaws," Fleur responded fondly with a smile, her ego massaged slightly, "well, Isobel, I'm glad there is someone around here who thinks like me."

She analysed Isobel's body and pouted approvingly "...and has fashion sense."

Isobel had to stop herself from blushing. She wasn't used to compliments, let alone from girls like Fleur when there was a chance she meant it.

"I was going to say the same about you!" Isobel said, trying not to sound too eager as she observed Fleurs dress, "Is that an Ophelia Moonstrum?"

The toilet flushed and as a little man with lots of gold chains around his neck walked out looking slightly worse for wear, Fleur raised an impressed eyebrow at Isobel and entered the toilet after him.

***

When Isobel was done in the bathroom she came out to see the unwelcomed image of Hermione Granger standing there waiting. She waited to see if Hermione would say hi to her, but expectantly she didn't, so she walked away without saying a word.

The sky was pitch black by now and most of the guests were drunkenly dancing or slumped in chairs by the bar, so Isobel had the tough task of worming her way through the dance floor to find Luna. Eventually, after having a rather odd conversation about her vintage hairpin with the small man who she had seen leave the bathroom (now known to her as Mundungas Fletcher), she spotted a flash of blonde by the drinks table and made her way towards it.

She had to dodge a few people, including Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt who were drunkenly singing together arm in arm, but finally, she saw Luna. She was talking to someone, to two people in fact, she was talking to...two ginger boys. The Weasley twins to be specific. Isobel slowly crept up on them, hoping Luna wouldn't spot her so that she could spy on what they were talking about.

"Well I'm glad it's going well, the shop looked busy when I passed it the other day," Luna told them as Fred topped up her goblet with a bottle of red liquid.

"Why didn't you come in if you were around?" George asked warmly, "we would have loved to have you visit."

"Yeah and we owe you for getting your dad to advertise us in the Quibbler last year," said Fred enthusiastically, "your next order from us in on the house."

"Well," Luna said with an essence of shyness, "I was with a friend and..."

"Oh fucking hell let me guess, Buzy-Izzy Monroe," George groaned and he rolled his eyes.

Isobel's ears pricked up at the mention of her name and she stepped closer towards their backs to hear better.

"Moanroe more like it," Fred laughed with a tone of dislike, "Couldn't you have ditched the old rain cloud of misery and come in, we could've protected you from her for at least five minutes."

It took every little bit of Isobel's strength not to curse Fred right there and then.

"She's my best friend-"

"Yeah, so what happened to her tonight?" George laughed as he overtalked Luna, "When I read her name on the guest list I was surprised. It's not her scene, that being a place where people have fun."

"Who's the girl you came with instead?" Fred asked as he nudged George in the arm, "didn't have much face-to-face contact with her if you know what I mean."

Isobel gagged automatically at this which flagged her attendance to Luna from behind George's shoulder. Luna looked at Fred and then at Isobel, trying not to giggle herself as she realised Isobel had heard what he'd said.

"Is she a step-sister? Cousin? Exchange student?" Fred persisted as he faked being concerned, "I just want to apologise to her personally for knocking into the back of her that's all. I'm very, very, sorry."

Isobel had heard enough, it was now time to enter the conversation.

"Oh, you are?" Isobel asked as she walked around them to join Luna, "Well that's great news Weasley because this old rain cloud of misery is all ears for your apology."

She had been brave enough to face them, but she had underestimated the emotion she would feel when she spoke to their faces again. It was such a shame, the Weasleys were handsome boys, but they had to ruin it by being the most irresponsible and egotistical twats.

"Fucking hell...Monroe?" said George as his eyes bulged out of his head, "I didn't even recognise you."

Fred didn't react as animated as his brother had. Instead, he looked her up and down again and shrugged, completely unfazed that she had just heard him talking shit about her. "Yeah you're actually showing some skin," he said sarcastically, "did the nunnery close down or is it because it's dark so the sun can't burn your flesh?"

Isobel glared at them both but remained calm, they weren't worth her breath and she would only be giving in to their teasing if she responded. She turned to Luna to block them out. "Hey did you want to go upstairs and stargaze?" she asked, "It's dark enough now."

Luna's eyes lit up at the idea. "Oh yes, sure-"

"Well hold on, we were about to go there with Ginny, Ron and Hermione to play some games away from the pensioners," said George, "want to come with?"

Isobel thought that she was seeing things because even though his brother was staring at him disapprovingly, George Weasley was smiling at her.

"No thanks," Isobel sneered as she held Luna's hand, "we'll pass."

She tried to pull Luna away but her friends' glittery feet stayed firmly glued to the floor. Isobel peddled back to be met with a conflicted expression.

"Oh come on Iz, we could play games and then stargaze," Luna suggested, clearly wanting to appease both sets of friends. Isobel tried to communicate with her telepathically that she would rather face her chances with a Hungarian Horntail than play games with the Weasley twins but Luna was having none of it.

"Oi Buzy-Izzy what's the problem?" George mocked humourlessly, "the stars aren't going anywhere."

Every time they spoke that nickname it enraged her, especially considering that they had been the ones who had helped it spread throughout Hogwarts like wildfire. She chewed her cheek to stop her from retaliating and she gave another silent plea to Luna in a desperate attempt.

"Oh you haven't changed at all," Fred muttered spitefully to himself as he took a slow sip of his drink. When the other three turned to his attention, he glanced over at George and pointed at Isobel with his glass. "There's no way she'll play, she's too scared of losing. She hasn't practised how to win 67 billion times."

The condescending tone finally made her snap.

"Aren't you a little too old to be playing games?" she quipped at Fred, her head tilting to the side to mock him further.

George and Luna were silent onlookers; George was surprised that Isobel had said anything at all and Luna was cautious about what was about to follow. Unfortunately, it didn't have the same effect on Fred, who smirked with the satisfaction of winning.

He had gotten her to bite.

"Not the ones we play Monroe," Fred taunted, and he took a sip of his drink without removing his eye line off of her, "Meet us up there in five, unless you want to prove me right."

He and George both left after pulling faces at each other and as they walked away Isobel could've cheered in the air with the happiness that they were gone. She went to grab Luna so that they could now go upstairs by themselves but instead found Luna pouting at her like a little lost puppy.

"Are you serious?" Isobel exclaimed, "After what they just said about me?!"

"At least they smiled at you," Luna replied.

***

Against all of Isobel's best attempts to convince Luna otherwise, the two girls ended up entering the upstairs room five minutes later where Fred, George, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were already waiting. They were in the east wing, in an old writing room off of the first floor that looked like it hadn't been dusted in centuries.

"Hi guys," Ginny welcomed them from the circle that had been made on the floor. She again looked happy to see both of them and as the only two seats available were between her and George, Isobel made a beeline to sit down next to her.

"Love the dress," Ginny whispered as she sat down, and Isobel smiled out of surprise.

"So nice of you to join us," said Ron sarcastically as he leaned forward on his crossed legs, "come on George, tell us what we're playing before I literally fall asleep. I'm stuffed."

George, as Isobel knew, loved playing ringmaster. He loved it because he never usually got the chance when Fred was around - him being the less loud of the two.

"We'll start easy with the game Hermione taught us a couple of years ago," George announced, "truth or dare. However, circle rules apply. Fred if you please."

Fred had a horrible look of trouble on his face as he drew out his wand and cast an incantation that made a dark blue circle appear around them. It made a fuzzy noise that made Isobel instantly more uncomfortable, though she wouldn't dare say so in front of him.

"If you leave the circle you get cursed with whatever punishment Fred has just chosen at random," George continued with glee, "but that doesn't mean you can't avoid anything you really don't want to do."

George got out his own wand from inside his suit pocket and circled it in the middle of the group. A few seconds later, a brass tray appeared on the floor with enough shot glasses for one each and a large bottle of black liquid. Isobel looked at Luna, whose eyes were fascinated by the drink.

"If you want to skip a turn and avoid a go then you take a shot - but I must warn you, it's strong stuff," George explained, "and you also only have three of these get-outs. Once you've run out you have to complete every turn handed to you whilst the game is still in play."

"But, I don't drink," Isobel stated bluntly. She only touched the stuff occasionally at family parties when she felt safe too, and this was not a situation in which she felt safe.

"Of course you don't," Fred mumbled under his breath as he rolled his head towards her from across the circle, "if you don't want to participate then leave, don't drag us down with you by stopping the fun."

"I just don't trust you and what you've put in there," Isobel sneered back snootily, "it could be anything."

"Well you don't have to trust us to play," George taunted as Fred and Isobel had a staring competition of their own, "but you do have to spill your truths because it's that or a curse."

Realising she had voluntarily gotten herself trapped in a circle that made her choose between some of the people she hated most and an unknown horrific curse, Isobel closed her lips and decided to play. All she had to do was keep picking dares, and hopefully, she could leave with both her secrets and her dignity in her control.

George placed his wand in front of him and spun it clockwise, marking it that Ginny would be the one to pick his fate. He picked truth, and so the game began, everyone taking their turn one by one in the circle. Every time it came around to Isobel, she took a shot, thinking that it was in her best interests to just do it as three shots wouldn't get her that drunk. George was right though, it was strong stuff, and it burnt her throat as she swallowed each horrible mouthful. Fred looked delighted at her pain, staring at her every time she had to down it in one. She always returned the favour when it was his go, as he consistently picked dare also, leading her to believe that he had something to hide as well.

Unfortunately, after Ginny took her first shot to cope with seeing Ron and Hermione kiss (George's dare for Ron) Isobel looked down to see that she had no more get-out-of-jail cards left. She suddenly came over all lightheaded, making her feel sick and just wanting some fresh air, and as her vine-ended wand spun around - her heart sank.

"Welcome to the game," Fred said snarkily as Isobel's wand landed on him to her dismay, "Pick your poison Moanroe."

Isobel weighed up her options. With him asking, it was dangerous either way. But, perhaps, him knowing the truth about her could cause more lasting damage than her making a fool of herself for fifteen seconds.

"Dare," she answered him, trying her best to sound confident about it.

The whole circle was surprised at her choice, but no one was probably more surprised than Fred. He raised his eyebrows and a mischievous grin grew upon his face, probably considering all the bad things he could get her to do. The others, except Luna, had mouths bigger than howlers. Everyone had expected her to pick truth. It proved that they didn't know her at all, as there was no way in hell she was ever going to let anyone in that room know a single thing about her. Secrets were public property with this lot.

Fred continued to stare at her, pondering, but when his tongue rested on the side of his smile she knew he had made his decision. She had seen that look before.

"I dare you to..." he said, glancing over to Isobel's right, "kiss Luna...for ten seconds minimum."

Ron and George tried to squash their sniggers from either side of him. Hermione looked absolutely horrified. Isobel was expecting something like this, so she wasn't surprised, but she was disgusted at his perverted reasons behind it. It was clear from his eyes what satisfaction he wanted out of this dare, and she wasn't going to give it to him.

"Absolutely not," she immediately refuted.

"Oh come on, I kissed my friend," Hermione said airily, "it's just for fun."

"Yeah and that was such a sacrifice for you wasn't it," Isobel snapped back sarcastically.

Hermione must have forgotten that Isobel had seen her crying on the staircase just minutes after Ron and Lavender Brown had gone official last year.

"There's nothing wrong with it Izzy," Luna spoke out reassuringly as Hermione was taken aback, "Cho and Marietta used to do it all the time and they were friends."

"Really?" Ron asked Luna eagerly. Fred and George nodded back at him with smirks as if they had seen proof of it themselves.

"No there's nothing wrong with it," Isobel told Luna, knowing she was trying to keep the peace, "but his motivations for it are. I know what he's thinking, it's sick."

"Well, it's that or a truth," Fred goaded cockily as he leaned back on his hands, "if you're not going to use your lips for that then put them to use elsewhere."

Isobel made the mistake of glancing at Luna out of the corner of her eye. She could tell she was embarrassed by her actions and it made her feel guilty, causing her to swallow her pride and give up the fight.

"Fine," she huffed as she brushed her hand through her hair tiredly, "give me a truth."

Fred didn't need thinking time for this one. He simply tilted his head and let the words slip right out of his mouth.

"What's your number?" he asked curiously.

"Of what?"

"Guys."

"...or girls," George added quickly, who seemed equally as invested as his brother, "we don't discriminate."

"That's ridiculous, I'm not answering that," Isobel retorted, "that's private."

"Oh come on Isobel-"

"Shut up Hermione...it's none of your business."

"This is a safe space," smiled George, "nothing shared is leaving this room."

"Yeah right, like I'd believe you when you say that."

"Then why are you even here?" Ron asked pointedly, "If you're just going to be a party pooper then get out."

"It wasn't my idea," Isobel told him, "believe me."

"I wouldn't waste the effort to convince her," said Fred as he shrugged from his casual laid-back position, "she's not going to say anything."

"Thank you," she said, still giving Ron daggers.

"Little Miss Perfect wouldn't dare announce the fact that she's a virgin."

Isobel immediately looked at Fred and couldn't believe that his stupid face was smirking.

"Excuse me?" Isobel scoffed, giving him a chance to redeem himself by correcting his words.

"It's obvious," said Fred, his tone not hiding the slight essence of mockery, "nothing to be ashamed of. Just admit it so we can move on."

"I'm not admitting anything," Isobel insisted. She wanted to know what made him think it was so obvious.

"Fine then take the dare," said George, "but we'll all know your answer on the very basis you refused to answer the question."

Ginny had stayed quite quiet during this whole exchange, but her flickering watchful eyes gave away that she wasn't as okay with her brother's behaviours as Ron appeared to be. The only thing stopping her from jumping in and defending Isobel was the fact that she was holding her own.

"I'm not admitting I'm a virgin because it's not true," Isobel said heatedly.

Fred sat up, his body leaning towards Isobel challengingly as his eyebrows narrowed down upon her, "then answer the damn question Monroe, and we want all the little horny details - names and all."

That's it. She'd had enough. She knew they'd only want to embarrass her if she played, the others didn't get these types of questions at all. She owed them nothing and worst of all...she couldn't let them know that they were right.

"Hey, hey, hey," George called to her as she got up to her feet, "If you break the circle you'll get cursed remember."

Isobel stopped moving and turned around to see Fred still smirking, enjoying the reaction that he'd caused. Frustratingly, George was correct, and that meant she had a choice to make. To get cursed or answer the question. Knowing Fred he would've picked a really hideous curse as a joke, so she wasn't going to risk that in a million years, but she did have to consider whether that would be worse than telling a lie. If she said 1 would they still think of her as a prude? Was that too low? And what number was too high to be believable - 3?...8?...No matter what number she was thinking she could think of ways that they could twist it to be bad.

And so, it came down to her very last option. She had wanted to discard it but given how things had escalated it really didn't appear that bad of a task. With one last vengeful glare at Fred, Isobel bent down to her knees and grabbed Luna by the face, guiding her by her cheeks so that she could plant a kiss on her lips. It had been the first time she had kissed a girl, but she was pleasantly surprised - Luna was much less forceful than a guy, had softer lips too, and also tasted like sweet pink candyfloss.

The rest of the circle was stunned. Fred and George's smirks fell straight off of their faces, Ron's eyes couldn't help but watch every second (to Hermione's disapproval), and Ginny didn't quite know at which girl she should look.

Well if anything...Isobel thought to herself as she counted to ten...now she knew how to shut them up.

"Oh where are they!" said a frantic voice from outside and a moment later the figure of Arthur Weasley bounded through the door.

"What are you all doing in here?!" Arthur questioned as he surveyed the room and saw his sons ogling the now separated Isobel and Luna, "Never mind we don't have time, come on get out, we all need to leave!"

"Leave?" Ron asked as he adjusted his trousers nervously, "now?!"

"But the game was just getting good!" George complained.

"It's the Ministry," Arthur explained, panicked voices now being heard from below with the door being open, "they're on their way. I don't know how they've found out about Tonks and Remus but they have. We'll all be in trouble if they catch us and especially you two Hermione and Isobel. Come on, hurry."

Fred waved away the blue circle and they all hurried out of the room to join the chaos that was in the main wedding area. The few witches and wizards that were left were grabbing their families and evaporating at a quick pace. Remus and Tonks had already gone, so it was really only the Weasleys, Xeno, and Moody left.

"Girls!" Xeno called and he waved his hands as he ran up to Luna and Isobel, "Where have you been? It's been an hour!"

"Good question," George muttered as he passed Isobel whilst shielding Ginny under his arm.

"Stargazing," Isobel quickly lied before Luna could answer truthfully. She then got shoved over on her right-hand side and she looked up to see Fred walking in front of her, pouting his lips to make a kissy face as he looked over his shoulder.

She wanted to punch that look right off him.

"Oh, that's nice," said Xeno and he grabbed both of the girl's hands, "let's go home shall we."

They evaporated and within seconds they were back at the Lovegoods home. It was dark as the Lovegoods lived in the middle of nowhere, and the naturistic scenery meant that there were all kinds of bugs flying around them in the summer night air. Before walking in through the door, Xeno and Luna positively announced to each other that tonight had in fact been a good night. However, after recovering from the dizzy spell she always had after apparating, Isobel only had one thing on her mind.

She hoped to never see any of those people ever, ever, again.

Chapter Text

"Hey look, there's another one here!"

Isobel came running alongside the lake behind the Lovegood house to answer Luna's call. As she bent down to join her, Luna lifted a small duckling from the water by her palm. The duckling's beak had been tied shut with blades of grass. It wasn't a pleasant sight, it had been struggling to break free and had managed to topple itself over in the process.

"Terrible isn't it," Luna sighed as she stroked the little creature's feathers.

"Horrible," Isobel muttered in sorrow as she got out her wand, "urevlio."

The spell worked its magic and the grass binds broke from the duckling's mouth, causing it to quack graciously and flap its feathers in Luna's hands. Luna lowered it down into the water with a smile, getting the sleeves of her pink knitted cardigan wet, and the duckling swam happily up the stream to join its mother and siblings Isobel had freed just moments before.

"The gnomes are getting worse with their tricks," Isobel tutted as she slid her wand back into the pocket of her flowery smock dress, "are you sure your dad won't let us do anything about it? I promise I'll do it as painlessly as I can."

Luna traced her hand along the river, playing with the flow of the water. "No, he doesn't believe in degnoming," she said, "he believes that you can reason with any creature using logic and shouldn't have to resort to violence."

Isobel understood that Xeno was very much a pacifist - especially when it came to creatures. What she couldn't understand however was why he was against a simple degnoming process, which was proven to not cause lasting damage, when the gnomes were harming other creatures in the garden in the meantime.

"But last week they were throwing rocks at the windows and broke one, on Monday they pulled up all of your dads Knotgrass, and now they're messing with animals, it's clear they're not listening to what he's saying," Isobel told her, "If you could perhaps let me do it and not tell him-"

"You know I can't lie," said Luna, her eyes narrowing in surprise, "I won't lie to my dad, do not ask me."

Isobel sighed and sat down on the ground as she looked over towards the hills. Through the long grass, she could see little grey creatures bounce up in the air, cackling at whatever devious deed they were planning to do next. There were loads of them.

"How come there's so many gnomes this year anyway?" Isobel asked Luna, "There's not usually this many are there?"

"That will be because Mrs Weasley is getting extra vigilant on them," Luna told her, "so the gnomes come over here as it's the next house."

"You live next door to the Weasleys?!" Isobel exclaimed as she scowled at her, "since when?"

She could not believe she hadn't learnt this information before now. All those summers and Christmases spent here and not once did Luna mention being anywhere near that family.

"Since always," said Luna innocently, her fingers delicately playing in the stream, "plus we're not next door really, there are miles between our houses."

Isobel had only just forgotten about her unfortunate encounter with the Weasley's at the wedding and had been enjoying the start of her summer just fine. Now this had put a dampener on things indeed. She would now need to be on high alert anytime she saw someone with ginger hair walk by in a ten-mile radius. 

"Shouldn't you be getting ready anyway, for your appointment?" Luna reminded her.

"Hardly an appointment," Isobel shrugged, "I don't even know why I've been invited."

A couple of days ago, when the three of them were having dinner on a particularly hot day, a caramel coloured barn-owl had flown in through the kitchen window and delivered a letter right on top of Isobel's potatoes. It was neatly written, all in italics, and the envelope was sealed with a large 'D' pressed into it with light blue wax. This was surprising considering no one knew she was staying here except for her parents, and they certainly wouldn't have chosen owls as their preferred method of communication.

When Isobel opened it, it read:

"Hello Isobel, I trust you are well.

I hope you don't mind me writing to you as we only spoke briefly at the wedding, but I was asking around about you and my Bill found out where you were staying from his father. I don't know if I mentioned it to you when we met, but I'm getting married in a week and I still have yet to pick my dress for it - I know, it's ridiculous - but the reason is that I have had no one to go with who understands my taste. My mother and sister are stuck in France and cannot get over here, and everyone else I know is useless.

It is for this reason that I would like to invite you to my fitting on Thursday at the Ophelia Moonstrum store in London. I know you like her designs so I'm counting on that intriguing you. Mrs Weasley, Bill's mother, will sadly also be there at Bill's request - but if you try hard enough you can ignore her (at least that's what I do).

The bracelet attached will turn into a port key on the day at 11 am if you do decide to come. I hope you do, for I will be forever thankful.

Yours sincerely,

Fleur Delecour"

Isobel still couldn't quite comprehend that it was real even after they had gone to bed. She had been invited to go dress shopping for the Fleur Delecour, the witch who had inspired her to excel in all studies so she could be as good as her. She didn't know how it had happened.

"But I've only had one conversation with her," said Isobel as she and Luna started walking back to the house, "how do I even know what to say."

"Just be yourself," said Luna, "that always gets people to like you."

Isobel scoffed at that notion. "No, it doesn't, because if that was the case a lot more people would like me. Did we forget the way the Weasleys acted the other night?"

"Yeah, but you weren't exactly nice either Iz."

Isobel bit her lip to stop her from replying a little too argumentatively. This was the battle she'd had with Luna ever since her fifth year. "They called me Busy-Izzy Monroe and compared to me to a vampire," she said as she looked down at her bare feet tracing the dry grass below, "they deserved it. Besides, they accused me of being a virgin."

"You are one though," Luna sighed plainly. It was frustrating that she never thought anyone could have ill intent, even when it was smacking her in the face. Her blissful ignorance was why she got bullied so hard in her earlier years.

"It's none of their business," said Isobel, squeezing Luna's arm in a friendly manner whilst her hands gripped together in fists tightly, "God help Fred Weasley if I ever run into him again. He's getting a piece of my fucking mind."

***

"Oh see this is too much," said Mrs Weasley as she walked around Fleur in a circle, picking up parts of the dress and fluffing it out, "the last one was much more simple and elegant."

Isobel sat on the parlour couch in front of them and tried to hold in a laugh, watching Fleur's face screw up at Mrs Weasley's words. It had been like this all afternoon. Every time Fleur found a dress she liked, Mrs Weasley didn't like it, and every time Mrs Weasley picked one out for her - Fleur turned her nose up at it like she would rather wear rags. They just had two different tastes and two very different price points.

"But this is the new collection, having large netting and trains is in," Fleur tried to argue calmly, "and the detailing on the lace is so french. I think my mother would like me to have this. It reminds me of her dress when she got married."

"That's lovely dear," said Mrs Weasley as she adjusted Fleur's lace sleeves, "but I don't want you to spend all this money if it will just end up getting ruined. We're having it in our back garden after all and I'm worried the train will get caught in something. The previous dress was much shorter and ran straight down your body, no room for any errors."

"Molly I am marrying a curse breaker who just got bitten by a werewolf," Fleur snapped, her beautiful face turning sharp, "I have also battled dragons, grindilows and bewitched quidditch players. I think I am okay with taking a risk."

Fleur called over to the sales assistant to talk about the corset detailing on the upper back and left Mrs Weasley bewildered and tired next to the mirror. As a watcher on, Isobel felt sorry for her. Though yes, she had been a bit imposing, she could tell her heart was in the right place.

"I'm going to have to go around wiping mud off that dress all day aren't I," sighed Molly as she came down to sit next to Isobel on the sofa, "my first son's wedding and I'm still going to be the cleaner."

"You can always use replevio," Isobel whispered to her kindly as she traced the outline of the spell in the air with her finger, "will wash straight off the dress. You only have to do it once and it lasts up to twelve hours."

Mrs Weasley stared at her like she had just had golden light shine down upon her head. "How do you know that?" she asked, "Are you sure it works?"

Isobel nodded and leaned in closer to her to whisper. "I had to find a spell that did it in my fourth year because someone spilt this horrible potion on my Yule Ball dress," she explained casually, "it's foolproof."

"Oh dear heavens that's awful," Mrs Weasley replied, unaware that her sons were the perpetrators who had caused Isobel to learn the spell in the first place, "well thank you, I'll test that when I get home. What are you wearing to the wedding?"

"Oh no," Isobel said as she shook her head, "I'm not invited. I'm just here to help Fleur pick a dress."

Mrs Weasley's expression fell into a frown. "What do you mean you're not invited? I wrote an extra invitation for you last week," she said. She then turned to Fleur and called across the room. "Who did you give Isobels Invitation to Fleur? She didn't get it."

"I gave it to one of the twins," Fleur replied dismissively as the sales assistant showed her a selection of beautifully clean white veils, "I told them to hand to deliver it as my owl was busy delivering my aunts in Paris."

At this moment it was quite obvious to Isobel what had happened. Whichever son she had given it to, whether it be Fred or George, had taken one look at whose name was on the invitation and had immediately tossed it in the bin or set it aflame. After her performance in truth or dare, they were hardly going to make an extra effort to ensure her presence was required.

"It probably just got lost," Isobel suggested to Mrs Weasley to make her feel better, "Xeno gets a lot of rubbish sent to him these days about the Ministry so he just chucks it out in buckets. Probably didn't see it."

Mrs Weasley must've also assumed that something was up too, as she pursed her lips before forcing a smile and patting Isobel on the lap. "Of course," she said, "well, you're invited nonetheless. It's going to be much bigger than the last one, more people to meet and all that. My son Charlie is flying in from Romania especially, I think you'll like him - quite a charmer. He works with dragons out there, but you probably already knew that of course."

"No, I didn't," Isobel responded. Out of everything she had been burdened to listen to about that family over the years, she was never lucky enough to hear this. It was actually something interesting.

"Ron never mentioned his brother works with Dragons?" Mrs Weasley asked boastfully, "Gosh, it's usually the first thing he tells people!"

"Well you see he never really spoke-"

"Oh, there you are Molly!"

Mr Weasley suddenly came bursting through the shop door, out of breath and wheezing for air. It seemed like he had just finished running a marathon, but his work attire of a cotton suit provided evidence that this wasn't the case. His forceful entrance caused everyone in the room to jump and look at him.

"Hi everyone," Mr Weasley smiled as he realised the scene he had just made. He then looked at his wife and his eyes slid to who was next to her, his smile flinching slightly, "Hi uh-Isobel, good to see you again."

"You too," Isobel greeted him.

Mr Weasley scratched the back of his ear fidgetingly whilst trying to maintain his cheery disposition. "Molly can I-uh, speak to you outside for a moment."

Mrs Weasley nodded and he took her outside to have what looked like a very serious conversation. Isobel didn't know if they realised or not but the windows were clear and full length, meaning Fleur and herself could see everything.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Isobel asked Fleur.

"I don't know," Fleur replied, "probably brainstorming a last-ditch attempt to stop me marrying their son."

Isobel smiled, but that didn't stop her from watching on. At one point, Arthur looked in her direction and pointed, causing Molly to immediately gasp and shake her head. She noted that they were obviously talking about her or Fleur, but the reasons for why were unclear.

"Quick, Miralda," Fleur called to the sales assistant as she ran to the dressing rooms, "take this dress as soon as I get it off and ring it up for purchase. I can't take this another minute and that woman is not going to stop me from buying my dream dress!"

A minute later Fleur tossed the dress over the door and the sales assistant did exactly what she had been told to do. Mrs Weasley entered the shop again, Arthur not following her in and instead walking away.

"Honestly, men are useless," Molly chuckled, "coming all this way to ask me how to do the washing!"

Isobel knew that it had not been a conversation about washing. Mr Weasley was visibly stressed about something,  but she didn't want to be nosy and press Mrs Weasley for answers. After all, it was none of her business. For the time being she nodded and pretended to Mrs Weasley that she had accepted her first explanation as fact, but that didn't stop her noticing that for a very skilled wizard capable of other methods of transportation...Mr Weasley had chosen to walk all this way from the Ministry instead of apparate. 

He clearly didn't want to be tracked.

***

"No seriously? They just got up and left?" Isobel laughed as she lit the burning candles on the Lovegood's dinner table.

"As I've told you before Isobel, Gnomes are just like us," Xeno explained across from her in his pale green dressing gown, "you can sit down and have a very reasonable discussion with them. No need for fighting or violence at all."

Isobel pretended to be impressed in being proved wrong, however, she knew deep down that it would only be a few days before the gnomes returned to cause more havoc.

"And what about your day?" Luna asked Isobel as she swallowed her last bite of bread, "did Fleur get her dress?"

"Yeah she did," Isobel answered and she giggled whilst remembering, "it was quite funny actually, Arthur turned up to talk to Molly and Fleur ran off so she could-"

Tap, tap.

A rather heavy and urgent knock on the front door interrupted Isobel's story and all three of them looked at each other confused. Everyone that ever came here was right in this room, and it was rather late into the night.

"Well, who could that be at this unusual hour?" Xeno asked as he excused himself from the table and drew out his wand cautiously, heading for the door.

Isobel decided not to continue telling Luna about what had happened because she knew she wouldn't be paying attention, and rightly so. It wasn't uncommon these days to be fearful of who could be on the other side of a knock at the door, especially for the Lovegoods who were the writers of the controversial Quibbler. Luna had her eyes firmly on her dad, Isobel drawing out her wand from her purple pyjama bottoms just in case.

"What a surprise!" exclaimed Xeno as he opened the door to find Mr Weasley and Alistair Moody standing there, "you never come to visit!"

Both Luna and Isobel let out sighs of relief as Xeno opened the door wide enough for them to see.

"Sorry to bother you whilst you're having dinner," Arthur apologised in his overcoat, "just I had to come without Molly knowing and this way I can still say I was late from work."

"Ah well, i don't support keeping secrets," Xeno replied conversationally, "but can I ask why it is necessary this time?"

He then stepped back and gestured for Arthur and Alistair to come in, the two men accepting and standing just inside the kitchen. Neither of them looked like they wanted to make this a long visit.

"Do you remember when I asked you if you could start growing knotgrass for me?" Arthur asked Xeno, subtly lowering his voice as if this was some sort of crime.

"Yes, and it's nearly ripe," Xeno answered as he pointed out of the kitchen window, "I had to start from scratch because of the Gnomes, but the new ones have been growing and Luna's been feeding it every day."

"Well, do you remember why I needed it for this particular weekend?" Arthur prodded seriously, side-eying the girls as he said so. Both Luna and Isobel picked up on the cues that this conversation was not meant to involve them, but that didn't stop them from staring at him straight-faced with no real urge to leave.

Xeno slowly eyeballed his daughter and Isobel, turning his back away from the dining table and mumbling to the two men, "aye, do we need to go elsewhere?"

"No need," grumbled Moody loudly enough for the girls to hear, "it concerns them too."

Isobel sat up straight in her chair, her interest piqued. Luna swivelled in her chair so that she no longer was looking on sideways. They had never been allowed in on Xeno's adult discussions before.

"What do you mean concerns them?" Xeno asked cluelessly.

"We have a dropout," Moody answered and he pulled his cane towards him to grasp, "I was meant to rope in Mundungus but he's completely vanished after a close call with the Ministry. We need a replacement who we can trust."

"But Luna can't go, she's not of age," Xeno argued as his fingers fidgeted together anxiously, "I'll do it if the girls can stay under Molly's protection during it all."

"What's this about dad?" Luna asked as she sensed her father's nerves.

"Not now petal," Xeno dismissed her.

"With all due respect Xenophillius we would be looking for someone a bit more gifted in charms," Moody stated gruffly, which Xeno appeared quite offended by, "and whilst we have the top student at Hogwarts onboard we thought it would be more beneficial if we had the second-best as well."

His fake eye zoomed in on her first, the real one following just a close second behind. Then Arthur hesitantly glanced over, leaving Xeno and Luna to join in last. All eyes were now on Isobel, who quite frankly had no idea what was going on except the fact that she had now been labelled runner-up to Hermione Granger twice in two weeks.

"Who, little Isobel?" asked Xeno, "no, no, she can't. She's under my guardianship for the summer and I won't let any harm come to her."

"Harm?" Isobel questioned, her right eyebrow-raising in horror as Xeno furiously shook his head. She was now desperate to know what they were talking about.

"It's not like I'm eager for all of my children to be put in this situation either," Arthur argued back sternly, "but we have to do it, it's the only way."

"And she'll be partnered with me after all," added Moody, as this would provide any comfort, "I think she's more than capable from what I hear from Remus."

Partner?...Harm?...it's like they were talking about going into battle or something. Isobel was against fighting, hence why she had never joined Dumbledore's Army when Luna had done, and whatever this was it sounded much more dangerous than that. She was ready to downright refuse, but she bit her tongue, knowing that Xeno wouldn't allow her to do it under any circumstances anyway. She knew he was as hard-headed as anything.

"Fine," Xeno huffed after seconds of fighting with himself, "she can do it. But you need her permission first."

Isobel couldn't believe he had said that. Luna equally couldn't believe he had said that.

"Uh, yeah they do," Isobel scoffed loudly at the three men, "are you going to tell us what the hell is going on?"

"Your life's about to change Monroe," Moody grunted at her ominously, "be thankful for it - because if all this works out then that high-level ministry job you want so desperately will fall into your lap faster than water falls from the sky. Come on Arthur."

Moody pushed the front door open to reveal a newly drizzling sky and stepped out into it, apparently having said the last thing he wanted to say on this matter. Arthur blushed out of mild embarrassment at Moody's actions but still followed after him in a hurry, attempting to leave without receiving any fightback from Isobel. "It's really better if you explain," Arthur told Xeno as he walked up the front garden path, "make sure she's standing out here at this time in two days for us to take her."

Xeno closed the door to stop any water from getting in and for a minute there was no sound but the rhythm of dancing raindrops to break the silence. He slumped into the door handle, thinking about the whirlwind that had just been the last five minutes. Luna stared between him and Isobel as she rippled her fingernails on the table, watching her best friend become as physically closed off as she had ever seen her.

"That doesn't sound like they're giving me a chance to choose," Isobel said to Xeno as she sat cross-armed and cross-ankled on her chair, a stern expression on her face, "but I'm not agreeing to anything I am not fully informed about. I don't care if you gave permission, if it involves the Weasley's I refuse."

"Listen, there's something I've got to tell you," said Xeno exhaustedly as he stumbled back over to the dining room table and sat down on his chair. He looked at Isobel with parental eyes, his finger pointing at her tellingly. "And when I do, you have to keep in mind that sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do for the greater good..."

Chapter Text

"Tell them I'm sick."

"Isobel I can't, a boy's life is at stake here."

"Then tell them I'm dead, a few of them might actually be happy about it."

Xeno was holding Isobel's shoulders as they stood outside in the front garden, the crescent moon above them acting as an indicator that Isobel was quickly running out of time. She had spent the last two days doing and saying everything she could to convince Xeno that she wasn't going to risk her life in order to help Harry Potter but every time he was able to win her over after explaining what the benefits were. They needed her help to save the 'chosen one', and she needed their help to get a job. It was no secret that she wasn't going to get one any other way because of her blood status.

"Here it is Dad," said Luna as she hurried out carrying what appeared to be some sort of small mouse out from her lilac jacket, "I found it in my jewellery box."

"Right on time as always," Xeno smiled and he took a hand off of Isobel's shoulder to take the object from Luna. Isobel considered running away whilst his attention was distracted. "Okay Isobel, this is for you to clip to your jean pocket."

Isobel turned around to see that the object Luna had fetched was actually a Rabbit's foot, fashioned onto a keyring with a clip shaped like a Hare's head. She had known about the luck an object of sorts could bring in the muggle world, but like every myth, she had never seen any real proof that they worked.

"Thank you," Isobel said as she took it from Xeno's hand, opening the clasp and attaching it to the front loop of her jeans. She didn't believe it would make any difference, but they did, so that's why she accepted it.

"Now we'll be waiting at The Burrow with Molly and Ginny for you," Xeno told her, "and if you and Moody aren't back by the time you're meant to be then I'll come straight out and search for you myself."

"But that won't be necessary," said Arthur as he apparated at the garden gate, "everything will be fine. All ready to go?"

As positive as Arthur was sounding, Isobel let her anxiety show on her face as she faced Xeno and Luna, her lip quivering in worry. It hit her now that this was actually happening. She was actually going to purposely risk her own safety for a boy who had barely given her the time of day, alongside those who had made it their right to point out that they didn't care for her wellness or safety. It was a doomed mission if she ever saw one, and only time would tell if it was a dumb decision.

"Oh come here," said Xeno as he hugged her like the dad who couldn't be there instead, "it will all be alright. You're under the protection of the best wizards in Britain, and that includes yourself little one."

Isobel embraced him tightly and then let go, looking straight to Luna who couldn't help but show the brightest spark of optimism.

"You show them what you can do," Luna said as she walked forward and flicked Isobel's curls behind her shoulder. She then held her hands and pulled them upwards so their knuckles all touched, staring meaningfully into her nervous friend's eyes to provide the comfort only she could give her. "Make them take you seriously and when you're done I'll be right here waiting for you. Ginny and I are making biscuits so I'll make sure chocolate chip is in the batch, all piping hot for when you step through the door okay?"

Isobel nodded and hugged Luna tight, thanking her best friend for always saying the right thing. Luna hugged her back and swayed her side to the side, and this made Isobel laugh - feeling a slight pinch in her side which she chose to ignore.

"Right then, off I go," said Isobel as she broke their embrace. She had to be the strong one and didn't want to keep Mr Weasley waiting, but she was slightly frightened that she was about to walk to her death. "I'll see you in an hour or so."

Before she could change her mind she gave one last glance at Luna and Xeno's supportive faces and turned away, walking towards Mr Weasley and greeting him at the front of the garden. He waved goodbye to the Lovegoods and outstretched his arm to Isobel, offering it up for her to hold.

"You're doing a very brave thing," Arthur whispered to her.

Isobel acknowledged him politely and placed her hand on his lower arm. She had mastered her apparition test the first time, but as she didn't know where she was going, she had to let him lead her.

"Well I've always believed there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity," she muttered to herself.

Next thing she knew she was whisked off of her feet, whirling around to travel to the quest she had chosen to undertake.

***

They arrived in front of an ordinary house on an ordinary street that Isobel could've pictured being in any small town in England. All the houses were equally spaced and were all built with the same boring sand-coloured bricks. The whole street didn't look that much different from her own. Isobel had heard that Harry Potter always complained about living with his Aunt and Uncle here but she couldn't at this moment point out why. It seemed perfectly nice.

"Right come on, I think everyone's already gone in," said Arthur as he gestured her forwards, walking quickly towards the front door.

Isobel followed him, seeing glimpses of Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt looking out of the downstairs window with their wands pointed. She wanted to wave to them but their stern faces told her not to do so. As she stepped into the hallway of the house she was met by obnoxious rose wallpaper, but that was really all she was met with as the entire house had been abandoned. There was no furniture left. 

"No I'm not letting you all risk your lives for me, they'll spot me from a mile off and kill anyone in their way!" she heard the voice of Harry Potter shout from the first room on the left.

Isobel held her breath as she followed Arthur into it, hiding behind his back. Over Arthur's shoulder she could see Hagrid the gamekeeper towering up to the ceiling. It was weird seeing him out of school grounds.

"Room for two more?" Arthur announced as they walked into what Isobel now guessed was the living room. Everyone greeted him warmly, but when he stepped aside to reveal Isobel it was a whole different story. Heads turned and mouths from the youngest in the room parted in protest.

"Her?" asked Harry, "What is she doing here?"

Isobel decided to play it cool, taking it in her stride that everyone was shocked to see her there. "Oh you know," she mocked as she gave the room a once over, "just thought I'd stop by and see this cupboard you're always talking about. I like it, very spacious."

In the corner she was happy to see Fleur, who gave her a welcoming smile. The woman next to her also shared the same expression, the same woman who she had just seen marry her old Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher.

"Dad what the fuck," Ron spoke, "I can't believe you bought moanroe!"

"Mundungus dropped out so we had to find a replacement," Arthur answered calmly, "we need an even number."

"And that's not a way to speak to girls Ron," said the man leant against the back wall next to Fleur. He had long flowing red hair, wore big leather boots, and was covered in exotic jewellery.  There was no other way to put it, he was a marvel to look at.

"Bill Weasley," said the man as he introduced himself. He nodded cooly at Isobel, making her slightly giddy.

"Moanroe," Isobel responded sarcastically, to which Bill replied with a subtle grin.

"Why her though," Fred complained, who Isobel hadn't noticed was standing right next to her by the fireplace. He turned to Arthur suddenly as if he had a frightening thought.

"She's not going to be my partner is she?!"

"She's more of a liability than the bloody death eaters," George added as he joined Fred in protest, "all I have to do is look at her funny and she'll curse me."

"Trust me you don't have to look at me funny," Isobel muttered.

"She's the only person in a 100-mile radius who is willing to help us so get used to it," Moody growled from the front of the group," and she's a damn sight more switched on than a lot of you so I'm taking her with me."

Isobel pulled a smug face at George as if to say 'Did you hear that' and in her peripheral vision, she saw Fred shake his head and cross his arms.

This wasn't school, people recognised her talent...and it felt good.

"Harry don't worry they won't recognise ye," Moody continued and he dug in his coat for something, "because they won't know which Harry's the real one."

"The real one?" Harry asked. Isobel loved seeing the confusion on his face. He had always been kept in higher regard when it came to Hogwarts and now the tables had turned. She knew something that he didn't.

Moody revealed a large circular flask from under his coat and he flicked the lid up on it, a thick damp smell pouring out that quickly filled the whole room. "I've heard you're all familiar with this particular brew," he said with a grin, but only Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared to know what he was referring to.

After Hermione forcefully took a hair from Harry's head, the younger members of the operation stood in a semi-circle around Moody in order to drink what had now been explained as polyjuice potion. It was time to turn into Harry Potter and the part Isobel was actually dreading the most. It was one thing becoming a guy, but to be a guy who had been marked for death by a tyrant...it was not something she was looking forward to.

Fleur drank first, and afterwards, Isobel stepped up to her to take her share. She took the flask as Fleur wretched from the taste and made the mistake of putting her nose a little too close to the nozzle. It smelt like overcooked cabbage and she pulled away after the first whiff, getting a serious hint of knotgrass and fluxweed on the second hit.

"Get a move on," said Ron as she continued to gag, "otherwise we might as well walk out the front door and hand Harry over to you know who."

Isobel glared at him and then heard a tut come from opposite her, from the mouth of Fred Weasley. He was looking at her like she was a little girl who he was about to lose his patience with and it made her blood boil. She'd like to have known how often he drank this shit in order to believe he could just down it on a whim.

She locked eyes with him as she put the flask to her lips and flicked it upwards, the horrific brown liquid running down her throat. It stung but Isobel didn't stop watching Fred as his eyes flickered down to her mouth, studying her lips around the lid, and it made her lose her attention a little bit.

"Don't forget to swallow," said George, snapping her back to the room and realising how much polyjuice potion she had actually poured into her mouth, "it's rude to spit out on such a nice carpet."

Isobel pulled away from the bottle and swallowed. She hadn't found the advice funny, in fact, she was disgusted. She shoved the bottle into Hermione's hands and wiped her bottom lip dry with her sleeve. 

***

"Well good luck mate, should we say first back home has to do a stock check in the morning?" said a Harry as two of them came out into the back garden of Privet Drive. Isobel was already there setting things up.

"I don't know, I don't feel that lucky," said the other Harry as he grabbed the broom behind Isobel, "but at least I don't have a furry dick strapped to my leg like some people, so maybe the Death Eaters won't target me out of pity."

Isobel knew it was Fred behind her due to his broom of choice. It was scratched, tatty, and had seen a large amount of bashing. He always was utterly careless with any possession he ever had and clearly having money of his own still hadn't changed that. She would've thought that coming from somewhat of a humble background, he would know how to treasure expensive things.

"It's a lucky rabbit's foot," Isobel corrected him over her shoulder, "and you would know that if you paid any attention to the myth module in muggle studies."

"Doesn't look like a lucky rabbit to me, it got its foot cut off," joked the Harry fixing his broom behind Fred, who Isobel assumed was George. He and Fred laughed together at her expense.

"I'm still maintaining it's a dick," Fred said to George and then he leaned causally to rest on his broom, gesturing for George to join him in mocking her even more. "Monroe just because you hate men, it doesn't mean you can just cut wizards' wands off and start wearing them like some cult-inspired fashion statement."

George sniggered alongside his brother which only encouraged Fred even more. They reminded her of the little boys she had to babysit when she was younger, who had only just discovered the female gender and went out of their way to punish girls for it for some reason.

Isobel threw her wand in Moody's sidecar and turned around to face her mockers, full of attitude and a low tolerance for the bullshit coming out of their mouths. "Well you don't have to worry about me taking yours," she teased, "you don't really have what I'm looking for, but if I do ever require something completely useless and disappointing, then I'll let you know."

It was a good thing George was standing behind Fred because Fred would not have liked the way George tried to suppress a laugh. Especially because the jokester couldn't seem to find the humour in what Isobel had fired back at him.

"And how would you know what's disappointing," Fred sniggered, "it's not like you've had anything to compare it against."

Fury rose within her. She couldn't believe he had brought it up again. Well, if that's all he had, she could go further.

"I have ears Weasley," she said, "and it's quite interesting what you overhear in the girl's bathroom. Angelina Johnson especially had some fascinating things to say, as did most of the girls you somehow managed to convince to go near you."

Fred moved forward to intimidate her, but unfortunately, as he was Harry it didn't quite have the same effect as his six-foot-three self usually would have. "Yeah well, believe all you want, but do you know why you had to be sad enough to listen to reviews of me in the Bathroom instead of actually experiencing it for yourself?" he asked, his breath reaching her skin as he leaned down to tell her directly, "because I wouldn't go near you even if you begged."

As she looked up at him she admired how much of a statement he thought he had just made, and by the confident look on his face, he really thought he had made a good one. Oh bless, he really thought saying that would make her upset.

"And I thank god for that every day Weasley," she said calmly, knowing that he would hate her saying his name like that, "I really do."

"Right everyone let's not wait here like we're sitting ducks, let's get a move on!" said Moody as he stormed out of the house to the garden, conveniently breaking up the intense exchange between Isobel and Fred. He was followed out by the rest of the adults and the Harrys, each and every one of them looking very determined.

Fred, who right now was giving her a stare of pure disklike, stepped away to get on his broom and Isobel followed him with her eyes with a smirk. She turned away to get into Moody's sidecar but was stopped by another Harry, one she guessed wasn't the real one because of their demure demeanour.

"Good luck," the Harry said with a French twang and immediately Isobel recognised Fleur.

"You too," Isobel replied softly, accepting the hug Fleur offered her.

"Just keep your wits about you and you'll be fine," Fleur told her as she eyed something over Isobel's shoulder. She then pulled back and whispered very quietly, "But you've got to make it out of here unharmed. I don't want them to win any bets."

"Bets?" Isobel asked, turning around to look at Ron and Hermione who stopped giggling as soon as she looked their way, "what are they betting on?"

"How long you'll last up there," Fleur answered, "it was the twin's idea."

Isobel furiously looked around at Fred, but he had his back turned to her, deep in conversation with Mr Weasley about what route they were going to take back to the burrow. "Oh was it now," she hissed.

"So stay alive okay," Fleur encouraged as she squeezed her shoulders, "Me and Remus have got a huge price on you making it back to the burrow."

At that point Lupin had just raised his broom in the air and when he heard Fleur say this he turned his back to the girls.

"You bet on me, professor?" Isobel asked him. She was disappointed that he would ever engage in Fred and George's childish behaviour, she always looked up to him as a sensible man.

Lupin pretended he wasn't avoiding her at all and turned around nonchalantly to face her with a smile. "Take it as me supporting you!" he said encouragingly, but when Isobel crossed her arms he sagged his body and told her the truth, "Besides Hagrid already bet me that he'd make it back before me and George and I fear that I may lose that one, so I have to make the money up somewhere."

George leaned across the way to fist-bump Lupin and told him they were going to win anyway, to which Lupin just stared him down. George brought his hand down and got on his broom shyly.

"Alright, you all have your orders," Moody announced to them all from the front, "each Harry has their partners and each pair has their trail back to the base. Be ready for anything, but most importantly, stay vigilant."

Isobel sat in the sidecar of Moody's bike and waited. They were going to be last out and she fidgeted with her nails at the prospect of entering into the unknown. Next to them in line was Ron and Tonks, and when Isobel glanced over at her, the cheeky witch gave her a nod and a wink. She looked like she was about to be launched on a rollercoaster rather than into a terrifying unknown. 

"We all make it back to the Burrow, no stops or detours until everyone is safe," Moody continued, "Good Luck everyone." 

The sentiment was echoed down the line and then the atmosphere turned dark when everyone got ready to leave. One by one, on Moody's command, the pairs flew off into the night sky. Some went off on brooms, some were riding thestrals, and some - in the actual Harry's case - entered the moonlight in the sidecar of a motorbike driven by Hagrid. Isobel watched them all from the ground and was fascinated by the lack of fear that had been presented. It made her want to hide hers, though there was no hiding when it came to Alistair Moody.

"On Alert Monroe," he grunted as he stepped inside his broom that had been transformed to accommodate his metal leg. He sat down so that they were next to each other with her in the sidecar, and he pulled out his wand with a revengeful glint in his eye. "You're about to be given the most intense Defence Against The Dark Arts class of your life."

Chapter Text

Moody had been right. Isobel had hoped that they were going to have some quiet time before the Death Eaters hit, some time to get prepared before they were potentially attacked, and that was if the Death Eaters even turned up at all. However, her hopes of a danger-free journey quickly fleeted away as soon as they broke away from the clouds. In the blackened night sky, with only the stars above them for guidance, they were thrust into a hurricane of wizards and witches recklessly shooting spells. They were going to be on them from the start.

"Keep your wand out at all times and cast every defensive spell your beady little eyes have ever read," Moody shouted to her as they joined the chaos, "up here you aren't a schoolgirl, I need a warrior or you're going to die. These people don't give pity, you're a muggle-born, they'll kill you for fun."

A large lump formed in Isobel's throat and as she sat in the sidecar, her sweaty hands had trouble gripping her wand. They flew up higher into the cold winds of the clouds and they were thrown into a soundscape of sparks and screams from all angles. Black cloaks were flying all around them and with no clear path out, it was hard not to be alarmed by the voices in the far distance who were desperately calling for help.

"Should we go to them-"

"Hold on for a minute!" Moody shouted over her and she grabbed onto the handle in front of her, keeping her steady as he pulled a sharp left turn. Isobel yelped as her ribs slammed into the walls of the sidecar.

Inevitably, as was the plan, a group of Death Eaters saw Isobel as Harry and immediately started to chase the pair whilst firing all kinds of curses at them. She heard one of them shout to another that they were backing a good one because they thought Moody would be the best protection for Harry, and another one shouted back that it wasn't true because that 'old maniac' was past his prime. Moody fired an unspecified curse at him and that particular wizard fell off his broom to the ground.

"Did you just kill him?!" Isobel asked as she ducked under a bright beam of green light.

"Technically I only knocked him over," Moody replied as he steered them away from an oncoming curse, "the ground did the rest."

When Isobel gave him a disapproving look he just shook his head and stared into the distance. 

"You have a lot to learn missy."

Isobel, though slightly stunned at the thought that this wasn't just the theory she was reading in a textbook anymore, tried to concentrate so as to not let Moody down. She started firing defensive spells at any dark-cloaked wizard she saw, and as a team, the two of them managed to successfully keep danger at bay. It was weird, she had never even dreamed that she would ever have to use these spells in real life but here she was. It gave her a thrill even though she was mostly terrified of being killed. 

After an intense twenty minutes or so there was a period of no action, and Isobel noticed that they had travelled a long way from Privet Drive and had lost all of the other Harry's. It was then that she felt safe enough to look around and take in a deep breath. It was dead silent as they flew over the countryside from a great height, and as she saw the fields below change from short grass to agricultural, she knew that they were approaching the Burrow and the Lovegood's house. It was almost over. This calmed her nerves by just a tiny bit, but that was until she saw a small figure the size of a bee flying below them at a rapid pace.

"There's someone down there!" Isobel shouted to Moody to alert him.

She stared further downwards and that's when she noticed it was another Harry flying below her, dodging at least three death eaters on their tail that were vastly gaining speed. Isobel searched around looking for their partner, only to find no one there. They were cornered.

"There's a Harry down there!" Isobel shouted, "No one is with them, we need to help them!"

When no one responded Isobel looked around to see that Moody was currently fiercely duelling a wizard one-on-one and therefore was unavailable. A group of them had appeared as if from nowhere. She debated what to do, as she had been given strict instructions to not leave the sidecar except for an extreme emergency, but considering that the others didn't need another reason to hate her and she couldn't be blamed for letting the chosen one get killed...she decided that this was an emergency and she had to provide help herself.

The Death Eaters were drawing closer to the Harry, so without wasting another second, Isobel disconnected her broom which had been attached to the sidecar and jumped onto it.  She hadn't flown a broom since the accident, and though she was shaky it came flooding back to her as second nature. As she left Moody and flew straight down, she saw that the Harry was fighting the closest Death Eater to him so Isobel took the back two, cursing "Incendio" to form a large wall of fire between them and their target. This deterred them and made them fly away with singed cloaks but that still left the problem of the wizard that was dangerously close in front. It looked like he was about to throw a curse at the Harry. Isobel raised her wand and shouted "Expelliarmus", causing the Death Eaters' wand to fly out of their hand. With no choice other than to chase after it, the Death Eater vanished from sight.

"Are you okay?" Isobel said to the Harry once she had caught up to him, shaking with adrenaline, "Where's your partner?"

"I lost Remus in the Ambush," they breathed, "thanks, I didn't think I'd make it out of there."

Isobel had a moment of realisation as she saw him crinkle his nose in a way that she remembered vividly. It was George Weasley. Out of everyone she could have saved...it had to be one of them.

"Don't mention it," she said, slightly regretting her choice to help, "I only did it in case you were the real one."

"George!" called the voice of Remus from above. Whatever had caused him to separate from George, it was over now, and he came flying overhead with skin so pale it matched the moon above them. "Come back up with me quickly!"

George gave Isobel a curious look, perhaps realising who his saviour had been, and flew up to join his teammate. She relished in the next few moments of loneliness and processed what had just happened whilst taking deep breaths. She had fought a Death Eater on her own. Not only that, she had won against a Death Eater on her own. Yes, there was the downside of saving George Weasley in the process, but she still felt proud enough to smile in satisfaction with herself.

"I've got you now Potter!"

A large hand reached over to Isobel and grabbed her arm tightly, pulling her suddenly towards the right and making her broom collide with theirs with a jolt. She looked up in fear to see a dark-cloaked figure flying alongside her, his anonymous identity striking a shiver down her spine. She lifted her wand slightly off the broom to try and point it at him but it wasn't a clear shot, she was trapped, and when he noticed her doing it she thought all of her hopes at arriving at the Burrow alive were dead in the water.

As the hooded wizard studied the details of her wand, Isobel's heart began to beat faster with panic as they flew slowly in the air. They would for sure realise that this wasn't Harry Potter's wand, and when they did so, she didn't know what they would do to her after. They at least wanted Harry alive.

"Monroe?" the Death Eater asked.

She recognised the voice even over the fierce winds that were blowing past them, but she was curious as there was no way a Death Eater would ever know her name. It was only after his cloak hood fell back after one particularly strong gust of wind that it was revealed that her captor was the one person who would ever recognise her by her wand shape alone. A person she had not expected to see for a very long time.

"Draco?" Isobel asked in shock, "What are you doing here?"

His usually stiff blonde hair was a mess across his face and his skin was cracked with numerous deep scars. It was not the confident Draco she had been used to seeing, who would strut around Hogwarts castle like he owned it. He was almost completely unrecognisable to the point of being broken.

"I could say the same thing to you," he said deeply upon her admission, his eyes wide open with confusion that she looked just like Harry Potter, their mutual enemy who they had once bonded over. "You're flying."

In the surprise of his presence, Isobel had wanted to treat him like an old friend, which had been true at some point. But they weren't friends anymore. Their sixth year had happened, and he had been part of the group that had killed their headmaster. He wasn't a friend, and they weren't on the same team. 

"There's an explanation, but you won't believe it," she told him to try and plead her case.

Draco gripped her arm even tighter, causing the skin to pinch. He just stared at her, the depths of his eyes reddening as he struggled with a dilemma.

"I can't let you go," he said, "you know that right." 

Isobel's fear increased when she saw he wasn't joking. "But I'm not the real Harry am I, I haven't done anything," she replied.

His frantic stare softened slightly and Isobel felt a sensation similar to being dunked in ice. She realised he wasn't talking about her being Harry Potter, she wouldn't even need to be associated with him to be in trouble. She was already a problem because of who she was.

"Mudbloods get brought in," said Draco, "that's the rule."

She digested his words like sour medicine. She had heard the term before of course, from small-brained pureblood wizards who just needed a slur to convey their prejudice, but she had never had it directly said to her. It was a harsh reminder of how the wizarding world was changing.

"You can let me go," Isobel told him, "no one would know you did it. You don't have to do this." 

"I can't let you go, Izzy," Draco replied in a hollow tone, "and you know why."

"Oi back-off scar face!"

Something shaped like a very big rock flew down from the sky and knocked Draco off of his broom, causing him to fall into Isobel and knock her off as well. Draco and Isobel plunged towards the ground at a hurtling rate, broomless, and just as she had accepted that this was the moment she was going to die, someone soared in and scooped Isobel up onto their broom. As she caught her breath and thanked the gods for whoever had saved her, Isobel clung to the person for dear life. She enjoyed watching the trees grow smaller in height from below as they regained altitude, but she couldn't help but search for Draco and wonder if he had been saved also.

She knew what kind of family he came from, but she never thought he would ever fully become like them. The Draco she knew had better potential than that.

"Sorry about that, I threw it quite strong," her saviour said with a grin on their face. 

Isobel was about to gushingly thank them for what they did when she looked over their shoulder and saw that it was a Harry, which rapidly cut down her options as to who it would be. The only person who would save her from that group was Fleur, but they didn't speak with a French accent. Isobel then looked down at the broom she was riding on for more clues and instantly became repulsed...it was Fred Weasleys.

She had been saved by Fred Weasley. She would have rather taken her chances with Draco or the ground.

"You idiot I could have died!" Isobel shouted in his ear, "What is wrong with you?!"

If it wasn't for balance, she would have lifted her hands off of his waist and slapped him in the head.

"Oi Monroe, what happened to your broom?" Moody called down to her as he flew to their side. He didn't seem like he cared for her wellbeing, he just cared about the fact that she had gone off-plan.

"Oh great, I rescued you," Fred muttered to himself quietly as his hero-like arrogance wiped away from his face.

"Weasley knocked me off it," Isobel shouted to Moody.

"I can do it again if you like," Fred replied sarcastically.

It may have been written in the stars, or perhaps Isobel had earned some really good karma in another life, but she didn't have to ride with Fred Weasley for long at all after that. Within five minutes they had reached the protective shield that was covering the Burrow, the Weasley family home, and they were able to dismount safely onto the dried grass below. As soon as they landed, Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Luna and Xeno all rushed out of the front door to greet them.

"Who else is back?" Moody demanded to know immediately as he limped across the garden to the front door.

Isobel jumped off Fred's broom as soon as she could and ran to Luna, the polyjuice potion wearing off as they hugged. She was now herself again and safe and she couldn't have felt better. She was glad that she never had to do anything like that again. 

"George and Remus got back around two minutes before you did," Ginny answered as she hugged Fred firmly, "they're just inside, where's dad?"

"He's fine but I had to leave him," said Fred, and he turned to face Isobel with a face of disdain, "because someone was an idiot and I had to save their arse."

Whilst pulling away from her hug with Xeno, Isobel could see Luna pleading with her to not retaliate but she couldn't not defend herself. What happened was his fault and if something were to happen to Mr Weasley then it would be awful of him to blame it on her. "Yeah, you saved my arse but after you made me plunge to my death!" Isobel replied, "So when can I expect money for a new broom since you made me abandon it?"

"Let's all calm down, I think everyone's just a bit tired," said Xeno happily as he tapped Isobel on the shoulder, "should we go in and have a brew as we wait for the others?"

Unfortunately for him, his attempt at peace-making didn't work. Even with the offering of tea and biscuits.

"Didn't realise you needed help finding a little bit of balance," said Fred and he took a step closer to her, walking away from an unimpressed Ginny. "You've got thighs for a reason, did you just forget how to use them? God knows how you ever made it onto the tea-"

"Or maybe you could just learn how to make your spells hit their targets," Isobel snapped as she took a step forward, Xeno's hand on her shoulder not being enough to keep her back, "or did you just forget how to do that since you're a Hogwarts drop out?"

Fred smirked and the fact that he chewed his cheek told Isobel that she had gotten him there. It was something that must have been sensitive to him, and she was glad that she had hit that nerve after he had brought up the Quidditch team. 

"Whose to say I missed?" he goaded.

"Come on now, stop being silly and come inside," Mrs Weasley said firmly. Most of her family were still out missing and Isobel could see that her eyes were strained with worry. Though her gut instincts were telling her to fight Fred to the absolute end, she couldn't bring more stress onto a mother like that. So, even though her mind was screaming at her to give him what for, Isobel bit her tongue and backed down.

"Didn't you say you were making biscuits Luna?" Isobel asked her best friend, her tone suddenly switching to friendly as if she had never been speaking to Fred at all. 

Luna nodded, though not entirely happy with what had just gone on. "Yeah we did," she said, "and I made your favourite, chocolate with bits of fizzing whizbees. They just came out of the oven."

Isobel gave Fred a lingering look that told him this wasn't over and stepped away towards the Burrow, followed by Luna and Xeno who mentioned that he wanted to put the kettle on. The Burrow was similar to Luna's house, with its small rooms and its make-shifted structure, but it was much taller to accommodate all the people living in it. The warm colours and the smell of baking made it feel very homely, and Isobel was surprised that a house this humble could produce sons like the Weasley twins. 

"You did well to control yourself," Luna whispered to her as they entered the kitchen, which was a small section of the ground floor marked by a sink, oven and dining table. "That was mean of him to bring that up."

Isobel was surprised that she had recognised this, as she usually tried to see the best in them. "I know, if it wasn't for my respect to Mrs Weasley I would've punched him," Isobel whispered back, "one uppercut to his jaw and I'll be able to live the rest of my life in peace."

Xeno brushed past them as they sat down at the dining table and he lit the stove to heat the kettle. "He saved your life little one" he told her kindly, "give him some credit for that."

"I would, but you don't know him, he's going to get off knowing that I owe him that now," Isobel argued as she placed one hand on her right set of ribs. It was only now that she was out of danger did she realise that there was a numbing pain there.

"Are you hurt?" Xeno asked, noticing her wince in pain, "is it your scar? Did you hit it?"

"I'm fine," Isobel smiled weakly.

"To hell you are," Xeno mumbled and he swiftly left the kitchen to go back outside, calling for Mrs Wealsey in the process.

Isobel sighed and slumped in her wooden chair. She hadn't wanted Xeno to worry about her or kick up a fuss, and she really didn't want Xeno to go around shouting that she was hurt. The last people she wanted to find out about her injury was the Weasleys.

"What happened out there?" Luna asked as she waved her wand and called the freshly warm tray of chocolate chip biscuits over to their table. She said it with such a sympathetic look in her eye that all Isobel could do was look down at the turquoise pyjamas Luna was wearing and be glad that it was her that went instead. She wouldn't have wanted someone as innocent as her to be put in that kind of danger, no matter what Luna had said she had done before. 

"It was all going well until I saved George from some Death Eaters," Isobel started to explain.

"You saved George?" Luna interrupted, initially expressing happiness at this news but then narrowing her eyes as she thought about it a bit more, "...but then why was Fred angry with you just now?"

Isobel took in a big breath and sighed. She knew Luna was happy because she thought her saving George would make them friends, but it was never as simple as that. "Because once I saved George...Fred had to save me."

Using 'Fred' and 'saved' in the same sentence felt wrong, and she forced herself to say the rest of it. "George flew back to Remus and I was enjoying flying on my own, it being my first time back on a broom-"

"Wait you flew again?"

"Yeah, it was incredible, I just rushed through the air like I had never stopped."

"That's great Iz!"

"Thanks...I mean it was great until a man flew right next to me and grabbed me by the arm. He held me down and I didn't know what to do until I saw his face...it was Draco."

"Draco?" Luna asked as her eyes widened, "like Draco Malfoy?"

"Yeah," Isobel replied, "he recognised my wand didn't he, after everything that happened with Umbridge and that. But he wasn't going to let me go even after finding out that I was me."

Luna took a moment but she quickly caught on to what Isobel meant. She reached for her friend's hand and squeezed it, offering a small release of comfort.

"Mudbloods get taken in," Isobel said bitterly, "that's what he told me. He called me a mudblood...do you believe that?"

"Unfortunately yes," Luna said sadly, picking up a biscuit and handing one to Isobel, "but he didn't get you did he, so what happened then?"

Isobel swallowed hard and tried to remain unemotional. "Fred hit us with something, I don't know what, but he knocked both me and Draco off. He then raced down to make sure I didn't hit the ground and die but, after realising it was me, I'm sure he wished he'd never bothered."

"But if he was the one that knocked you off...why was he mad at you?" Luna asked.

Isobel took a lazy bite of the biscuit and was delighted to see that it was deliciously rich, the chocolate completely melting in her mouth as the popping candy if the whizbees tickled her tongue. "Because it's Fred Weasley...and it's me," she sighed, "I'm pretty sure we're destined to hate each other for eternity, and I'm happy with that."

With glazed-over eyes, she started to embrace the tiredness she was feeling and she nudged the tray of biscuits over to Luna to make sure she took one. Luna did and they sat and ate them together, Isobel wanting to change the subject and asking about how the baking process had been. Apparently, Mrs Weasley had been so distracted that she almost put salt in hers and Ginny's muffins and Xeno had used the grass from outside in his biscuits to make it all natural, so Isobel was happy that Luna had only stuck to chocolate for hers. The two were laughing about it when footsteps approached them and caused a cut-off to their conversation.

"Mum asked me to bring you these as Xeno needs to help Remus with something," said a voice and George Weasley approached them. Luna was still beaming from her laughter but Isobel's grin faltered when he looked down at her. He placed a small brown bottle down on the table and she read the label, it was pain relief in a healing cream. 

"Thanks," Isobel said and she took the bottle in her hands. She hoped that he wouldn't ask questions. 

"Do you know how to use it?" he asked.

"A cream? Yeah, I think I'll be able to work it out," she replied sarcastically. 

George rolled his eyes at her and scratched the back of his head. She couldn't understand why he was still there, she had expected him to put the bottle down and leave. 

"You didn't get hurt when you...," George paused, "...you know..."

"Saved your life?" Isobel interrupted airily, "No, it wasn't then. Don't worry you don't have to force pity."

George nodded and he reached down to grab a biscuit. They were Luna's so Isobel didn't say anything when he didn't ask permission to take one but she did glare at him when he walked away without saying anything to her, not even a thank you.

"Thank you by the way," he said just after she thought it, an attempt to make her look stupid even if it was just to the thoughts in her mind. 

"No worries, I made them for everyone," Luna smiled.

"No, I meant Monroe."

Isobel thought she had been dreaming, or that perhaps the night's emotional toll had finally caused her to hallucinate. She couldn't have just heard that George Weasley said thank you to her.

"Excuse me?" she asked and she swivelled round in her chair to face him. 

George stopped in his tracks and shrugged casually. He didn't look particularly happy, or thankful, if anything it looked like it had pained him to say it. He had probably hoped he could just slip it out and not have to say it to her directly. "I'm not like my brother, I can put personal feelings aside," he said, "thank you for what you did out there."

Isobel's lips parted to say a response but she found herself not being about to say the words. She was still waiting for the joke, the prank, the little catch that would put everything back on her. However, that didn't come. He had actually meant it.

"No problem," she said, acting as normal as she could sound at that moment.

George didn't say anything else and walked away, which saved any awkwardness this weird interaction would have caused if he stayed a moment more. Isobel stared at where he had stood and slowly turned herself back around on her chair, grabbing the biscuit tray to start stuffing her face with another one.

"Did you two... just exchange something nice with each other?" Luna asked.

"I think so," said Isobel, who was stunned and crunching down on two biscuits at the same time, "are you sure you didn't put some special ingredients in these Luna? I think they're affecting people's behaviour."

Chapter Text

"And now for our headline news this morning. Disappearances are continuing to rise, with the Minister of Magic due to give a speech on national security this evening. More than twenty muggle-born witches and wizards have been reported missing this week alone, an almost fifty per cent increase from last week, but the Ministry has advised everyone not to panic. Rufus Scrimgeour has announced that he will give a speech this evening directed at witches and wizards of half-blood and muggle-born descent, explaining his plans to stop these mysterious happenings. In the hope that any of these missing persons can hear this, I will begin reading their names now. Dea-"

Isobel turned off the radio she had placed on Luna's vanity table and sat silently, looking out the bedroom window. More disappearances, increasing by the week. It had gotten so bad that the Minister of Magic was now giving a speech about it. Isobel had read all about the first wizarding war, and this was all how it had started before.

It was funny; everyone knew who was doing this, so it should've been easy for the Government to do something about it. But no one was brave enough to speak out for fear that they would go missing too. It was you-know-who's followers, the Death Eaters, and the new rumour was that they had hired a new group of wizards called the "snatchers" who kidnapped anyone they saw as an enemy. Isobel hadn't encountered any snatchers yet, but she knew she was on borrowed time - especially after her encounter with Draco. It made wanting to go outside a dangerous activity.

"Can't have a wedding without starting the celebrations early!" said Xeno with joy as he walked into Luna's bedroom, carrying the special tea they drank for all occasions.

Isobel was now glad she had turned the radio off when she had done. Xeno didn't like to hear the news as he thought the media reporting it was corrupt, but Isobel thought he had that privileged position because he was pure blood. He was never in fear of being read out as a missing person.

"What's going on? Why are you not dressed?" he asked as he delicately placed the tea set on the bed. "Luna's just about ready."

Isobel looked down at her nightgown and pretended to look sickly. "I don't think I'm going to make it to the wedding," she said, "a really strong headache has come over me, and I think it's just better if I stay here and rest."

There was no headache paining her at all, in fact, she felt perfectly healthy, but the thought of attending that wedding did make her feel like she was coming down with something. It had been two weeks since the night she had helped save Harry from Privet Drive, and she hadn't heard anything from anyone. There had been no job offers, not even a hint of one or a letter of recommendation. She had done her part and hadn't got anything in return. She felt used.

"Oh well, I have something for headaches. I'll grab it now," Xeno said, and before Isobel could argue any differently, he rushed out of the room to the bathroom, where she could hear him searching through cabinets. She sighed and turned herself back to face the mirror she had placed on Luna's vanity desk, looking at herself in its reflection.

Facing the Order was one reason, but the Weasleys were the second. What Fred had said about her flying had really brought up old emotions that she hadn't felt in a long time, about people she hadn't thought of in a long time, and it had made her fall into a small depression. She had worked hard to move past those memories, yet he was callous enough to bring her back to them.

She hated him.

She also hated that he wasn't the biggest reason she didn't want to go today. She yearned for him to be it; it would've been much simpler, but the world hadn't made her that lucky.

"You won't be able to avoid them forever," Luna sang as she entered the bedroom wearing a mustard-coloured dress with ruffles. She and Xeno matched, and he wore a suit of the same colour.

"I can, and I intend to," Isobel replied sassily. She had not bothered lying to Luna; she knew exactly how she felt.

"Fleur will be really disappointed," said Luna as she sat on her bed. She grabbed some pastel pink high heels and started sliding them onto her feet. "You can't upset the bride on her big day."

Isobel kept staring outside the window. She loved watching the trees blow in the breeze. "Fleur will be the star of the show, surrounded by her closest friends and family," she smiled, "trust me, she won't notice I'm gone."

Knock. Knock.

There was a knock was at the door, but Luna and Isobel didn't hear it.

"It won't be like the last time; there'll be lots more people for you to meet," said Luna, trying to convince Isobel to go.

"Yes, more people like them," Isobel grunted.

"Unless...," Luna said slowly, "...they're not the only reason?"

Isobel turned her head to face Luna. She appeared thoughtful and was looking slightly over her shoulder. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"You're listening to the radio again," said Luna. "The news, something's happened, hasn't it?"

She didn't want to talk about it. It was meant to be a happy day, and talking about it would only bring Luna down. But she couldn't lie to Luna, she hadn't so far and she needed someone to vent to. Luna was her best friend; she understood.

"There's...been more disappearances," Isobel told her.

"Of muggleborns?" Luna asked.

Isobel nodded. "The minister is telling everyone not to panic, but come on, how many times have we been told that at Hogwarts alone."

The school faced bigger threats than any other normal school, from trolls to killer snakes to werewolves and dementors. It was never a safe place, yet its students always felt like it was anyway.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence," Luna suggested, "maybe there's an explanation."

Isobel sighed. Luna's positivity was always useful, but it didn't always hit the mark when it came to dark situations. "We know the explanation," said Isobel, "you heard what Draco called me, and anyone who's ever picked up a book knows that this is all how it started the last time. It's going to get worse, and I'm scared."

Another knock came from downstairs.

"I promise Iz," said Luna, who had finished putting on her shoes and now had her entire attention on her friend, "nowhere is going to be safer than the Burrow today. I saw the Minister over there earlier, he put up the protective enchantments himself."

Knock.Knock.

"ISOBEL MONROE, IF YOU ARE UP THERE AND IGNORING ME, I WILL KNOCK THIS DOOR DOWN AND CURSE YOU MYSELF!"

Interrupted by a harsh female voice, Isobel and Luna jumped off their seats and ran to the window. When Luna opened it from the hatch and the girls looked down, they could see a distressed Fleur Delecour in her wedding dress, her hands angrily on her hips, and Mrs Weasley standing a few paces behind. 

"Ah, finally!" said Fleur when she glanced up and saw their faces. "What has a bride got to do to get some attention around here?"

"What are you doing here?" Isobel asked. Fleur defined beauty in her pearly white wedding dress, the sunlight reflecting off of it to make her glow. Her golden long hair was in curls, and her simple makeup complimented her delicate features. She was a stunning bride, but the question was why she was standing in here in the middle of a muddy field.

"I thought you could help," Mrs Weasley sighed, and she lifted up the back of Fleur's dress. Luna audibly gasped as it was revealed that a large purple stain was running all the way down the back, and multiple holes were ripped into it. As girls, they could appreciate that this was an absolute travesty. 

"I'll be right down!" Luna shouted and she ran out of the room, passing Xeno who had just re-entered the room carrying three bottles of powder he called a headache cure. 

Isobel dismissed him immediately, saying that she no longer felt any pain.   

***

"So, how did this happen again?" Isobel asked as she grabbed her wand and knelt down behind Fleur in the Lovegood's living room. 

"Well," Fleur snapped, staring at Mrs Weasley as if it was somehow her fault, "it was Bill's stag party the other night and I was away in London with my sister. For some reason, they all thought playing Quidditch when they were half drunk would be funny, and they took turns wearing my dress to do it. The holes are from them all bashing into each other!"

"What, and Bill allowed that?" Luna asked as she handed an exhausted Mrs Weasley a cup of tea. Her purple skirt and blouse combination made her fade right into the armchair.

Mrs Wealsey took one sip and quickly spat it back out again. One might have thought that it was too hot, but Isobel knew that it was because Lovegood's tea was a required taste. "Bill didn't know about it," Mrs Weasley argued. "He has been quite firm that he was asleep by that time, and they all kept it a secret for him."

Isobel drew her wand over the netting of Fleur's dress and cast a stain remover charm she had used multiple times. She had asked Mrs Weasley why she couldn't have done it herself when they had first come in, and she had told her that Fleur no longer trusted any Weasley with her dress. She had thought of Isobel immediately.

"Let me guess, it was the twin's idea to keep it a secret?" Isobel asked.

"How did you know?" Mrs Weasley replied.

"Lucky guess." 

The stain lifted from the dress in smoke, and soon after, the material was as clean as new. She had managed to do half of it, but there was still the issue of the holes.

"I'm not great with stitching," she told Fleur as she got back to her feet, "but Luna's great, she makes clothes, are you able to do it Luna?"

Luna nodded and quickly pulled her wand out of her shoulder bag. She switched places with Isobel and started to work.

"Excuse me, what are you wearing?" Fleur asked Isobel as she sat down next to Mrs Weasley.

Isobel looked down at her robe, and under Fleur's sharp eyes, she felt embarrassed. "I uh...I uh..."

"She has a headache, so she's not going," said Luna. She only said this because she wanted Isobel to go, and she was behind the safety of Fleur's dress. She wouldn't see the glare that Isobel would throw her way.

If Fleur wasn't angry before, this seemed to top her completely over the edge. Had she been an animated character, she would've had steam pouring out of her ears and fire coming out of her head.

"You're not...going?!" she asked pointedly, "because of a headache?!"

Isobel wasn't often scared of people, but Fleur was definitely one of the few who could make her feel like she was under a spotlight. "It's a really bad one," Isobel replied, but even she knew how pathetic it sounded.

Fleur slowly stepped forward one foot at a time, making Luna shuffle on her knees to keep up with her as she did so. "This wedding has been meticulously planned all the way down to the last tiny detail. I have already woken up to a bad hair day, had to eat my breakfast in a house full of screaming excitable teenagers, been told my parents are being held up at the French Ministry so I don't even know if they're going to make it, found out my wedding dress was on the brink of ruin, and now you want to tell me that a tablespace will be left empty and uneven because you have a...headache?!"

When Fleur put it like that, Isobel's small problems seemed inexcusable. Under her furious gaze, Isobel forgot about her problems with her Order, her grudge against the Weasley twins, and her fears that Death Eaters would make their way to the wedding. With Fleur at the helm, she believed nothing would ruin her day. Fleur would rather kill than let it. 

"I'll just take something for it," Isobel said, and she nervously giggled to try and laugh it off, "I'll go up and get ready now."

"Good idea,"  said Fleur, and she broke a smile, "and wear your hair up, your bone structure suits it."

***                                             

"Do you think she's calmed down now?" Luna whispered to Isobel as they followed Fleur, Mrs Weasley and Xeno up the hill that kept the Lovegood's house separate from The Burrow.

"I hope so," Isobel whispered back, "I actually thought she would combust when that owl came from Bill asking where his tie was."

Luna had fixed the holes in Fleur's dress, and everything was fine again. Fleur was back to being a blushing bride, Mrs Weasley was relieved, and Luna was happy that Fleur had convinced her friend to attend the wedding. The only person who wasn't happy at the time was Isobel.  Just because she had agreed to go, it didn't mean she had wanted to go, and in fact, it was only because of intense peer pressure that she was walking in a lilac floor-length dress and incredibly high heels right now.

"I knew that clip would suit you," said Luna as she admired the silver butterfly clip that held Isobel's braided hair into place.

It had been given to her by her mother, a Lovegood family heirloom. Isobel refused to wear it and told Luna she should wear it herself, but Luna said it was a good luck charm and that Isobel would need it more to fight her nerves. 

"It's really pretty," Isobel replied, showing her gratitude, "and I love how it matches the sewing."

Her lilac dress had a trail of purple beads sewn all around it in the shapes of vines and butterflies. It was her favourite dress that Luna had ever made her.

"It's your spirit symbol," said Luna sweetly.

"Spirit symbol?" Isobel asked, "What's that?"

"Something that matches your soul," Luna answered as she glided her hands over the fern bushes they were passing, "or what it's calling out for."

"And you think mine is calling out to be a butterfly?"

"Something like that."

Luna sometimes had an air about her when she had a secret to keep or a hypothesis that she felt was correct. This made her talk in riddles, and only later would Isobel usually find out what it was. This appeared to be one of those times.

"Well...," said Isobel, deciding to let this one play out, "...I do like the idea of staying in a cacoon for months."

The sun rays were getting stronger now that it was approaching midday, and in the summer heat, Isobel was actually grateful to see the Burrow when they arrived because it meant they could stop walking. She took in the place for the first time in the daylight and was pleasantly surprised. It had been completely cut back, with a clear pathway paved through the wheat field that led to a large white marquee draped in various purple chiffon. Isobel wondered if Fleur would be annoyed with her for her dress being the same colour as her decorations, but she thought it best not to bring up anything that might make her frustrated again and that it might actually help her blend in.

"Make sure you look up," Luna told her. "You'll see the security charms; they're everywhere."

They all approached the marquee where the Weasley family was on hand to guide guests to their seats, and Isobel inspected the sky. A muggle wouldn't have been able to see anything different, but as a witch, she could just about see the dark blue whisps that were revenance of a protected shield, and a highly technical one at that. It made her feel slightly more relaxed seeing this, but then she peaked inside the tent and saw Fred and George attending to people inside and began to feel a headache coming on for real.

"Ah, here comes the runaway bride," grinned an older Wealsey Isobel had never met. He was standing outside the marquee and had a good-natured face, which was so tanned that it gave the impression that he didn't live around here. 

"Oh shut up," said Fleur as she stormed past him to head to the main house, "just seat my guests and make sure they get there in one piece, unlike your careful handling of my dress."

Mrs Weasley hurriedly followed behind her, getting more stressed again as the wedding approached. "Don't start Charlie!" she huffed at her son in passing, "and tell your father we should be good to go in ten minutes!"

So this was Charlie Weasley Isobel thought, the last Weasley sibling that she had yet to meet. Through his tailored blue robes, she could see that his arms were muscular, leading up to his neck, which had patches of sunburn, and she thought she could notice small singes around the end of his long hair. He definitely looked like a Dragon tamer, and Isobel thought he was quite attractive...for a Weasley.

"So you must be the heroes who saved the day," Charlie sighed with a smile as his mum slammed the house door.

"We are," said Isobel, who felt comfortable enough to say something, "presumably you played a part in almost ruining it."

"I will neither confirm nor deny that," Charlie smirked. His brown eyes lingered on Isobel, and she felt his sight sink into her. He had a certain mischievous charm that copied his brothers, but on him, it didn't annoy her.

"How have you been Charlie?" Xeno asked him, breaking the stare between the two of them with a handshake, "Molly said you just got back from Romania yesterday."

Charlie turned his attention to him, and Isobel felt like the sunshine had washed off her. "Sure did," he replied, "you've got to come visit again, we've rescued some amazing creatures. We caught a Bladewing recently, that's what kept me there until yesterday, gave me this."

Charlie lifted his suit jacket to reveal the skin of his left arm. Amongst a mosaic of symbolic tattoos, a deep red burn was embedded near his elbow. It looked extremely painful.

"Does it hurt? Luna asked with fascination, her fingers reaching out to touch it. 

Before she could get close, Charlie ripped his sleeve down to put it away. "Nah, not as much today will anyway," he joked with a smile, "should we go? Get this horrific show on the road?"

Isobel thought he might have been hiding something underneath the bravado, as he flinched too quickly for someone who appeared to be proud of their scars, but as he offered her his arm to take, she thought not to question the one Weasley that had made a good first impression on her. 

As they entered the first room of the marquee, they were draped into a floral wonderland. There were arrangements everywhere, from the chairs to the altar to even dropping from the sky, and in between were chandeliers carved from the most precious crystal. The colour scheme remained the same, white and purple, but up close, Isobel could see the smallest hint of silver. Two rows of golden chairs stood before them, ten chairs deep.

"If you could put us on your brother's side," Xeno said from behind them as they walked down the long aisle, "Bill was the one who invited us after all."

Charlie peered over his shoulder and nodded to him, but Isobel quickly saw where he was leading them too. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter sat in the second row, with three empty chairs next to them for Ron, Fred, and George. It was clear that Charlie was going to seat them behind them.

"Fleur was actually the one who invited me," she whispered into Charlie's ear, "so if you wouldn't mind putting me on her side."

"A friend of Fleur's?" Charlie asked, his eyebrows raising slightly as if this was a rare occurrence, "well, now I have to know your name."

"Isobel," she answered, "Isobel Monroe."

He smiled at her and she felt the sunshine return. If he was happy at the sound of her name, then he mustn't have heard anything from his family. "Well, Isobel Monroe, if you have managed to be friends with that one then you must have some amazing source of strength," he said sarcastically, "so it would be my honour to sit you wherever you'd like. Are you old school friends?"

"Oh no, I go to Hogwarts," she replied.

She felt his arms tighten around hers at this information. "In what year?" he asked, noticing a sense of unease around him. "How old are you?" 

"I'm in Ron's year," she answered plainly, "going into seventh."

This seemed to loosen Charlie, though his grip on her remained just as close. "Oh, good...so you know my brother. I'm amazed you've remained unharmed."

"Well, it's not like I'm battling dragons every day," Isobel joked, finding him amusing. "How did you get into that?"

A sparkle appeared in his eye when he began thinking about his reply to her question. Even before he spoke, Isobel was intently listening. "Always loved them, loved all animals really," Charlie explained, "I just feel like they're massively understood, they look vicious to the passing stranger who's unprepared, but once you know them, see them for who they actually are, you'll see that they're just like us. They want to be loved, to be safe, to survive...to occasionally burn people alive."

Isobel laughed at that last part but she really liked his answer. She could tell that he really enjoyed his job and cared about it. "That's really sweet," she told him, "a lot of people don't think that way."

"I think you'll find a lot of people don't think like me," he said flirtatiously.

Isobel rolled her eyes and shook her head but she knew he was only joking, he had appreciated her response. 

"So, if you don't mind me asking the gossip," he whispered down to her, "if you go to school with my brothers, why wouldn't you want to sit near them?"

"It's a long story," Isobel whispered conversationally, "so I won't bore you with it."

They arrived at an empty seat on the left-hand side, and both stopped. Isobel felt a slight sadness that the walk hadn't been longer. 

"Well, I think you'll find this is a good spot," said Charlie as he gestured to the chair, "great view of the stage, plus easy access to leave in case the ceremony gets incredibly dull and you want to make a run for it."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," said Isobel. As she went to sit down, Charlie stopped her gently.

"Just so you know," he said, "I happen to like long stories...and I don't think you could possibly bore me."

With a wink, he let her be and left her alone, walking back up the aisle and saying hi to other guests as they entered the marquee. She stared after him, his words making her blush. He hadn't had much competition, but it was safe to say he was the Weasley she liked most.

"Excuse me you look familiar, do we know eachother?"

Isobel slightly jumped as she was in a daze, and she turned in her seat to face the person who had asked her the question. Her eyes widened when she saw the brooding, thick-necked man sitting there in bright red robes with military buttons. It was Viktor Krum, the star seeker for Bulgaria and the Durmstrang entrant to the tri-wizard tournament. He was right; he did know her.

"We do," she said, her smile growing. "I'm Isobel. We met when you came to Hogwarts. I showed you to the library when you first got there."

Viktor looked somewhat relieved that she did, in fact, know him. He didn't appear to be with anyone and was sitting on his own. "I thought so," he said happily in remembrance, and then, with a thought, he asked her a question that would change her mood for the whole day: " You were friends with Cedric, right?" 

The question paralysed her for a fleeting moment. The mention of his name brought the memory to the forefront of her mind, and any joy that Charlie Weasley had given her instantly fluttered away. It was the second time this week she would be forced to think of Cedric Diggory, and that was more than she had done over the entirety of the last two years - having squished any thought of him so that she didn't fall apart. 

"Yes," she said solemnly, her smile fading away, "that's right."

Chapter Text

Isobel remembered the day she met Cedric Diggory.

It was the first week of term in her third year, and the leaves on the trees surrounding the grounds had just started turning brown. She was sitting in her favourite corridor at Hogwarts, by the bench that overlooked the courtyard, and she had her nose stuck deeply in a large leatherbound book. There was no monster in the pipes to worry about anymore, as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had saved the day at the end of the previous year, but that didn't mean Isobel didn't have something to be afraid of.

"Oh seriously, how has it never happened before!" she said as she flipped through the pages of 'The Entire History Of Azkaban Prison'. She had read in the Daily Prophet that Sirius Black, a murderer who had killed multiple people, had escaped Azkaban, the toughest wizard jail in the world. Isobel couldn't have worked out how he had done it, and she was racking her brain trying to find out how. If he had escaped Azkaban, then he could easily get into Hogwarts - so she wanted to be prepared.

"Where is he?" A voice whispered as two people turned the corner into the corridor.

"I don't know. I paid him two galleons, but I think Harry needed him to do something," said the other voice.

"Bloody Colin Creevy, I'm starting to think he's in love with him or something."

Isobel kept reading despite the disruption and started a chapter on the frightening guards of Azkaban, the dementors. From the picture sketched into the page, they didn't look like the type of creatures Isobel would ever want to meet. She had been told they were currently guarding Hogwarts for unknown reasons, and this alone had made her not step a foot outside, so she'd never seen one in the flesh.

"Hold on...I have an idea," said the first voice.

The footsteps continued up the corridor, and Isobel felt them creeping up to her. The bright sunlight suddenly dimmed as two tall people approached where she was sitting.

"Hi," said the voice.

Isobel wanted to ignore them but didn't want to be rude. She put her book on her lap, still open on the page, and looked up at her visitors.

"Hi," she said to them both.

"How would you like to earn some quick cash?" Fred Weasley asked her.

"I don't need it, thanks," she replied, lifting her book back up to tell them she was going back to reading. This wasn't entirely true; this was the first year she would be allowed to go to Hogsmeade village, and she would always need money to go there, but she remembered who she was talking to and didn't want to get involved.

"Then what do you need?" George Weasley asked her.

She wanted to tell them to leave her alone so she could read, but she thought that would be too harsh. "I don't need anything," she said.

"Oh come on, everyone needs something," George replied.

"Wait," said Fred as he stared at her for longer. "I recognise you. You're Izzy, right? The girl who was doing her homework at Christmas?"

So he did remember her. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"Isobel," she corrected him, "but yes, we've met before."

He had cost her house points, and when the other Ravenclaw students had returned from Christmas break to find out they were no longer in the lead, no one talked to her. No one talked to her except her new friend, Luna Lovegood.

"Ah, I knew it!" Fred said confidently, "I don't think she'll do it, George. She's always busy with this one. She doesn't do fun."

"Oh no way, why so busy Izzy?" George asked her with a smile.

"Huh, busy Izzy," Fred laughed as he thought to himself, "I like that."

"If you don't mind, I have some reading to do," said Isobel snootily and she returned to her book's comforting pages.

Fred sat down at the bottom of the bench and studied the cover. "Azkaban?" he asked, "Are you planning a visit?"

"For your information, I'm trying to find out how Sirius Black escaped," she told him.

"You can't be scared of him surely," said George, "he's just a man."

"A man who killed twelve muggles," Isobel corrected him.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, you're at a school for wizardry; you're a witch," said Fred, and he placed his hand on her book to lower it away from her face, "so you don't need to worry about him if he only kills muggles."

Isobel's eyes narrowed at his ignorance. "That's an extremely reductive view," she replied, "so you're telling me you aren't scared?"

"Nope," Fred grinned, "in fact, we're so unfazed that we're about to sneak off the grounds."

"But there are dementors!" said Isobel, her jaw-dropping, "what about if they catch you? What if you get in trouble? You can't sneak out!"

"Oh my god, you've found us Hermione Granger's long lost twin," said George as he chuckled to his brother.

Fred leaned closer to Isobel. "Well, we're not planning on getting caught...because you are going to be our lookout."

"No, I'm not," Isobel quickly refused. "The last time I covered for you, it ended up with me being the disappointment of Ravenclaw Tower."

"Because last time was unplanned," said Fred wisely, "we've been doing this for ages. You won't get in trouble, I promise. Colin Creevy has been doing it for us, and he has never gotten caught."

"Colin idolises you, I don't," Isobel told them firmly.

Fred placed his hand on his chest to act like this had hurt him physically. She didn't care, she knew it hadn't affected him one bit.

"You only need to stand outside the one-eyed witch statue and wait for us to come back," said George who she sensed was getting desperate. "We'll be gone for a maximum of an hour. You can keep reading your book as you do it."

"No, I'm not doing it, and you can't bribe me," Isobel told them, and she returned to her book.

Fred and George looked at each other hopelessly. She had been tougher to break than they had thought and way more than they were used to.

"Charms," said Fred, and he clicked his fingers as if he had just had a brilliant idea. "You needed help improving in charms. Whatever you need help with, we can teach you."

"I'm top of my class," Isobel replied flatly as she continued to read. She studied hard and got a perfect one hundred percent on her charms exam last year. 

"Potions? We know how to make the fun stuff," George said in an attempt to convince her.

Isobel smiled smugly, "top of my class."

"Is there anything you're not top at?" Fred sighed.

"Nope."

She didn't want to admit that it was because Hermione Granger had been petrified for half of the previous year, but she took the title anyway.

"Everyone's got a price," said George, "so come on busy-Izzy, what's yours?"

There was one thing, but she had sworn that she would never interact with the Weasley twins again. It was unfortunate though, as they did have the skills to help her.

"Ah, what's that?" said Fred as he noticed her eyes slightly drift away from the page. "You flinched. There's something, isn't there."

Isobel thought to herself carefully. Maybe last time was a one-off, and if Colin Creevy had been doing it for ages and hadn't gotten caught, then maybe there wasn't that much risk to it. She could give them one more chance, as she did really want it. Plus, they were being really nice to her. Everyone deserved a second chance.

"Tryouts are this Saturday," said Isobel quietly as she traced the book's outline, "and I want to get on the team."

"Quidditch?" George questionned.

"Yeah," Isobel snapped, sending him a cutting look, "what's wrong with that."

"No, nothing," said Fred, who had now grown a grin from ear to ear. "It's just you should've said sooner. We can get you on the team no problem—what position are you after?"

"Chaser," said Isobel, "it's the only free position."

"Can you fly?" George asked.

"I've practised all summer; I think I'm okay at it."

"Well, there you go, you're halfway there," said Fred, who could not have looked happier. "That solves it. You help us, and we'll help you get on the team."

And so, against her better judgment, she decided to trust the Weasley twins one more time. She walked with them through the halls of Hogwarts until they came to the statue of the one-eyed witch, George looking around when they got there to make sure the coast was clear, and Fred tapped his wand to open up a passageway at the back of the statue. Isobel was uncomfortable with waiting here as the statue had always creeped her out, but she remembered what she was gaining and realised it was worth it.

"We'll be back in an hour," said George as he stepped inside the doorway behind the statue's head.

"Yeah, and we'll bring you something back," said Fred, "what's your sugar poison of choice?"

"Fizzing wizzbees," Isobel answered, but then his question made her come to her senses, and she realised where they were actually going. "Wait, are you going to Hogsmeade? We're not allowed to go there out of visiting weekends!"

Fred and George ignored her, and as she shouted to them that there was a murderer on the loose, both of them crouched through the passageway, and the door slammed shut behind them.

As the minutes whirled away, Isobel sat there alone, reading her book with theories of Sirius Black and Azkaban running through her head. She kept in mind the Black family, who Isobel thought could've helped him escape, but when she had read about them earlier in "Wizarding Dynasties',  she saw that most of them were now dead, including Sirius's younger brother Regulus. If Sirius had help escaping, then it wasn't from family.

"What are you doing down there?" said a voice from above as the light outside was getting dark.

Frightened that she was about to be greeted by a Professor, or worse the school caretaker Filch, Isobel very carefully looked up just enough to see who was there. Luckily, to her relief,  it was neither a Professor or Filch. It was just a student.

"Waiting," she told the tall and handsome boy in Hufflepuff robes who stood in front of her. She knew him by his face; it was Cedric Diggory, a sixth-year student.

"For who?" He asked.

"A friend," she answered quickly, thinking on the spot.

"And will this friend be returning anytime soon?" Cedric asked, his brown eyes rounding on her, "Because it is nearly dinnertime."

Dinnertime meant that Fred and George had been gone for over three hours. They had told her they would only be gone for an hour at most - it was just another Weasley lie to get her to agree.

Isobel tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't sound like she was lying. "Maybe they got lost," she said, but even as the words parted her mouth, she knew that she sounded pathetic.

Cedric Diggory bit his lip and placed his hands in his pockets, making an effort to stick around when Isobel wanted nothing more than him to go away. She didn't know much about him, but she knew he was older than her, popular, and was the Hufflepuff seeker. She did not need him thinking that she had no friends.

"Can I perhaps tell you what I think has happened here?" he asked, giving her the impression that he wanted to tell her anyway but was too polite to impose.

Isobel nodded weakly and moved over on the floor so that he could sit down next to her, both of them fitting comfortably in front of the statue.

"I think," he said, adjusting his fluffy brown hair so that all strands parted to the right side, "that somebody told you to wait here as a lookout under the premise of free sweets."

Isobel scoffed. He was right on the money, but she didn't know how. "You really think I would sit here all this time for free sweets?" she asked lightly.

"Well, I doubt Fred and George would offer you much more," he told her. "That's what they were offering Colin Creevy, plus a couple of galleons."

Isobel glanced at him curiously and saw the prefect's badge pinned to the crest of his robes. Of course he knew about them, he had been on patrol every night. 

"So you know," she said.

"Who do you think stopped Colin from turning up tonight?" Cedric smiled, "I had to step in. Lots of the other prefects kept filing him for detention for lurking about."

Isobel looked down at her book in shame. He probably thought she was some stupid girl who was foolish enough to be bribed by the older years, not that she had negotiated with them to make a deal.

"Sorry, I'll move along," she said, starting to stand up.

"No stay," said Cedric, and Isobel put her bum back down on the ground, "you've got me curious. If it's not sweets, what did they offer you?"

She might as well tell him the truth, she was already embarrassed. "Quidditch lessons," she answered, "I want to try out for the Ravenclaw team as a chaser."

Cedric's bottom lip rose as he considered it, thinking it was a better trade than just a few sweets. He thought for a bit more, staring out into the air, and then as if to have decided on a plan, he slapped his needs and stood up straight. 

"Well, let's go to the pitch then," he said, extending his hand to her.

"What?" She asked, placing her hand in his so that he could pull her up.

"Hello, Hufflepuff seeker," he said proudly, pointing to his face. "I can teach you way more than the Weasley twins; I've been playing much longer."

Isobel wasn't sure. She hadn't met Cedric before now and didn't know if he was a man of his word. He could've just been doing this as a plan to invite his mates over secretly to laugh at her. However, he was a prefect, and Dumbledore was very particular when choosing his prefects. If Dumbledore trusted him, maybe she could too...

"Oh, I also have somewhat of an in with members of the Ravenclaw team," he smirked knowingly.

She knew he meant Cho Chang. She had seen them in the library together. She was a fellow seeker with half the boys in the school around her finger.

"Well, are you free?" Isobel asked, "I don't want to waste your time."

"Nonsense," he shrugged, "I could do with a fly about tonight, and I'll have a clear conscience knowing that you won't get in trouble for those two; it's a win-win."

And so Isobel ran back to Ravenclaw tower to grab the broom her parents had bought her for her birthday that previous year. She ran back down to the main hall as fast as she could, and she was slightly relieved that Cedric was waiting there for her with his broom because she was worried that he would abandon her at the last minute. The pair of them went to the Quidditch Pitch together and found it empty, and Cedric immediately hopped on his broom and asked Isobel to race a lap with him. She struggled initially but picked it up in no time, almost beating Cedric to the post.

"Right, so you've got speed," he said breathlessly when they were done, "let's test your skill."

He put her through multiple exercises, including throwing balls, catching them, and dodging them from potential beaters. She delightfully failed none of them, though he did accidentally catch her on the head with a Quaffle one time.

"You're lucky that's a Quaffle," he joked as Isobel rubbed her hair, "mind out for the bludgers, they can cause serious injury."

They worked until dinner and met up every night after that, Cedric passing on everything he knew about Quidditch to Isobel's eager ears. He even came to the trials that Saturday to cheer her on. It was a clear, cool day with perfect conditions, and Isobel was one of three hopefuls hoping to get a spot on the team. When it was her turn to step up, she had a rush of confidence and sped through the air, scoring every goal she could get past the Ravenclaw team members who were acting as defence.

"You're Cedric's friend, yes?" Cho Chang asked her when Isobel touched back down on the ground.

Isobel smiled and said yes, and Cho's lips curled fleetingly before her delicate face returned to her unbiased look. "Well done," she told her, "you did good today."

Isobel had to wait a week until she found out the results. On Friday at 4 p.m., the Captains of each House posted their new lineups and the schedule for the season. At 4.01, Isobel was rushing from the Potions class to the Great Hall to see if she had been selected.

"Isobel, wait up!" called Luna Lovegood as she raced from the east wing to join her, "is it now?"

"Yes, it's now," said Isobel as she started shaking with anticipation, "oh god, I failed, didn't I? Those other boys were much older than me. Cho was probably just being nice. I shouldn't even go to check at all-"

"You are checking," said Cedric as he pulled her arm away from leaving and turned her back around to enter the Great Hall. He had waited for her after class. "I put just as much effort into this as you have, and trust me, Cho doesn't lie."

The three of them made their way through the Great Hall amongst the other students. It was amazing being with Cedric. Everyone parted out of the way for him, and they were able to reach the bulletin board with ease. Around forty students were surrounding it, including all the members of the Quidditch teams who were waiting to congratulate their new teammates.

"Ravenclaw, to the left!" Luna said in Isobel's ear, and they pushed further to get to the front.

Isobel almost didn't want to look. She had been wanting this but had never thought of what she would feel if she didn't get in. It was her chance to be a part of a team, socialise, and be accepted. She hadn't had much luck with that at Hogwarts so far.

"Seeker, Cho Chang, Beaters, Jason Samuel and  Duncan Inglebee," she began to read off of the parchment that had been pinned to the board, "Keeper, Grant Page, Chasers, Roger Davies, Jeremy Stretton, and..."

"Isobel Monroe," said Cedric, his smile growing like a Cheshire Cat. "Isobel Bloody Monroe, you did it!"

He punched her playfully on the arm but she didn't feel it, nor the shaking that was coming from Luna gripping her shoulders. She had made it. She had made the team. She had actually achieved something that wasn't just marks on an exam.

"Oh my god," Isobel smiled, "I'm a chaser."

"Sure are," said Cho as she came to her side, "congrats, it's good to have another girl on the team. Our training days are every Tuesday and Thursday."

Isobel had never really gotten to speak to Cho before, as she had always had many friends around her, and she was so stunned at the fact that she was talking to her that there was a pause in her reply.

"S-sounds great, I'll be there," she said with a stutter, "thank you for giving me a chance."

"You proved yourself in the trials, " said Cho, and then she crossed her arms and side-eyed the gawking boy next to her, "and I did have a little birdy in my ear saying that if we didn't put you on the team, then we're idiots - and I am no idiot."

Cho gave Cedric a flirtatious look and then walked away to talk to other members of the Ravenclaw team, leaving him smug that she had indirectly spoken to him. 

"Thank you for putting in a good word," said Isobel as she turned to Cedric, "and thank you for your help this past week. I don't know why you chose to help, but I couldn't have done it without you."

It would be a question that she would never find out the answer to, why he had stopped and helped her that day. He would never get to tell her, and she would always be left questioning his reasoning. 

"No worries. Hey, maybe I could be a professional coach when I leave this place," said Cedric jokingly. He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I'm proud of you. You're talented, and you deserve it."

"Well look what we have here," said Fred Weasley as he and George popped their heads over Cedrics broad shoulders, "little miss Monroe found a way to get more busy, well done you."

He sounded friendly and honest, but she hated that the nickname they had created seemed to have stuck. They weren't her friends; they had proven that when they had abandoned her and failed to keep up their end of the deal, and she didn't feel that he had the right to call her whatever he wanted. 

"Yeah congrats," George added, "we're happy for you, you made it on the team after all."

Before Isobel could accept their congratulations, she was interrupted.

"Yeah, it was without your help though, wasn't it," said Cedric in a bitter tone as he turned to face them both, "you two broke a deal."

Faced with Cedric, their jovial appearance appeared to falter. The twins became smaller, and turned into themselves, their heads no longer held high. At that moment, Isobel discovered a fundamental truth:

The Weasleys were intimidated by Cedric Diggory.

"It wasn't our fault that we got stuck in Hogsmeade," said Fred, like a child defending himself to a disapproving parent. "Something came up."

"Yeah, something very serious," said George, trying his best to hold in a smile. Fred tapped him on his stomach, and his smile disappeared.

"Well, stop making the lower years do your dirty work," Cedric told them, "otherwise, I'll have no choice but to stop looking the other way."

Isobel looked up at Cedric. She was amazed. No one could keep the Weasleys in check like that, or had even tried.

"Noted," said George abruptly, turning to Isobel once more, "well, we'll see you out there sometime then."

"Yeah, I guess that makes us enemies now," Fred added, and he smirked and said, "So hit me with your best shot, Monroe."

Not knowing how the former statement would soon become very true, the twins walked away and Cedric shook his head, almost disbelieving what he had just heard.

"If you play the way I taught you, you'll bring them hell," he said, and he smiled cheekily, "but you do know that from here on out, we're friends off the pitch and competitors on also, don't you?"

Isobel nodded and happily tapped her fist onto his as a symbol of their newfound friendship. "Let the games begin Diggory."

Cedric would be true to his word for the rest of that year, and Quidditch would only be the foundation for their friendship as the weeks went on. They had weekly meet-ups in the library where Cedric would teach her new spells he had learnt, and in return, Isobel worked hard to get him closer to Cho - even going as far as eavesdropping on her conversations in the common room so that he could pick up on things she liked.  The arrangement was simple, but it worked great, even if their peers didn't quite understand it. Cedric made her feel safe and was like a big brother, though he never spoke to her as if he thought she was less than him. She had finally made another friend at Hogwarts, and he always protected her.

For this reason, she would always say that her third year was the happiest she had ever been at Hogwarts, even with the nickname "busy Izzy Monroe" spreading like wildfire (which Cedric never called her). 

And when it came to Quidditch, they kept their promise there too, with them both cheering for each other when the other was playing from the stands. Cedric was the loudest in the stadium when Isobel scored her first-ever goal, and Isobel clapped until her hands hurt when Cedric caught the snitch from Draco Malfoy when he played Slytherin. They only had to play each other once, and they remained professional, but afterwards, they had a big debrief about it over a hot chocolate.

She was finally finding her place in Hogwarts. She liked her team members, started making more friends, and managed to do so while also keeping up her academic record. She was no longer the disappointment of Ravenclaw House but was actually turning out to be quite the opposite. All thanks to Cedric.

However, as the saying unfortunately goes, all good things must come to an end. Ravenclaw house would soon turn on her once again, and tragedy would strike both of them before the next two years were up. Isobel's turn was first, which happened at the last match of that year - the Quidditch Cup match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. It would be a match Isobel would never forget...for the following three reasons:

What happened to her.

What Fred Weasley did.

And how Cedric Diggory reacted.

But that would be a story for another day. A story that was best not remembered at a Wedding.

Chapter Text

"And on my breaks from the team, I use the time to travel. I just returned from South America a few days ago."

"That's so interesting. It seems you've got the perfect life."

It was now the evening reception, and the night's party had kicked off with loud music from a string quartet and dancing, with everyone forgetting their troubles for a moment of fun as champagne continued to flow. Isobel had sat next to Viktor Krum in the seating plan and spent the entire dinner talking to him, as the Lovegoods had been seated elsewhere in the ballroom. He had matured a lot since she had last seen him, and he had a head full of stories that were amazing to listen to. His money had taken him to places Isobel could only dream of.

"Well...I wouldn't call it perfect," Viktor chuckled as he drank another sip of red wine, "it is excellent, but not perfect."

"Why not?" Isobel enquired, her elbow leaning on the table so that she could support her chin with her hand.

"I do all these things but have no one to share them with," he told her. She saw him look toward the dance floor, where most of the younger guests were now—including the happy couple. "Look at them, they're so happy," he continued, "I fear that will never be me."

Isobel was surprised he felt this way, given how the female students at Hogwarts had acted when he arrived for the Triwizard Tournament. "But you're one of the most famous quidditch players in the world," she said, "I'm sure you've loads of girls wanting to date you."

"Eh, no one that really matters," he replied, and Isobel saw his eyes fixate on a spot in particular. She turned and saw that he was looking at Hermione Granger, who was dancing with Ron in a pretty red dress. "They want to date me because I'm famous," Viktor continued, "I'm afraid I need something more than that. I want to feel seen."

Isobel watched them with him, and she tried to see what he saw in Hermione all these years. She must have been quite a girl to get his attention, but Isobel had never seen it.

"Well, my mum always says that there's someone for everyone," Isobel sighed as she saw the lovestruck look in Ron's eyes. "You just haven't found your person yet."

"Your mother is very wise," Viktor replied, "but what about you? Have you found your person yet?"

Isobel almost laughed out loud at his question. "Definitely not," she snorted, "I think I'm going to have to broaden my sights a little out of Hogwarts Castle for that ever to happen."

"Maybe you're right," said Viktor as he looked smugly over his glass, glancing just over her shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt," Charlie Weasley said to Viktor as he approached their chairs from behind. "You wouldn't mind if I stole her away for a minute, would you?"

He grinned down at Isobel, and her heart started beating faster under his almond-shaped eyes.

Viktor immediately shook his head and told him to proceed, but Isobel had questions. "Why, what's happened?" she asked worriedly, thinking something had gone wrong with Fleur again.

"I was just going to ask you to dance," Charlie chuckled, appearing endearingly baffled. "I mean, if that would be alright with you."

Isobel's eyeline quickly moved over to Viktor, who was encouragingly looking at her with approval. He seemed to want her to go, and she liked Charlie, so she took his hand to accept the offer. 

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she said with a small smile.

Charlie led her through the packed tables of merry guests, and they ended up in the middle of the dance floor next to Ginny and Harry Potter, the latter of whom seeming to have only just noticed that Isobel had been invited. Against Harry's wonderous stares that she was dancing with a Weasley, Isobel placed her hand on Charlie's shoulder and another in his hand. Facing her, Charlie pulled her in tighter by the waist, and she felt his warm hand lightly squeeze hers as the band began to play.

"I'm sorry to have taken you away from a superstar," he said as the two began to sway gently across the dancefloor. 

"It's alright, he's an old friend," Isobel replied as she fought against her instincts to lead. 

"So, you're a friend of two Triwizard Champions," Charlie said with a hint of curiosity, "you weren't a groupie of the tournament were you?"

His humour was twisted, just like his brothers, but his charm mellowed out the crude words he spoke. "Make that three Triwizard champions," Isobel replied proudly, for Cedric was still in the back of her mind, "but no, no groupie, they all just ran into my life at different times."

"Well, that's very disappointing," Charlie frowned, "I was imagining you wearing an 'I Heart Viktor Krum' crop top and pom poms."

It did not escape her what the nature of those thoughts might be, and Isobel couldn't help but giggle. "Well, I'm sorry to ruin that image with reality," she smiled.

They kept dancing effortlessly across the wooden floor, Isobel's dress moving fluidly with her as she moved. Luna had always loved adding a bit of flair to her sewing and always had movement in mind. 

"So, how did you learn to dance?" Isobel asked him as he turned her under his arm.

"Family parties mostly, auntie's love me," Charlie replied happily. "They had me up for hours as a kid taking turns. You should've seen the blisters after."

"So you're the favourite?" she asked.

"Unofficially, yes. I wouldn't want to hurt my brother's feelings," he grinned, "I wish I could have attended the Yule Ball though. That sounded like a great party. Is that how you learnt?"

Isobel's smile flinched a little. "No, I, I actually didnt dance a lot that night,” she told him as she looked down at their feet.

"How come?" He asked, appearing actually to care for her answer. It was refreshing.

"I don't like big parties," she answered, "I like my own company."

"But you're here right now."

"This is different, I was forced to by the bride," she said as she rolled her eyes to meet his again bravely, "and I was specifically asked."

"And you weren't asked at the Yule Ball?" Charlie asked, his eyebrow-raising.

He meant had she been asked by a guy, and that wasn't something she wanted to talk about, especially to him. Isobel tried to choose her following words very carefully, ensuring that she didn't give anything away.  

"I was...," she said, "...he just..."

"Was an idiot?" Charlie interrupted.

He had given her an out, and she could not have said it better herself. "Amongst other things, yes."

"Well," said Charlie, his voice going smoother, "I apologise on behalf of the male race. Most of us don't properly form a brain until it's too late."

His frankness made her laugh. "Is that so?" she asked.

"Well, see the proof," he said, nodding his head to gesture to the rest of the crowd. "You are obviously the most interesting girl in the room, and there was not a line of men asking to dance with you. It's clear most men don't have a brain."

Though perhaps just a quick quip, this was one of the nicest things a boy had ever said to her. He had said that he had found her interesting, and it was silly how much she fell attached to him after that sentiment. Viktor was right—it felt good to be seen—and their brief encounters had made her feel that way.

 "Now you're just flattering," said Isobel as she fought not to let her feelings towards him show.

"Maybe", Charlie smiled, "but is it working?"

Their eyes met, and for a glorious second, it felt as though nothing else mattered. He was mature, he was attractive,  and he was witty - all things she had yet to find in a boy who attended Hogwarts. 

"It might be," she teased.

"Hey, Mum needs you out back—says it's an emergency," said George as he intruded on their dance. This had been the first time she had interacted with him tonight, and Isobel stared down at his dark purple silk robes. They looked expensive. 

"Can't you do it?" asked Charlie, who looked visibly annoyed that George had cut in so rudely.

"No, she specifically asked for you," George replied, "she sounds mad, so I wouldn't leave her waiting."

He had not looked at Isobel once and had positioned his body slightly to the back of her. If he was sending a message, she had received it clearly, but she was happy that she didn't have to pretend to be nice to his face.

"Sorry," Charlie apologised to her as he let go of their embrace, "I'll be right back."

"It's okay," Isobel replied. She understood that if Mrs Weasley needed him, he should go. It was obviously necessary.

"Save the next dance for me," he said cheekily before he turned to walk away with George. "I don't want to come back to a queue where I have to fight for my place in line."

Isobel blushed at the absurdity of him thinking that other men would ask her to dance and watched the two brothers walk away and leave the marquee. She was now alone, in the middle of the dance floor, with no friendly faces around her. The brief moment of companionship was over, and she was back to remembering that she was an isolated guest. So what now? 

She looked back to the table where she and Viktor had been sitting, but he was no longer there. Then she looked around for Luna and Xeno, only to find them missing. She was completely alone.

Isobel needed some air. She hadn't been alone this whole afternoon, and the room was getting hot with all the dancing, so she thought this was the time to take advantage of not having any duties to anyone. She remembered that Mrs Weasley had mentioned that she was starting to grow a rose garden near her shed, and those were Isobel's favourite flowers, so she decided to go and look for them before Charlie returned. 

She strolled out into the warm evening air and started making her way towards the Burrow, looking up at the summer's night sky as she did so. There were stars, hundreds of them, almost as if Bill and Fleur had planned for them to overlook their special night. She didn't care that her dress was getting slightly dusty on the floor, she was just happy to be out of the hustle and bustle of the party. She could finally be alone with her thoughts - most of which were concerned with her red-headed dance partner.

Isobel stepped off the ready-made path to get to the flower plot and crossed onto the rougher agricultural flooring. It was uneven, and she wobbled on her heels, but she made it into a game to try and keep her balance. To light her way, there were floating lanterns bobbing around in the air.

"I really don't see what your problem is here."

Isobel stopped mid-step just behind Mr Weasleys shed. It was Charlie's voice coming from the other side, and he appeared frustrated. She quickly looked over her shoulder to ensure it wasn't aimed at her, but he wasn't in sight.

"We literally told you before the wedding Charlie, we warned you and yet you seemed to have made a beeline for her!"

Isobel was surprised to hear that it was Fred's voice speaking back at him, not Mrs Weasley's, so either his mother's errand had been unusually quick to complete or George had lied - which Isobel thought was more likely. She feared that moving further would capture their attention, so she stood still, her heels half sinking into the grass.

"Because I have my autonomy, that's why," Charlie told Fred brashly, "you don't tell me what to do."

"No, it's because you always want what you can't have," Fred retorted. "You've always been this way."

"That's a bit rich coming from you - you started breaking the rules from inside the womb."

"Charlie I'm serious, she's off limits."

Isobel listened in silence. Unless Charlie had danced and spoken to many girls that evening who Fred equally disliked, they were talking about her.

"Off limits?" Charlie laughed, "look, are either of you in love with her or something because you two seem to be the only people with a problem."

Fred grunted as if the words made him feel physical pain. "Love her? I think we'd rather be suffocated by a Dragon's arse than feel anything towards Isobel 'busy-izzy' Monroe."

So there it was. Confirmation. Fred was purposely trying to pull Charlie away from her for no other reason except pure spite. He couldn't handle the fact that they had gotten on.

"Well, I can arrange that for you if you like," Charlie said sarcastically, "and I know just the Dragon I'd use."

She heard Fred step forward. 

"Don't touch her. Anyone, I'm begging you, anyone else you can have. Not her. She's dangerous."

"And what evidence do you have of this?" Charlie asked loudly, not afraid to be heard, "If you're going to forbid me of something and rob me of a good night, then you better have a damn good reason."

"Just trust me," Fred replied, "she's hellbent on hating our family and has obviously latched onto you because you're the only one that doesn't know her. If you keep going the way you are tonight, she'll probably end up trying to stab you in your sleep."

"Well, that sounds excitingly sexy."

"Charlie."

"No, I'm not leaving the most fascinating girl at this party Fred just because you have some school kid rivalry, and you have no evidence that she's ever actually done anything bad. She helped save this wedding today for god sake; that doesn't sound like someone who's hell-bent on hating our family."

Isobel smiled to herself. Charlie was sticking up for her and Fred was bound to hate that.

"Fine."

It went quiet as Fred stepped towards Charlie and dropped his voice to a fine whisper. Isobel could barely hear what he was saying and couldn't make out any clear words. All she knew was that he spoke for quite a long time.

"What?" said Charlie, disheartened when Fred had finished talking, "but she doesn't seem like the type."

"Yeah, well, even angels can be devils in disguise," Fred replied darkly.

Isobel's eyes narrowed as she sensed a change in the atomosphere. Charlie wasn't fighting Fred anymore; he believed him. She wondered what Fred could've said to have made him switch it up this fast.

"Wow, okay then," Charlie said deeply, now much quieter and reserved than before. "Fine then, for the good of the family, I'll stay away."

"Thank you," Fred replied, "and if you're still looking for a bit of fun I was speaking to some of Fleur's cousins earlier, you'd have a good chance there."

Footsteps brushed against the mud floor, and Isobel held her breath as Charlie walked around to her side. He had a crushed face which resembled a kicked puppy.

"Hey-"

Isobel's left shoulder was pushed back as he brushed right past her, not saying one word and barely recognising her presence. Isobel looked after him in confusion, not believing how he could've treated her that way after one conversation, and from the back of his head she could almost see his brain changing his opinion on her in real time. 

That was it. Fred had to have told him something. Something terrible. All lies too knowing him. 

She had to figure out what he had told Charlie. It wasn't his right.

She stormed around the shed and found Fred still there, looking tired and leaning against its walls with his leg. He too, like George, was dressed in all silk - except his was navy blue. If this had been an old movie, she imagined he would've been smoking a victory cigarette.

"What did you say to him?" Isobel asked furiously as she walked up.

"Say to who?" Fred replied, his face scrunched up like she had brought a bad smell to him.

"Your brother," she said, "he just totally blanked me."

"Did it not occur to you that he may have just developed taste?" he responded sarcastically, kicking off the wall to start walking back to the wedding.

Isobel chased after him, trying to keep up. "You told him lies about me, didn't you?" she accused him. "You saw me being happy and just had to ruin it."

"Happy?" Fred scoffed over his shoulder, "Merlin's Beard Monroe, do you really think your happiness levels even register with me?"

It was hard as her mud covered heels were slowing her down, but she managed to get in front of him and stopped, blocking him from moving any further. "What did you say?" she interrogated sternly, pointing a finger toward his chest.

Not missing a chance to brag and noticing her fury, Fred slouched back into himself and smirked. "I told him the truth," he shrugged, "I thought it best he knew who you really are."

"How could you say anything," she snapped, "you barely know anything about me."

"I know what you've done," he told her, "I told him what you did during my last year."

Many things had happened that year, but Isobel knew Fred would only focus on the one that made her look bad—the one thing she had ever regretted—and the one story that made him look like a saint.

"How dare you! That was a mistake," Isobel hissed quietly so no one would hear. "I corrected that."

"Did you?" Fred asked, bending his head down so that he was almost level with her, "because I don't remember receiving an apology."

"That's because you didn't deserve one."

"Didn't deserve one?" Fred laughed, his wide eyes portraying the real anger he was feeling underneath his cool persona, "After what you did?"

"Did I ever receive an apology for the hurt you caused me?" Isobel retaliated indignantly. She was disgusted that he thought he was the one who deserved an apology first.

Fred looked genuinely confused, which made her even more mad that he didn't remember. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, "don't try to deflect it-"

Bang.

There was a loud popping noise from the marquee as a giant ball of light tore through the ceiling and placed itself in the middle of the dance floor. Every guest turned to it in awe, even those outside. Isobel and Fred paused their argument and stood to look at it in silence.

"The Ministry...has fallen..." boomed the voice of Kingsley Shaklebolt from the light, who Isobel had seen was noticeably missing from the party.

"...the Minister is dead..."

Isobel's mouth parted in shock at this news. The Minister of Magic was due to give a speech tonight on protecting the muggleborns. This wasn't a natural death; she knew it was murder.

"...they are coming...they are coming...they are coming..."

His words repeated over and over again until the ball of light diminished into nothing. There was a second of total noiselessness, and then the entire wedding turned into panic. From the outside, Fred and Isobel looked up to the sky and saw a wave of familiar black smoke hurtling towards them.

"Death Eaters," Isobel spoke.

"Shit." 

They both began running as fast as they could towards the chaos and managed to make it to the marquee just in time for the Death Eaters to arrive. It was a free-for-all, with the dark wizards immediately firing spells at any guest in their eyeline.

"Luna!" Isobel shouted as she tried to weave through the crowd, "where are you?!"

She couldn't see her, and it was hard to see anyone at all. Most guests were close to the Order or very powerful, so very few were leaving and most were staying to fight. This meant that there was a lot of violence in a minimal space, and people were getting trampled on and hit accidentally.

"Oi, back off my sister alright!" shouted Charlie Weasley to the left of her, and Isobel turned to see that he was fighting a wizard who had knocked Ginny to the floor. Isobel immediately withdrew her wand from the inside of her dress.

"Flippendo!" she cursed directly at the wizard.

An array of golden sparks flew out of the tip of her wand and sent him flying back with force. She had always been particularly powerful with that one, and she was glad that the fact still remained under pressure.

"Thank...you," Charlie stuttered as he turned around and saw that it was her who had helped.

"Don't listen to your brother," Isobel huffed, and then she leant down to Ginny to help her up. "Have you seen Luna?"

"No, the last thing I saw was that she was over by the drinks table with Harry," Ginny replied as she smoothed down her hair.

Fantastic, Isobel thought to herself. There were Death Eaters everywhere, and Luna had been with the poster boy for the revolution.

"Thanks," she said, and she left them to push her way through the crowd once more. She briefly passed Bill who was fighting alongside Fleur, and then she yelped when she got swallowed up by the dress of the very tall Madame Maxine. She had barely gotten the layers of clothing off her face when she came face to face with Mr Weasley.

"Oh, Isobel," he exasperated as he clung to her shoulders, "good, you're safe. Head over to Tonks, she's just over there - she'll take you all away from this."

He pointed to his left where the ice sculpture had once been before being smashed to smithereens. 

"Is Luna there?" Isobel asked him.

"I think so," he said, but Isobel didn't think he seemed sure, "now go...expelliarmus!"

A wand came flying past Isobel's head into Mrs Weasleys free hand and she guessed it had come from an unknown Death Eater behind. She took this as a sign not to dawdle around, and stepped past Mr Weasley to look for Tonks in the crowd. Eventually, in the short distance, she could see a mane of flaming pink hair hurrying people out of the marquee. Isobel ran towards it, narrowly avoiding curses and defensive spells, and a few seconds later, she reached the edge safely.

"Oh, Isobel, great. Come on. We're just about to leave," said Tonks as she approached the group. "We had this planned just in case."

Tonks pulled a purple crystal out from her pocket and placed it in her palm. "I'll count to three, and everyone will put their hands on it. It's a portkey, it'll take us to the safe house."

Isobel looked around the group that was there. Tonks had obviously been told to take the young ones to safety but there were only the younger Weasleys there, and there were four very obvious guests missing.

"But not everyone's here yet," said Isobel in a panic, "we need to help them."

"Harry, Ron and Hermione have already left," Ginny replied to her, "I saw them apparate."

"Then what about Luna?" Isobel asked, "I need to get her."

"She'll be fine, half the ministry's in there," said George more dismissively than Isobel cared for.

"That's what I'm worried about," Isobel snapped. She was not naive enough to believe that all ministry workers were good, or that none of them were double agents.

"I'm sorry dear but we don't have time," said Tonks sadly and she held the crystal out for everyone to touch. "Okay, 1..2.."

"I'm not leaving without-"

"3!"

Isobel's hand was forcibly slammed on the crystal, and she, along with Tonks, Ginny, Fred, and George, was transported through a rush of whirling air, leaving the party behind...and leaving everyone else still there to fight.

Chapter Text

Tonks took them to a little white cottage off the coast of Cornwall, where there were no neighbouring houses because it was on top of a high cliff. There was no light, the night sky covering them in darkness, and the sound of crickets danced around them from the floor of the poorly kept garden. All Isobel could feel was the cool, salty wind on her face as she looked up at the isolated house. They were in the middle of nowhere, and she felt uneasy in her new surroundings.

"Follow me," said Tonks as she walked up the patio stairs, her wand dimly lit, "try and be quiet."

Accompanied by the smooth sound of the ocean below them, they all followed her closely, entering through the small wooden door one by one. The inside of the cottage looked as though it had yet to be remodelled since the early 60's. There was floral wallpaper on the walls, and velvet furniture lay in a three-piece living room, the dark mahogany furniture either scratched or stained by the many years of use. It was lived in but not particularly cared for.

"What is this place?" Isobel asked as George closed the door behind them.

"Shell Cottage, our Aunt owned it before she died," Ginny answered, pulling the chord on an old table light to fill the room with a soft yellow glow. "Mum and Dad used to take us here as kids."

"Yeah, I can still smell the dentures," Fred said as he hopped into the big armchair.

"Don't break anything," Tonks told them all. "Your parents have given this place to Bill and Fleur as their first home—they'll be moving in as soon as everything is sorted out."

"Can't wait to see Fleur's face," Fred whispered to George, "I think she might have a heart attack."

Isobel could feel them all settling in, but she didn't want to do the same. Someone had forced her hand down onto the portkey, and she wanted to know who it was. She hadn't wanted to leave without Luna, and now, because of them, she could only wait here whilst she had no clue how her best friend was.

"How long are we here for?" she asked Tonks.

"Stop asking questions and just relax," said George, sitting beside Ginny on the sofa. "I'm sure you can go a couple of hours without knowing absolutely everything."

"A few hours?!" Isobel exclaimed as her eyes widened. She really couldn't wait that long. "I'm not being here for hours while my best friend battles Death Eaters!"

"So you'd rather die?" Fred asked. His tone suggested that she was being ridiculous.

"Than be here with you?" she retorted, "absolutely."

"Why don't you come with me?" Tonks smiled as she put her arm around Isobel's shoulder. "You can help me find some snacks in this place; I'm starving."

Though with some persuasion, Tonks gently pulled Isobel away from the living room and took her to the kitchen. This room was in just as bad condition as the rest of the house - the plumbing had seen better days, the paint was peeling off the walls, and Isobel thought she saw some hinges missing from the cupboard doors. All she could think about when Tonks started her search was whether Luna and Xeno were okay. They had left chaos behind them, and as much as she hated it, George was right...she hated not knowing everything that was happening.

"Crap," said Tonks as the third cupboard door she had opened revealed nothing, "not a packet of crips in sight."

This was Isobel's first time with Tonks without anyone else present and she didn't know how to approach her, except for the fact that she was Professor Lupin's wife. She did appreciate her outfit though, which was a suit seemingly inspired by the steampunk era.

"How long are we going to be here?" Isobel repeated in the hope of an answer this time.

"It shouldn't be long," Tonks replied cheerfully as she searched the shelves. "A member of the Order is going to apparate to us as soon as all danger is cleared."

"And do you think that will be soon?" Isobel questioned as a follow-up.

Tonks stopped rummaging and turned to her, leaning her back against the sink. "I know how worried you are," she told her kindly, "but don't worry. Everyone there was a great wizard. I'm sure Luna is perfectly okay."

Isobel had developed a bad stomach pain, and Tonk's words did little to comfort her. Her gut had a way of telling her that something wasn't right, and it hardly ever failed her.

"What if she's not?" Isobel asked, "I have a really bad feeling."

She mustn't have been hiding her feelings well as Tonks pouted and walked over to her, hugging her softly and squashing her dress. Isobel was a bit shocked at her sudden affection, but Luna had warned her that being overly friendly was a trait of hers.

"You're just experiencing it for the first time," Tonks told her in her ear, "we all go through it."

"Go through what?" Isobel asked, not knowing what she would have in common with the Order.

Tonks pulled away but left her hands on her arms. "Leaving a loved one behind. We in the Order have all had to do it occasionally, and unfortunately, it's now being forced on you young ones, too. Those in there are used to it by now."

She gestured to the living room where the twins and Ginny were sitting. They had already found a pack of cards, and Ginny was dealing them out. They didn't appear to be worried at all.

"I don't see how you could ever get used to it," Isobel said quietly, hoping Tonks wouldn't pick up on her bitterness toward none of them showing emotion. "Not knowing if the people you care about are safe."

Tonks exhaled as if she was at a loss for words. However, as Isobel would come to learn, Tonks was never out of words.

"It involves a heck of a lot of faith," she sighed. "Believe me, I didn't want to leave Remus, but I had to make sure you lot were safe, it's the job."

It didn't appear to be a good life, constantly worrying about your partner coming home alive. But they had picked it, and she wasn't going to question their life choices.

"I'm glad it's not going to be my job," Isobel replied. "I couldn't live like that."

"Well, you never know," said Tonks, "your feisty, you know your spells, you wanted to stick around and fight - you could be an Auror one day."

Isobel didn't see dark wizards in her future, especially risking her life everyday to capture them. This summer had been enough danger for a lifetime and she never wanted a repeat of it.

"No, I want to be a legislator," Isobel told her.

Tonks's eyebrows raised at this, and she stepped back, hopping onto the kitchen counter to hear more. "Oh, you want to go into law?"

Tonks's interest in her was a pleasant surprise. Whenever she mentioned her job path to anyone, no one ever wanted to know about it. Even Xeno tried to warn her of it; he didn't entirely respect the Ministry and thought lawmakers were stuffy-nosed twits. "I think it's where I can make the most difference," said Isobel. "So many people out there need their voices heard."

After her third year, when she heard the rumours that Sirius Black had been falsely imprisoned all these years and that her favourite teacher had to leave Hogwarts because he was a werewolf, Isobel became intensely interested in wizarding law. She didn't care for injustice, and the wizarding world was rife with it. The years that followed had only fanned that flame, and Isobel had studied hard so she could one day sit in the chambers making real change.

"I understand," said Tonks, a wry smile telling Isobel that she really did. "The wizarding laws are better than they used to be, but they can still be incredibly polarizing. Take that from a werewolf's wife."

Wizarding law had never been kind to werewolves. You didn't need to have read hundreds of books to know that.   They were not to be seen and not to be heard, they couldn't hold down a job, and almost all of the wizarding world was scared of them. Isobel hadn't appreciated at the time how brave Tonks was for marrying Lupin, but at that moment, she saw how strong she was. She loved him, no matter how poor or outcasted they would be based on his condition.

"It's not fair," Isobel said, "the way Professor Lupin is treated. That would be one of the first laws I would fight to change if I got into the Ministry, and I swear by that."

Tonks's smile grew happier, but her eyes became distantly further away. "Then you have my full support," she said. "They need someone like you to fight against their stale, old, backward heads."

Isobel sensed that Tonks didn't want to talk about it anymore, as she was already worried about Lupin enough as it was. So, Isobel pivoted the subject to something that had been nagging at the back of her mind since she heard that the Minister was dead.

"Do you know who did it?" Isobel asked curiously, "Who murdered the Minister?"

Tonks was an auror, she had to atleast know something.

"You do ask a lot of questions, don't you," said Tonks dubiously, but just as Isobel regretted asking, she smirked. "But yes, unfortunately, I can think of quite a few people. He wasn't popular amongst certain people, the Minister, especially to people with certain views on wizarding life."

"Like pure blood idealists?" Isobel suggested. This had been her guess.

"Exactly," Tonks confirmed. "They're rampant in the ministry, and their numbers are only growing as the days go on. I doubt any of us are going to be safe there anymore. They're going to have spies."

"Who's going to replace him?" Isobel asked. She didn't care how many questions she was asking now. The situation called for it and she didn't know when she would next be able to talk to people with inside knowledge.

Tonks's eyes glazed over as her thoughts turned dark. "Probably someone very...bad."

"Someone who hates muggleborns?" Isobel prompted.

Tonks only had to look at her to know the answer. It didn't take a genius to see where this was heading, but Isobel hoped that at least those left in the Ministry would see it as an easy fight.

"Look, no one knows the future," Tonks advised her, "but you're a smart girl. You know it's going to get worse before it gets better. The best thing I can tell you to do is to be prepared."

Isobel understood. She was always prepared. Before any test, she would study as much as she could. But this was not a test—and that worried her—she didn't know how to be prepared for it.

Isobel talked to Tonks some more about the evening before retreating to the back window, where she could stand and be on her own. Tonks played cards with the Weasleys, laughter emitting from that room every minute, but all she could do was stare out at the darkness covering the miles of nothingness surrounding them. She felt hopeless, her thoughts consumed with every terrible thing that could have been happening. She prayed that someone from the Order would visit them soon, but as the hours whirled away, help never came.

That was until 1.30 am on the dot.

A whoosh sound came from the doorstep and Tonks ran straight to the door. Everyone else froze in their spots and drew out their wands, Isobel watching as she peered through the translucent curtain that covered the small window. Either this was the member of the Order Tonks had talked about, or the Death Eaters had already found them. Tonks took one look, breathed a sigh of relief, and flung the door open with strength.

"Remus!" she said happily, hugging the lean man standing before her.

Remus looked excessively worn out. His suit was covered in dust, and his tie had wrung loose, revealing two neck cuts that appeared recently fresh. He was a man home from battle, and his wife was supportively holding him upright through a hug.

"How are the kids?" Remus asked her.

"They're fine," she said as she welcomed him in, "look!"

Fred, George and Ginny got up from their seats to greet him and Isobel slowly started walking towards them from the kitchen. They all wanted to hear the news of what had gone down.

"They're gone," Remus told them all, "I can take you home now."

The questions immediately began pouring out.

"How is everyone?" asked George.

"How's Luna?" Isobel added.

"How's mum?" asked Fred.

"Have you heard from Harry?" Ginny questioned from the corner. Her skin was now so pale it almost perfectly matched her cream bridesmaids dress.

"You are all safe," said Remus wearily, holding his hands up to stop their questions, "that is what's important right now. Let's get you all home, shall we?"

Remus Lupin had never been the type to lie, but he was an old hand at keeping secrets, and this was never more evident than now. Isobel noticed his particular choice of words and became suspicious about why he had only focused on them rather than answering anyone directly.

Fred and George followed Tonks and Remus into the garden, but Isobel and Ginny stayed behind. The pain in her stomach had not gone away the whole time she had been at the cottage, and it had suddenly become much heavier.

"Did you notice that?" Ginny asked as she watched Remus set up the Portkey outside. "He didn't say if any of them were okay."

Isobel was glad that Ginny had picked that up, as it reaffirmed her thoughts. "He's hiding something," Isobel told her gloomily in agreement, "I think something bad has happened."

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

When Isobel's feet touched the ground of the Burrow, she emerged in a scene of devastation and smoke. All the crops surrounding the house had been burnt or ripped out from their roots, and pieces of plastic from the torn-apart marquee were scattered all over the ground. Tables were knocked over, chairs had legs missing, and a patch of fire was still burning on a violin where the player had once been. It did not resemble the beautiful wedding that had existed only hours ago.

They treaded carefully amongst the rubble and walked up to the front door, Remus turning the handle and opening it to silence. Isobel, at the back of the group, checked over her shoulder to ensure they were alone before entering over the threshold. The Weasley family and members of the Order sat inside waiting for them, and they all breathed a sigh of relief at their arrival.

"Oh boys, Ginny!" cried Mrs Weasley as she ran to meet her children. "Oh, we were worried sick!"

"You know we'd be alright mum, we were more worried about you," Ginny struggled to say from the tightness of her mothers grip.

"Isobel," said Fleur as she got up and approached her, "I'm so glad you got away safely."

Isobel glanced down at Fleur's dress, and her heart ached. It was covered in holes once more and was singed at the tips. She had been a warrior, but it had come with consequences.

"Your dress..." said Isobel, "I can fix it..."

"No need," Fleur replied, shaking her head with a solemn smile. "We are alive, that's what matters. A dress is just a dress."

"Besides, you should see the other guys," said Bill, whose hair was tucked into a bun and had a cut lip as a trophy, "bruises and scars the lot of them, they started the fire just so they could get away from us."

His energy was uplifting in this dampened atmosphere. He was the only one acting like they had achieved a victory. 

"What were they doing here?" Isobel asked him.

"Doing what they do best, causing utter destruction," growled Moody from the back of the room. "They came here for anyone they could put their hands on, whether it be us, Potter, or anybody who knew him."

This was when Isobel felt quite a few eyes shift from Moody to her, the atmosphere changing from saddened to nervous. Unlike Lupin, Moody wasn't known for keeping secrets - but instead known for being a straight shooter of the truth. Isobel felt a sudden urge to count the heads in the room.

"Where's Luna?" she asked, not seeing her face, "did she go home with Xeno already?"

Everyone who had not travelled to the cottage looked at one another and avoided her eyeline. The pain that had been gnawing at her stomach churned into an ache as she quickly matched what Moody had said with why they had all looked at her. It was only him who was looking at her straight in the eye.

"Oh, lovely," said Mrs Weasley, who had taken charge of the situation as a mother. "I think you better sit down."

She placed her hand on Isobel's arm, but she flinched it away, the feeling being like an electric shock.

"What's happened?" Isobel asked, her heartbeat quickening with each passing second. "Where's Luna?"

"I'm sorry, Isobel...they took her," Mr Weasley intervened, taking the heat off his wife and standing by her side. "Both her and Xeno. That's why we wanted all of you young ones out of the way. They know you're close to Harry, so you were at risk. Xeno tried to stop them from taking Luna, and, well-"

Isobel didn't hear the rest of what Mr Weasley had to say because her ears could no longer listen. All sound was blocked as she began to feel lightheaded, and the people in front of her turned into fuzzy, moving colours. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Not Luna. Not her Luna. She could feel the overwhelming shock filling her body in rapid waves. Death Eaters had taken them, and she hadn't done anything to stop it.

"Oh my god, Bill, catch her," said Fleur as Isobel stumbled forward. He managed to do so just before she fell over her ankles, and Charlie quickly walked over from the other side of the room to help him carry her to a footstool by the fireplace. She felt like she was going to throw up, and it was hard catching her breath, gasps replacing what should have been inhaled air.

"Well, I see where Ron gets his effect on women from," said Fred sarcastically. "Well done Dad, great delivery."

"Oh shut up Fred," Mr Weasley whispered, "she had to know."

"Yeah, but you could have softened the blow for god's sake," said Charlie with a concerned expression on his face. He then placed his hand in front of Isobel's eyes and held it there, saying, "Just focus on my hand, okay?"

"Yeah, I don't think she needs an eye test right now alright," said George as Isobel nodded to Charlie in acknowledgement.

"It's a calming technique. It gets her to focus on one thing and makes her vision get back to normal," Charlie replied knowledgeably. "I have to do this all the time with the Dragon trainees. They see one breath of real fire, and they all start fainting on the floor."

Isobel wanted to rip her dress right off of herself, it felt like it was clinging to her body like a mummy's bandages. Charlie's hand was making her vision better, and she could slightly hear them all now, but her body was now full-on shaking with rage as she processed what had happened. It didn't help that they had sat her by the fire either. She was feeling burning all over.

"I could've helped them," Isobel whispered woefully, "I wasn't at risk. I wasn't Harry's friend. I could've helped them."

"Don't blame yourself," said Charlie, who was happy that she had spoken, "you couldn't have done anything to stop it."

These words were all she needed to regain full consciousness.

"I don't blame myself," Isobel snapped at him, "I blame whoever put my fucking hand down on the portkey. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay and find her! I could have prevented this!"

"Merlins beard Monroe, you're a muggle-born," said Fred dismissively, his arms crossed as if he was completely over her reaction, "they would've had you dead in three seconds. You wouldn't have prevented shit."

Something about how he had said that so confidently piqued Isobel's attention, and suddenly, everything made sense.

"You!" Isobel shouted at Fred, her body still shaking with rage. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Everyone in the room looked at Fred to see his response. It wasn't clear whether or not they were on his side, but the way Isobel was looking, no one wanted to intervene either.

 "We needed to go and you were slowing us down alright," Fred responded to her brashly, "we weren't going to die just because you couldn't make up your mind!"

Of course it was him. It was always him.

Isobel launched herself off the stool, knocking it back onto to the floor, and ran to Fred. She pushed him against the wall and drew out her wand, pointing it deeply into his neck. 

"You little shit-"

"Isobel, don't," said Bill as he and Charlie attempted to restrain her, "he didn't do anything wrong!"

"He took away my free will!" said Isobel as she fought against them, "you call that nothing wrong?!"

"You're a total nutter," said Fred as he looked down her wand at her and stood his ground, "what are you going to do, curse me?"

"Oh I'm going to do more than just curse you," Isobel smirked, "you don't know how long I've been waiting to do this to you, I just needed an excuse. You're nothing but a selfish, brainless a-"

"Okay enough," said Mr Weasley as he stood between the pair, "Isobel I know you're angry but put your wand down, no one else has to get hurt tonight."

Isobel held up her wand for a few more seconds before the adrenaline wore off, her arm collapsing into Bill's hand. He wasn't worth it, he wasn't worth her anger, and it wouldn't do anything constructive. Besides, Luna wouldn't have wanted her to hurt him in her name.

"Did any of you even attempt to help?" Isobel demanded to know of the room.

The room fell quiet. It was only the second time in her life that she felt an entire group of people be scared of her, and she could almost smell the guilt pouring off of them.

"We were all so distracted; there were a hundred of them," Remus spoke out eventually, "we were heavily outnumbered."

"I thought you were the Order of the Phoenix, you protect your own!" Isobel shouted at him.

"We are," said Remus, trying to calm her down, "and as soon as we got Harry to safety-"

"Oh, Harry Potter!" Isobel said aloud, chuckling in frustration as it all dawned on her, "I should've known... it doesn't matter who gets sacrificed as long as the chosen one bloody survives!"

"Isobel, please," said Fleur quietly as she sensed her getting more angry, "come with me, I'll get you some tea."

"I don't need tea!" Isobel replied, "we can't just fix these things with tea, my best friend and her dad have been kidnapped by Death Eaters! And every single one of you let it happen!"

The anger was now reaching the next stage, and Isobel could feel water welling in her eyes. She tried to compress it, maintaining appearances for as long as she could, but she knew it wouldn't be for long.

"We will work out a plan to get them back; we just need to plan one meticulously," Moody told her.

"No," Isobel refused, shaking her head vigorously, "I don't trust you, I don't trust any of you - you were all there, you all could've done something!"

"We will get them back," said Tonks reassuringly, and she stepped forward to rub her back, "and in the meantime, we will protect you. You'll be safe here with us, you can stay here at the Burrow."

"Protect me?" Isobel laughed. She could no longer contain it. The tears were coming, and she had to leave right now. She refused to cry in front of these people. "Just like you protected Luna and Xeno right? Or were they just less important to you all?"

She swallowed saliva into her dry throat, trying not to let her voice crack. She was fully grieving now, and she needed to be alone. She didn't want to do something that she would regret come the morning.

"I am telling you now," she told the room as a single tear started streaming down her face, "I've already lost one friend because of Harry Potter and I'm not fucking losing another one. I will do anything to make sure they come home, and if you try and stop me, if any of you interfere - I will not think twice about turning you all in for their exchange. I will feel no guilt at all."

Not being able to hold it in any longer, Isobel stormed out of the Burrow and ran, stopping just halfway through the burned rubble before collapsing to her knees. She sobbed into her dress for what felt like forever, silently crying as her own guilt poured out through the tears. The thoughts of what-ifs swarmed her mind and gave her a reason to keep going, a never-ending circle that left her in a pile of damp mud.

This couldn't be real. She had surely fallen asleep at the cottage and fallen into a nightmare. It couldn't be that Luna, her best friend, and Xeno, her second father, had been stolen from her right from under her nose. If only she could have gotten to them sooner, if only she had taken a different path across the ballroom...

...if only she hadn't been fighting with Fred Weasley when the Death Eaters had arrived.

Chapter Text

Knock. Knock.

"And now for the top story of the day. All Ministry of Magic employees will be investigated for their Wizarding blood lineage before they can resume their posts. Once these investigations are completed, work will begin on a national inquiry."

Knock. Knock.

"Our new Minister, Thicknesse, supports these investigations, saying in a statement this morning that the results will help separate the weeds plaguing our community."

Knock. Knock.

"Isobel, can I come in?" 

Isobel turned the radio up louder to drown out the sound of the knocking.

"In similar news, the Ministry-employed snatchers have, from today, been given the right to arrest anyone suspected of evading or plotting against the Ministry. The magical community has been advised to cooperate with them as much as possible to avoid altercations- especially muggle-borns."

"Isobel, I am not leaving, dear! I'm giving you to the count of three, and then I'm coming in."

Isobel tried to reach for her wand, but she was too late. In the time it took her to get to the bedside table, Mrs Weasley had unlocked the door and entered the tiny bedroom. Mothers never waited.

"Dinner," she said, carrying a tray with tomato soup and a single bread roll. Her yellow apron was covered in red stains.

"I'm not hungry," said Isobel as she switched off the radio and sat back on the bed, crossed-legged.

"Yes, and I've respected that to a point," Mrs Weasley huffed, "but you also haven't eaten all day - I can't let you starve."

She put the tray down next to Isobel, and the smell hit her nostrils. It wasn't just tomato, she smelt basil and red pepper too. It smelt homely, and her tummy rumbled at the sight of it.

 "Thanks," she said sheepishly, pulling the tray closer. 

Isobel had cried so hard last night that she became too weak to walk or even move. She lay there in the mud until she couldn't shed any more tears and fell asleep out of exhaustion. When Isobel woke up the following day, she was inside the Burrow in Ginny's bedroom wearing white cotton pyjamas with the door locked. Mr and Weasley had visited her numerous times to ask if she was hungry, and the answer was always the same. No, she wasn't, and she didn't want to see anyone.

"You can always come down and sit with us if you like," said Mrs Weasley kindly. "It would be better than listening to all that depressing news all the time."

Isobel shook her head. She was barely getting her hunger back, and eating in front of people she had shouted at last night was enough not to make her eat a single bite. It was embarrassing, and now that she had calmed down, she had regretted it. 

"I think I'll just stay up here," she said quietly, "it's what's best. You locked me up here for a reason, right?"

Mrs Weasley sat at the end of Ginny's bed, causing the soup to spill slightly over the bowl as the mattress rose.

"After what you said last night, we were worried about you," she told Isobel. "We thought it best you stayed here in case you did anything...reckless."

There was something about Mrs Weasley that Isobel couldn't be mean to. Though she had lots of pent-up anger, she knew it would be unfair to take any of it out on her.

"I'm going to find them," said Isobel, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you can't stop me."

Mrs Weasley gave her a sorrowful look that Isobel had seen Xeno give to Luna many times and that she had been on the receiving end of from her parents. It was the look of parenting—the look of 'no'.

"We all feel guilty about what happened last night," she said, "and I promise the Order will do everything they can. But we can't let you go out there. It's too dangerous. We owe it to the Lovegoods to keep you safe."

"You owe it to the Lovegoods to bring them home," Isobel argued, "let me help, I could be a good asset."

Every minute that went by was another minute that they were in danger, and she hadn't been able to leave. It was incredibly frustrating. 

"Look. I know what you're going through," said Mrs Weasley, "You aren't the only one whose loved ones are missing right now. But we can't put ourselves in danger to help them. That doesn't help anyone. We all have our roles."

She wasn't entirely convinced by what she was saying, and Isobel knew why. In all the high emotions, Isobel had forgotten that it wasn't only her friend who had gone missing last night. Others in the house were also grieving loved ones.

"Do you still not know where Ron is?" Isobel asked her in a softer tone than before.

"No," Mrs Weasley replied, avoiding eye contact. "All posts are being intercepted, so they won't be able to communicate with us without getting caught."

She was a mother in pain, and Isobel couldn't imagine how scared she must have been. The two sat in silence as Isobel analysed her, noticing the small cracks in her face as she tried not to break. It was the same strength Tonks had shown at Shell Cottage—and it made her envious that she couldn't hide her feelings like that. 

"He'll be alright," she told her, remembering the one thing she knew was true, "if there's something I know about those three, it's that they always come out on top." 

Mrs Weasley's lips curled up into a small smile as if that had comforted her. "They do, don't they," she chuckled sadly.

"Honestly, it's crazy. No matter who they fight, they always win," said Isobel, forcing a smile to pretend to be happy. "I'm telling you now. Hermione has already taken charge and found them a safe hiding place."

She had no idea if this was true, but she wanted to make Mrs Weasley smile. She had been kind to her, and she wanted to help soothe her pain even though she couldn't heal her own. 

"I just worry so much..." Mrs Weasley sighed, "I worry about all of them, even those who aren't my kids. None of you deserve to be put in this situation."

Isobel stared down at the ground. She agreed with her—they were only kids and didn't deserve to go through this. But Isobel knew the stories of History, and so many children had suffered much worse in the years gone by.

"We don't," she said, "but here we are, we just need to keep fighting so the next generation doesn't have to."

Mrs Weasley could see that she was putting on a brave face for her and that her stare had gone elsewhere. She placed her hand on Isobels and squeezed it.

"You're a smart girl, Isobel, but you can't help them alone," she told her. "There are too many bad wizards out there."

Isobel took in the sounds of the Burrow. Footsteps were heard everywhere, from above them to the floor below, not one crevice of the house left unoccupied. It was hard to feel alone here.

"I know," she said, "but I feel hopeless sitting here whilst she's out there suffering."

"Well, I know it's not any comfort, but she's a pureblood—they won't spill blood that they think is sacred," Mrs Weasley told her. 

She was right; it wasn't comforting.

"But she's Harry's friend," Isobel reasoned, "they're not going to let her off easy."

Whether it was torturing her for information or simply hurting her because they couldn't hurt Harry, Isobel knew that Luna wouldn't be unharmed. As for Xeno, he had written multiple statements against the Dark side in the Quibbler - meaning they had a legitimate reason to see him as a threat to their way of life.

"The Order will find her," Mrs Weasley insisted, her small opal-shaped eyes slanting at the sides in compassion.

"I can find her," said Isobel with equal insistence. "I don't know what it is, but ever since yesterday, I feel a stronger connection to her. I feel like she's trying to reach out to me to tell me where she is. She wants me to find her."

Mrs Weasley nodded as if she believed Isobel was telling the truth. "It's your connection," she said, "I feel the same thing with Ron. When it's someone you love, you get this kind of sixth sense."

"But you trust Ron to go out alone. Why not me?" Isobel asked earnestly.

"Because you were never meant to get involved with this..." said Mrs Weasley, guilt plastered all over her face. "I cannot in good conscience let another child risk their life for something we adults should have protected you from."

Isobel thought Mrs Weasley was wrong. Despite her outburst last night, she didn't think the Order could have done anything to stop what had happened. It was just words of anger. The Dark side was too strong, and the rest still had enough morals not to beat them at their game. It wasn't a fair fight, which was the core of Isobel's frustration.

"You've heard the radio. Soon there will be nothing people like me are protected from," Isobel said, trying to make Mrs Weasley feel less guilty. 

Mrs Weasley gave her the one look that made her uncomfortable - pity. "You will be at Hogwarts soon, you just have to wait a few more days," she said.

She didn't have a few more days. In a few more days Luna and Xeno could have matching scars. She had already thought about this and made her descision. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts," Isobel said firmly, "not until I can go with Luna."

"Molly! Can you come down here for a moment? The soup is uh...smoking!"

Mr Weasley's voice boomed up from the ground floor, startling both Isobel and Mrs Weasley. Isobel quickly realised that they weren't alone and that the door was open so anyone could hear her being vulnerable. She sat back against the wall and folded her legs into her chest, her arms cupping them in a hug.

"Well, uh...I need to go," Mrs Weasley said as she got up. "Are you sure you don't want to join us for Dinner? Are you going to be alright?"

"No, don't worry; I'm good here," Isobel smiled politely. "I promise I'll eat the soup."

Mrs Weasley returned her smile and left the room, Isobel watching her as she did so. Their talk had been brief, but it had made her feel better...and hungrier. It was good to talk things through, and Mrs Weasley was an unlikely person to relate to. 

When she heard footsteps walking down the stairs, Isobel realized the door had been left unlocked, so she quietly stood off the bed and tip-toed across the room to shut it again. The door was almost closed when she heard hushed voices from below.

"Well, she is hellbent on leaving Arthur. I don't know what to do. I'm not sure if we can stop her."

"Molly, you've read the newspapers; she's a muggle-born - we can't just let her walk out onto the street!"

They were talking about her. She opened the door again slowly to avoid creaking and approached the staircase railing, making sure not to attract any attention to herself as she listened more carefully. Ginny's room was on the first floor, so she could see the ground below her. The Weasley's dinner table was set, but no one was sitting there, and Mr and Mrs Weasley stood in the living room in close discussion. She bent down so that they wouldn't be able to see her listening in.

"I'm well aware of that Arthur, but she's just as stubborn as the boys," Mrs Weasley argued. "She's not going to stop trying to leave, and when she finally does, I'd rather it be with someone who could protect her."

"I agree," said another voice in the room. "She's smart, and I have no doubt she could defend herself. But it's an impossible fight when five snatchers are against one witch."

"Well, would you go with her, Remus?" Mrs Weasley asked positively. "Maybe you and Tonks could go together."

Professor Lupin was here? Isobel tried to shove her face through the beams to see more, her cheeks brushing against the wood as she slipped through. She could now see Remus standing by the fire below her.

"I'm afraid I'm just as likely to get snatched," Remus replied disappointedly. "As a werewolf, I don't exactly slip under the radar, so I'll put her in even more danger."

Mr Weasley nodded in agreement, his hands tightly cupping his glass of Sherry. "And Tonks can't go either," he told his wife. "You've seen the reports. All Ministry employees are undergoing background checks. It'll look suspicious if she leaves."

"Then who?" Mrs Weasley asked, her face puzzled with concern, "I can't go. I've got to look after Ginny before term starts, and what about if Ron comes home? Someone must be here if you all get captured by the Ministry."

They all stood around and thought for a moment, each thinking about who could accompany Isobel on her mission to save the Lovegoods. She wanted to tell them that there was no need, she would go alone, but she also wanted to hear what else they had to say.

"And you're sure nobody else from the Order can go with her?" Mr Weasley asked.

"They're all wrapped up in other things," Remus answered, "I hate to say it, but every minute that goes by means that Luna and Xeno's chances of survival get shorter, and the Order hasn't got the time. Something needs to be done, and it needs to happen now."

"I can go," said Charlie Weasley from a hidden corner. Isobel hadn't even realised that any of the Weasley sons were in the room and she was surprised to hear his voice.

"Would you?" Mr Weasley asked as he turned to him.

"Well, yeah," Charlie responded, entering Isobel's sight from the left bookcase. "Bill can't go. He has Fleur and the same nightly troubles as Remus, so I'm the next oldest. I can protect her."

Isobel considered it. She guessed that if they were going to make her go with someone, Charlie would be a good choice. He was skilled and used to dangerous situations, and she had quite liked him. However, that was until he had believed everything Fred had told him and then gave her the cold shoulder, so maybe her judgment was off.

"But aren't they expecting you back in Romania?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"I think they'll be able to excuse me for this," said Charlie with a knowing smile.

There was a popping sound, and two more bodies joined the discussion.

"Excuse me, are we all high?" said Fred in protest as he appeared out of thin air next to Charlie, "has the smoke from outside finally affected your brains? He can't go with her."

"I second that," said George, who appeared on the other side of Charlie, "this is going to be a suicide mission."

They had both apparated to the living room wearing long black potion aprons, which, alongside the bit of Georg'es hair that had turned pink, gave away that they had been concocting products in their old room. They had the subtlety of a Rhino wearing large metal boots.

"Oh, now you're on time for dinner!" said Mrs Weasley exasperatedly. "What have I told you two before about eavesdropping?!"

"We couldn't help it mum, you never include us in these talks!" George complained.

"There's a reason for that," Mr Weasley muttered.

"And why do I feel like this sudden opposition isn't because you care for my wellbeing?" said Charlie sarcastically, who had now chosen to perch himself on the arm of the sofa.

"It's is because of your well-being," said Fred. "Have you not forgotten what I told you about her?"

"No, I haven't," said Charlie in quick response, "and quite frankly, I don't care. She saved Ginny and me at the wedding, I don't care if she was in this so-called Inquisitorial Squad. It's actions that make a person and her best friend is missing. Have sympathy will you."

Isobel's hands clenched the staircase bars tightly, and she felt the sharp edges digging into her skin. So, Fred had told him about her brief stint in the Inquisitorial Squad. She had yet to see a low he wouldn't stoop to.

"Is that what this is about Fred?" Mrs Weasley asked. "You would want some young girl to do this by herself because of some old history from Hogwarts?"

"Some old history?" said George, who looked like she had just slapped him in the face. "It was only two years ago, and we told you everything that happened to us that year! It was horrible!"

"Yet we never heard her name mentioned in any of your stories," said Mr Weasley in the tone of a father who was used to his sons lying. "Our decision is final. Charlie will accompany Isobel if she chooses to go after Xeno and Luna. Now sit down for dinner, your mother has worked hard on it."

"And what exactly will be the plan?" Fred laughed, mocking his parent's authority. "Do you seriously think it will only take two people to break into wherever they're being held?"

"Yeah, you'd need at least a group to do that," George added, "you would need to cover all bases, stake out every entrance point, and make sure the guards are distracted whilst you're getting them out. You'd need at least-"

"Four people," said Remus, pausing as an idea came to mind. "With team members experienced in sneaking around, stealing things, and breaking the rules."

It was as though they all got the same horrible thought simultaneously. Remus was suggesting that Fred and George come along and neither party wanted that to happen. It would be a disaster. 

"No, no way," said George with dread in his voice, "we can't."

"We've got the shop to run," Fred argued.

"What in Diagon Alley? The place that's been the centre of Death Eater attacks?" said Mr Weasley humorously. "You would like to return there and open for business, would you?"

"If it means not spending days on end with her, then yes," Fred quipped back defiantly. 

"Well, if you feel that strongly, it will just have to be Charlie," said Mrs Weasley. Isobel could see that after many years of fighting with them, she didn't want to do it anymore.

"Yeah, just me and her, alone," Charlie said with a cheesy grin to his brothers. "Just two people on a dangerous mission, me protecting her day after day with only each other around for comfort; we'll probably have to share a room to save costs..."

"Okay, okay," said Fred, who appeared eager to shut Charlie up as his face contorted in disgust. "We'll come with you, but only because we're saving you from yourself."

"Thought that would make you come around," Charlie grinned.

Isobel didn't like what she was hearing. This couldn't happen. She wouldn't have cared if it was anyone else, she would take anyone else—just not them. 

"Right, so that's it sorted. You three and Isobel will form a group to get them back," said Remus. "When will you leave, tonight?"

"Tonight?!" Mrs Weasley shrilled with outrage, "I've already got one son on the run from Death Eaters, I'm not sending another three out with no time to prepare!"

Fred and George looked at each other, appearing to exchange a conversation over thought. Isobel was getting restless and itching to get down there and stop it all. She was torn. She was dying to go save Luna and Xeno and was glad they would let her do it, but she was mortified at spending that amount of time close to the Weasleys. 

"We need to shut the shop if we're going to leave it," said George, "what if we leave tomorrow morning and go to Diagon Alley?"

"That sounds like a plan," said Charlie in agreement. "We will need to have time to prepare a strategy anyway."

"Good, glad all finally agree. I'm starving," said Mr Weasley, touching his tummy comfortingly. "Well, come on, dinner's getting cold."

"Can you call Ginny down boys?" asked Mrs Weasley, whose face had gone a pale white. She was hiding it, but she was not all happy with the arrangement that had just been made. 

"No need," said Fred, looking up at the staircase where Isobel was crouching. "You can just go tell her, can't you, Monroe?"

Isobel froze as George, Charlie, Lupin and Mr Weasley averted their eyes upwards to see her on the landing. How had Fred seen her? Did he have X-ray vision? She hadn't seen him glance her way once this whole time. 

She had been found out, so she had no choice but to face them, huffing and standing up straight as she descended the staircase. "How did you even know I was up there?" she asked Fred grumpily. 

"Your perfume," he replied, "the smell of it is attacking my nostrils, do you go through a bottle a day or something?"

Isobel made a note to wear that perfume more often. In fact, she thought of even bathing in it so it became part of her skin's DNA. 

"Funny," she said, "and thanks for the offer, but I refuse. Your services aren't needed on this trip."

"Izzy..." Remus said to her in a more condescending tone than he meant it to be. "None of us condone you going off and finding the Lovegoods, but we also know we cannot stop you. You need to be protected. It's the boys, or nothing."

"Or third option, I do it myself," Isobel told him confidently. "They hate me. They won't help properly."

"You seem to be forgetting something," said George before Remus could respond, "Luna was our friend too."

"Yeah, we're doing this for her, it's nothing to do with you," said Fred.

Isobel turned to them and tried to read their faces. They looked sincere, but she couldn't believe it. She had overheard Fred agreeing to go after Charlie pretended to pursue her after all. 

"You only agreed to go so we wouldn't be alone," Isobel said to Fred, "you're not doing it because you care."

"Two things can be true," Fred replied. "Just because I don't trust my brother with you, it doesn't mean I don't care about getting Luna back. She's a friend, and we'd do anything for her."

Charlie indignantly looked at his brother after that comment, but Isobel was oddly satisfied with Fred's response. For the first time in a long time, Isobel found her beliefs aligned with Fred and George, which felt weird. If they were being honest about caring for Luna, which she hoped they were, then she would be indifferent about them coming along. After all, Remus was right; they needed cunning minds to plan a break-in. 

"Fine," she told him. She looked over her shoulder to check that the adults were distracted and walked over to three brothers, lowering her tone as she spoke next, "but there will be ground rules."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," Fred said sarcastically, looking at her with a false smile. "Alright, Monroe. What do you propose?"

"Firstly, everything we do is for Luna and Xeno, no funny business," she told the twins.

"Done," said George, "not that anything would be fun around you anyway."

"We also all have to agree on a decision before we do something," said Isobel, not amused by his snide comment. "No one takes charge."

"I agree with that one, actually," Charlie intervened. "You two can't gang up on us like you did as kids."

Fred and George smiled nostalgically at him.

"Thirdly, and this one is important, I require privacy at all times, especially at night, and my own bed," she told them, even this time including Charlie in her stern glance. She didn't know if he had been joking earlier, but she thought it best to be safe anyway.

"As if," said George, "but fine, you get your privacy."

"And lastly..." she huffed as she darted directly into Fred's eyes, "you never go against my wishes. If I want to stay, I stay. If I want to fight, I fight. You don't interfere."

"So don't make smart decisions that keep us alive then?" Fred shrugged. Behind his eyes, he was smug. It was infuriating. 

"Oh, that was an example of your intelligence last night, was it?" Isobel asked mockingly, "Running away? Very Brave."

"Well, because of me, you're now alive to go save your best friend", Fred replied, "so you can thank me anytime."

"I will never thank you for that," Isobel said with disdain.

Fred squared up to her, his nose twitching from the perfume he had said he despised. "And I will never save your life again.'

"Can you promise that?" she asked him.

"Oh," Fred smirked, "I swear my life on it."

He smelt like a laboratory, full of chemicals and powders. It reminded her of Hogwarts and the classrooms she once felt safe in. "Good," she said, fighting the memory that her brain was pushing her to relive, "because this is about Luna. It's not about you and me."

"So..." said Charlie, who was watching them rather inquisitively, "are we in agreement then?"

"If he stays out of my way, then yes," answered Isobel. They needed collateral and numbers, and if someone were going to get hurt, she'd rather it be them than her.

"Oh, trust me," said Fred, tilting his head like a curious dog, "it'll be like you don't exist."

"Okay," said Charlie, "well...this is going to be fun."

Chapter Text

Isobel struggled to pull the zip on her small leather-bound rucksack. It was 8 a.m. the following day, and she had just downed a cup of coffee and two pieces of toast at the Burrow before running over to Lovegood's house to get her things. It was haunting to be in that house again without them, but she quickly put all that aside to scoop up her stuff from Luna's bedroom floor. They needed her to be efficient, get on the road as soon as possible, not wallow and be sentimental. She shoved it all in and got changed into a light blue playsuit that she thought was perfect for travelling, and she fastened her hair into a ponytail with the butterfly clip Luna had given her at the wedding. She was going to take it everywhere with her. It was like having a piece of her always.

"Right," she said, slipping the zip to the other end of the bag entirely. "Now, let's get them back, shall we?"

Isobel walked back alone, which gave her time amongst the fields. She took the wheat in her hands and followed the river's path, hoping she would only be away from here for a few days. Soon, she would leave for Hogwarts with Luna by her side - that was the hope anyway.

"Oh, good. I thought you had run away," Charlie said as she approached him outside the Burrow. He was wearing a black snakeskin jacket that had seen some wear and was loading his broom into a tiny pouch. Isobel assumed he had used the same extendable charm that she had.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she smiled in response. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Challenge accepted," said Fred as he and George entered the front garden. They were both ready to go, with rucksacks strapped to their backs and light coats protecting them from the sun.

"I thought I didn't exist to you?" Isobel asked as he walked straight past her. Fred said nothing, but she saw him smirk at George. 

"I talked to him last night," said Charlie, "told him not to make this a hostile environment by ignoring you."

"Well, he clearly listened," she replied sarcastically.

"He'll be fine, don't worry," Charlie huffed, "I'm missing something. I'll be right back."

As Charlie hurried inside, Mr and Mrs Weasley came out carrying four small packages wrapped in clingfilm. "Lunches," Mrs Weasley told Isobel as she handed one to her, "nothing fancy, just some ham sandwiches."

"Thanks," said Isobel gratefully, putting them in her bag. She quite liked ham sandwiches.

"Now be safe," said Mr Weasley as he called Fred and George to him, "if you have any problems, if you get in any danger at all, you come straight home or go to the safe house we've designated to you. Charlie has the key."

"Charlie now has the key," said Charlie as he stepped out of the house again, holding it up. It was an ancient key; Isobel could tell that from how long it was. The detailing at the end of it had a crest, but it was all rubbed away to become unreadable.

"You would all lose your heads if it wasn't switched on," Mrs Weasley tutted. "Now, come on, give your mum a hug."

Isobel stood back as the Weasley brothers hugged each of their parents while they said their goodbyes. She felt a bit awkward standing there, but soon enough, she was dragged into Mrs. Weasley's arms, too.

"Do be safe, Isobel," she said as she squeezed her tightly, "and keep those boys in line. They're going to need it. Don't take any crap."

Mrs Weasley's swearing took Isobel aback, but she was also impressed. She guessed that to be a mother to seven children, you had to be like that. She had grown to be fond of her very much.

"Now that I can promise," said Isobel as she squeezed Mrs Weasley back.

"Right, let's go then; we need to close everything down today," said Fred as the two broke apart. "At this rate, we won't be done until midnight."

Isobel hugged Mr Weasley to signal the last of the goodbyes, and that was them off, her and the three Weasley brothers off on their own. They took one last look at the Burrow and waved to Mr & Mrs Weasley before apparating - leaving behind the bright open farmland and landing in the grey stone cobbles of Diagon Alley. It was busy with people, but no one flinched upon their arrival. The Alley was filled with parents and children shopping for their return to Hogwarts, but something was off. There wasn't that excitement and joy that usually filled the shops this time of year.

"God, I haven't been here in ages," said Charlie as he looked around, "it all looks so different."

"Yeah, a lot happened last year," said George, "let's keep moving."

The twins led the way while Charlie and Isobel walked behind them. Charlie's expression drooped as he noticed the closed shop doors and smashed windows taking over the street, his mouth opening as they came past the worst of it.

"What happened to Ollivanders?" he asked Isobel as he stared up at the abandoned black building to his right, "how do people get their wands now?"

"They took him," Isobel replied matter-of-factly, "so people get wands from either hand-me-downs or shops further out now."

This was common knowledge to her, but Charlie stroked his hand through his long red hair as if this was breaking news, which surprised Isobel. Surely he had known that this type of thing had been happening. It was no secret that Death Eaters had attacked the Alley last summer, and it certainly hadn't been the last time. He would've heard about it from his family, at the very least.

Isobel kept an eye on Charlie, who couldn't keep his eyes off the destruction, until they reached Fred and George's shop. Weasley's Wizards Wheezes - the one place she had always sworn she would never step into. Fred drew out his key, which was coloured lilac purple, and opened the front door. When they all stepped inside the building, Isobel's eyes were greeted by only what she could describe as an explosion of colour. Pinks, Oranges, Yellows, Greens, you could see a different colour everywhere you looked. There was also no blank space; products were scattered everywhere, and eye-catching posters were plastered onto every wall. Sweets, fireworks, potions, magical rocks, trick wands...everything she had ever seen a student own to cause mischief at Hogwarts was on this shop's product line. It was precisely how she had imagined it.

"You can put your bags down here if you want, or you can take them to the flat upstairs," said George, "we can all sleep up there tonight; we have an extra mattress and a sofa for you two."

"Wow, this is amazing," said Charlie, admiring the scale of it all. "You've done well for yourselves."

"Thanks," Fred replied flatly, "if only you could've seen it sooner."

Isobel sensed some underlying bitterness as she put her bag down next to a stand of fainting fancies, and this time, it wasn't involving her. She watched Charlie's smile falter briefly and then pick up again, him striding over to the red staircase that connected all three floors. "Come on then, boys, give us the tour!"

"I'll take you," said George, who saw that his brother had become occupied with emptying the till. "I think you'll love the second floor—we've experimented extensively with fire."

George and Charlie excitedly went up the stairs, leaving Isobel on the ground floor. Fred was entertained, counting up their takings, so she silently perused the shelves around her - now and again picking up an object to analyse before putting it back down. Most of it was toys or one-off products that's sole purpose was to be the butt of a joke. However, there was one section in the back that caught her eye.

"Hey there," she said to a blue baby Pygmy Puff sitting alone in a wooden cage. "How come they have you locked up by yourself in here?"

She gently put her right index finger through the hole in the metal wires and waited for the tiny circular ball of blue fluff with eyes to come and greet her. The Pygmy Puff was cautious at first, but at Isobel's smile, it took a few steps forward and tilted its head to her finger, nudging against it to recreate the action of stroking. It felt like a fuzzy kitten.

"It's the last sibling left," said Fred from behind her, "he was one of ten."

Isobel turned over her shoulder to look at him. He still had his head down, counting money, his red hair hanging over his eyes. She thought perhaps he had gotten used to speaking to customers this way. 

"Oh," she said, talking to the pet in front of her but loud enough for Fred to hear, "but you'll get a home soon, I'm sure."

"Doubt it," said Fred.

Isobel rolled her eyes and just kept stroking the Pygmy. "He's just bitter because you're more attractive," she whispered to it.

"No, it's because he's dangerous," Fred replied.

Isobel looked down at the Pygmy Puff in front of her. He certainly didn't look dangerous. If anything, from the sketches she had seen of them, this one looked relatively more minor in size, like it was the runt of the litter.

"Oh yeah, so dangerous," said Isobel sarcastically as she tickled the side of its cheek. "Look at how ferociously it's snuggling into my—ow!"

As if he had great comedic timing, the Pygmy Puff opened its mouth and revealed its sharp white teeth, clamping down on the tip of Isobel's pale finger and biting her. He kept sinking deeper and deeper, so Isobel tried to shake it off. Unfortunately for her, it had a rugged grip.

"Oh my god, get off! Get off!"

"You never listen," said Fred, who had shaken his head and rushed over to be by her side. He opened the cage from the top and put both hands on the Pygmy, pulling him away from Isobel's finger. It was a slight struggle, but Fred was strong, and he got the pet to release his grip on her before cuddling him up in his arms. The Pygmy Puff relaxed in his embrace and settled down again, appearing as sweet as anything. 

"Here, you go," he said as he pulled a red biscuit-like treat from the bag hanging to the side of the cage and fed it to the Pygmy. "What a good boy, huh? You taught her a lesson, didn't you?"

"I thought you were being sarcastic," said Isobel, who was holding her bleeding finger tightly.

"I might be sarcastic Monroe," said Fred, his face trying not to be too smug, "but I don't lie."

He bounced the Pygmy Puff in his arms a few times like a baby, and it made a happy squealing sound. Isobel would've found it adorable if it hadn't drawn blood from her a few seconds earlier.  Fred placed it back in its cage and gave him a few more treats to snack on, and Isobel took a step away from it - now more weary of the creature.

"Why do you keep it here?" she asked him, "if that was a child..."

"A child wouldn't have been so stupid as to put its finger in the cage," Fred replied as the latches secured, "and it would've read the sign."

He pointed to the left-hand side of the cage, where a purple star sticker was stuck to it. It read: "Please do not touch; Sebastien had a thirst for blood."

Sebastien, Isobel thought. Of course they had named it.

"Well, you should make it clear. People could miss that," she said.

"And yet, you're the first person who's done it," Fred smiled mockingly. "Do you need a plaster?"

"No, it's okay," she replied, looking down at her finger, "I can heal it myself."

"Okay, just let me know if you start to feel strange in the next few hours," said Fred. After dropping this bombshell, he began walking back to the till.

"What do you mean strange?" Isobel asked promptly.

Fred went behind the desk and leaned on his elbows next to the coins he had been counting. "Oh, you know, dizziness...nausea...aversion to daylight and a craving for human flesh."

At first, she thought he was joking, but his face didn't move. Weirdly, and she must have been wrong about this, he appeared slightly concerned. Isobel repeated the symptoms in her head, and she could only come up with one reasonable conclusion. She prayed she was wrong.

"That's not a normal Pygmy Puff, is it?" she asked him.

Fred shrugged loosely. "It depends on what you define as normal," he said. " It is a magical creature, after all."

"Yes, but what isn't normal is a Pygmy Puff that is a vampire!" Isobel said with a slightly raised voice. 

"Look, it'll be okay, alright," Fred defended, proving her theory, "he's bitten George and me a few times when changing his cage, and it's never done us any harm."

"Yet," Isobel snapped, "what are you doing breeding things like him anyway!"

"It was an experiment that went wrong. We were trying to make pets that could never die," he explained.

"Oh great, well now you've created pets that will kill the whole family instead! Shit!"

Her blood was now dripping onto the floor, and the wound had started to sting. Fred immediately came out of the desk with his wand and tapped it once on the tip of the finger, the wound instantly beginning to close up and heal.

"We were trying to create it for Ginny," he told her, whipping a piece of cloth out of his back jean pocket and kneeling to wipe the blood off the floor. "Her Pygmy got caught in the crossfire the night Dumbledore died, and she's been heartbroken. If we succeed, we will give her the first one."

Isobel just stared at him as he stood up in front of her. Well, he got her there. She couldn't say anything sassy to a kind gesture like that - no matter how moronic the outcome was. Especially after he had just healed her without her asking.

"What? Are you going to lecture me on the morality of life?" Fred sneered. 

"No," said Isobel, who felt rather strange but not because of her injury, "I think that's rather...nice of you. The thought of it, anyway."

Fred seemed surprised she hadn't made a witty comeback and had said something borderline complimenting. Isobel couldn't believe she had said it either. 

"I promise you'll be fine," he said, returning to the till. "Now go find my brothers. We have work to do if we're going to leave here tomorrow morning."

Fred and Isobel barely spoke to each other for the rest of the day. It was as if neither of them knew how to continue after that, and they stayed out of each other's way. George told her how to package up the instant darkness powder without making a mess, and Charlie helped her carry the fireworks to the cellar downstairs for safekeeping; she and Fred only crossed on the stairs, but even then, they only gave a passing glance at each other.

They worked through the morning until lunch, when they stopped to eat Mrs. Weasley's sandwiches and washed them down with cartons of Pumpkin juice from Fred and George's stash. Then it was back to it. By the time they had finished, it was late into the evening, and the only thing visible in the shop was them and a few lit candles. 

"Right, that's everything done, and the cellar is double-locked. Nobody is going to get in there," said George as he and Fred came up from downstairs, swinging his wand in hand. "No one will want to break in while we're gone if they see this place barren."

"Thank God, I can barely see from hunger," said Charlie as he lay on the shop's windowsill. "I'm starving. What's for dinner?"

"We have some stuff upstairs that we can cook. I think we have enough for everyone to have chicken and potatoes," Fred suggested.

"Do you have any vegetables?" Isobel asked.

"Please don't tell me you're a vegetarian," George said immediately, his eyes wide, "this is going to be really hard if you're vegetarian."

"No?" Isobel replied sassily, "It would just complete the meal, and I can help. The vegetables were always my job at Xeno's."

She reminisced about dinner with the Lovegoods: Xeno on the meat, Luna on the sides, and Isobel on the vegetables and table making. They had done it so often that they ran it like clockwork, and nobody ever got in each other's way or interrupted the flow. She hadn't realized how much she would miss it until now. 

"I think we have some green beans somewhere in a can," said Fred, "do you know how to boil water?"

Isobel sensed the irony of this, given she was the only muggle in the room and, therefore, the only person who had experienced using these utilities without magic, but she let it go. It was the first thing he had said to her in hours. 

"I think I can figure it out," she told him.

"Amazing, well, let's go up and get up and eat before Charlie faints on the floor."

The four walked up to Fred and George's flat at the very top of the building. It wasn't grand but was more extensive than Isobel had expected for rooms on top of a shop. It had a small living room with a sofa and a fireplace, a kitchen equipped with all the tools two bachelors would need, a bathroom which Isobel was happy to find was clean, and two bedrooms - one for each of the twins. It reminded her of a university flat, with the mismatched furniture accumulated by handouts and deal-hunting, but it did feel somewhat coordinated. It wasn't as messy as she had imagined the boys' place to be - even if the beige wallpaper on the wall was slightly peeling in some corners.

"Make yourselves at home," said George as he entered the kitchen, "and you can leave your bags in my room."

Though Fred repeatedly made fun of it, Isobel did cook the green beans from a tin. She wanted to contribute and didn't want them to hold free food over her head. She found the one pan that hadn't been used from the bottom cupboard and set it to boil, watching it sizzle as the bubbles appeared. Fred and Charlie set the table while George cooked the rest of the dinner. Isobel wouldn't tell him directly, but it smelt good. 

"You can take my room," he told her over her shoulder whilst Fred and Charlie were arguing about Quidditch teams. "I know you want your privacy."

Isobel appreciated the offer. However, there was one exception to her original rule—she did want her own bed, but only if it had been one that Fred or George Weasley had never touched. 

"No, it's okay; I'll sleep on the sofa or mattress out here," she said as she turned down the heat on the stove. The beans were ready. 

George's sharp nose wrinkled up, and he stepped closer to her, whispering. "I wasn't really asking, Fred doesn't want-"

"I don't care what Fred wants," she said flippantly as she poured the beans into the filter, "I can sleep on the mattress, and Charlie can sleep on the sofa. I can promise you nothing will happen, but he will not tell me what to do. You can sleep in your rooms."

"But he-"

"I think these are done."

She then placed the beans in a bowl and walked away, serving them on the table. George followed a couple of minutes later, and they all sat down to dinner. He was a bit stroppy with her after that comment, but she let it slide. She knew why Fred didn't want her sleeping in the same room as Charlie, but they didn't realise that she was way more interested in Charlie's life rather than his body. She had questions to ask him after his astoundment at the state of Diagon Alley but was willing to wait until they were alone to ask him.

They all finished eating and began to feel sleepy immediately. Fred and George quickly washed up as Charlie and Isobel took turns in the bathroom, changing into their pyjamas. Once Isobel came out in her white daisy-covered nightwear, they set up the living room, ready for bed. After refusing Charlie's offer of the sofa, Isobel took the spare mattress, and she welcomed the sheets George gave her to line it as a bed. It wasn't much, but it smelled like the Burrow, which was enough to make her feel comfortable. They all said their goodnights as the twins went into their rooms, and Charlie turned to go to sleep before Isobel even had a chance to talk to him. He was the most exhausted out of everyone which made her question how much hard work being a dragon tamer was actually like.

She didn't know how the boys could fall asleep so quickly; her mind was too unsettled to rest. Every time she tried to close her eyes, another thought of what Luna and Xeno could be going through popped into her head. At about midnight, after an hour of trying, Isobel got off the mattress and decided to go for a walk. She put a blue jumper over her pyjamas, slipped past Charlie, snoring soundly on the sofa, and exited the flat, quietly walking down to the empty shop floor until she reached street level. Diagon Alley had never been so scarce. As she stepped out into the night, she could see that every light was blown out, the colour from the street had gone, and there wasn't any evidence of humans, animals, or even rats. It was becoming abandoned, nothing like Isobel had experienced before her first year. It didn't feel safe.

"Hey Monroe, didn't anyone ever tell you it was dangerous to walk the streets alone at night?"

His familiar voice ran through her like ice. She slowly turned around to face the side of the shop and saw a tall boy leaning there in the alleyway with blonde hair so bright that it glistened silver in the moonlight. A thin black velvet cloak covered his face, but she didn't have to see his face to recognise him.

"Draco," said Isobel with dread, "what are you doing here?"

Draco looked at her, and she could see his scars again. Only now had they faded further, appearing as pink lines. "I was just doing some back-to-school shopping," he said darkly.

Isobel stepped back in preparation to run away. After their last meeting, she didn't know if he was friend or foe, and she wasn't willing to bet her life on waiting for the answer.

"Oh, don't even think about it," said Draco, and he pointed his wand at her, realising a thick, tight rope that flew at Isobel and wrapped itself around her body. Once secure, he pulled her in, forcing her back against the wall and unable to move.

"Come on, Izzy. Why so quick to get away?" he said in a troublesome tone as she hit the cold concrete brick. "I thought you'd miss me."

Isobel struggled to free herself from the rope's holds, but it was useless. She was stuck. "I have nothing to say to you," she breathed, "let me go."

"Well, that's a pity because I think you'll find what I have to say quite interesting," said Draco, and he reached into his pocket to pull out a strand of material that appeared to have been ripped from its original garment. Isobel immediately knew where it was from. It was from Luna's dress the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"Luna," she spoke, and her eyes raged angrily at his face, "Where is she?!"

"Calm down Monroe, we don't want us getting ahead of ourselves," Draco smirked, "I can't tell you that yet."

Now, this was the Draco she had first known. Ruthless, mocking, and loved toying with his prey.

"Oh, trust me, you will tell me-"

"Why? Because you'll curse me?" Draco laughed, "Is that not going to be difficult in your situation?"

Isobel grunted as she struggled to set herself free once again. Her wand was in her sock, and there was no way to reach it. What was more annoying was that Draco knew where Luna was and probably who took her - but he would never hand in information like that for free. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to hit him.

"Well, why are you here, then?" she asked as she gave up moving. "Just to torment me before arresting me, is it?"

This thought seemed to make Draco happy, and it sickened her. "Darling, as much as I'd love to see you in handcuffs, I'm not here for that," he told her. "No, I'm here to present you with an offer."

"The answer is no," she refused. She was relieved that she wasn't going to get snatched, but that didn't mean that she wanted to hear what he had to say. She didn't negotiate with those who committed crimes.

Draco smiled and pressed his finger against her lips to tell her to be quiet. "Oh, Izzy, you really need to learn to listen first and speak later. You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"I don't need to," she spat as she hit his finger away with her mouth, "and you don't get to call me Izzy anymore."

"Oh, you're going to let me call you whatever you want," said Draco, his thump stroking her lips down to her chin, "because I'm the only one who can get you your best friend back."

She decided to play devil's advocate. If there was one thing she had learned from her time with Draco, he hated things that were not going his way. He wanted her to beg and plead so she would do the opposite.

"I don't believe you," she said stiffly, "so you've got a piece of fabric. That means nothing."

She was right. There was a moment when his lips quivered, breaking his smile. He didn't like that he would have to prove his threat.

"Whose family do you think ordered the attack on the wedding?" Draco asked her as he came closer. His tall structure almost blocked out the moonlight from her sight. "I was there when she was brought in. Bless her, she looked slightly worse for wear."

"Prove it then, let me see her," Isobel challenged him. She was hoping he would reveal everything without her having to do anything.

"Oh, Izzy," said Draco, "we're fair people, but we are not stupid. And you don't have a hold on me anymore. It's the deal or nothing."

Crap. So he wasn't going to give anything more up.

"And what do you want in return?" Isobel asked snappily, "There's always a catch with you."

"The two jokers," Draco said, glancing upwards at the shop sign above them. "You deliver them to us, and we'll let Luna go."

Fred and George? Isobel thought. That's who he wanted? They were hardly of any value compared to Potter and the Order, so-

"What do you want with them?" Isobel asked him.

"Bait," Draco explained with excitement, "Little Ronnie will do anything to save his brothers and Potter and Granger have this unbearable need to do the right thing. They'll come running into our hands if word gets out that we have Diagon Alley's finest prats in custody."

Draco was correct. Ron always looked up to Fred and George, and they always treated Harry as their adopted little brother. They would definitely come running if this was any normal circumstance - but she wasn't sure that Draco had thought this through.

"And you think it won't look bad on you that you've captured two members of a pure-blood family, members of the sacred twenty-eight?" Isobel questioned him, "You don't think that will blow up in your face when you're supposedly trying to protect your 'perfect' race?"

Though she may not have liked the Weasley family, she had done her research. If not for the wealth disparity, the Weasleys would have been on the same purity level as the Malfoys.

"No, not when they're seen as blood traitors, the filth stain on the sacred dynasty," said Draco with utter disdain. Isobel knew he hated them even more than she did.

"The whole Order will come after you," she warned.

"And they'll fall right into our trap," Draco replied with a smirk.

"Your hatred really does have no bounds."

"I remember you used to like that part of me."

He moved so close that he was pressing up against her body, her feeling the weight of his chest against hers.

"I will never agree to another deal with you," she told him powerfully, "I refuse."

He didn't stop getting closer, knowing it would make her uncomfortable. His face was now only a few centimetres from hers. "Well then, it's bye-bye Lovegood."

"We will save her another way," Isobel stated.

"Oh really?" Draco chuckled as his lips brushed hers, "Okay Izzy, then humour me. Let's say you save Luna...then who will save you?"

"Meaning?" She asked. His efforts were working, and she was getting slightly heated. He had her trapped here, and no one was walking by to save her any time soon.

"Things will get darker for you mudbloods by the day, alright?" He asked her with contempt in his tone, "And my family's power will only grow. You lead tweedle dum and tweedle Dee to the Manor, and I promise you you'll get pardoned from the dirty, horrific fate you'll face otherwise."

He almost revelled in telling her this. She had been his classmate for six years and his friend for two of them. He enjoyed telling her how she was a damsel in distress and that he was the only one who could give her grace. Though angry, Isobel breathed to stay calm and composed, speaking the following few words without letting her emotions show.

"I'm not going to sacrifice someone to save myself, even if it's someone I despise," she told him, "I'm not a coward."

"Oh, come on, you're not this stupid," said Draco, irritated by her constant refusal to give in. "They're with you now because you have a mutual cause. But you say it yourself: You hate each other. If the shoe was on the other foot, do you really think they would spend any time refusing to give you over?"

She hated herself for thinking it, but Draco was right. They would have already given her over without a second thought if it had been to save Ron. Who's to say that situation wouldn't come about in the future before they got Luna back? She had to stay ahead.

"How can I ever trust you again?" she asked him sceptically.

"Do you not remember?" he said, stroking her cheek. His fingers were as cutting as his voice. "You helped me once; I'm just returning the favour."

She struggled for her hands to be free. She didn't want him touching her ever again. "That's wrong, I didn't even know what I was helping you for!" Isobel fought back, "If I had known what would've happened next, I never would have-"

"Shhhh..." said Draco, forcing his hand on her mouth so that she choked on air mid-speech. "You'll wake the little Freddie and Georgie up. You have two days to make your decision. I'll find you for your answer. Good night Monroe, try to not to dream of me."

Without another word, Draco apparated into the night, his chains that bound her leaving with him. She fell to the hard floor with a thud and hit her knees.

Two days. She had two days to devise another plan to save Luna before Draco returned. Otherwise, she feared what condition she would be in to accept his offer.

Time was running out. They had to work together for everyone's sake.

Chapter Text

"Well, I don't know, where do you think they would be keeping them?"

"The Ministry?"

"No, that would be too risky; too many people are not on their side yet."

"What about Azkaban?"

"You really think they would put them with the most dangerous criminals in the country Fred?"

"Uh yeah, because they are the most dangerous criminals in the country. They know it like the back of their hand."

"Well, what about one of their houses? I mean, I'm sure old Voldy is using one of their houses as a safe house; who's to say another isn't being used as a holding cell for victims?"

"You actually might be on to something there George."

Isobel woke up to the sounds of the three Weasley brothers discussing strategy over coffee. To be fair to them, they were at least trying to be quiet. When she opened her eyes, she saw that day had dawned, and bright sunlight now filled the walls of the flat with little dust particles floating about due to the age of the building. She sat up on her elbows and immediately felt the sensation of her arms aching. The actions of Dracos' rope had left lasting bruises.

"Morning sleepyhead," said Charlie's voice from behind her.

"I'm so glad you felt comfortable enough to have a lie-in," said Fred cheerfully, "considering your friend is in mortal danger."

Isobel was so tired that she didn't even have the energy to fight back. "What time is it?" she asked with sleepy eyes.

"It's just gone nine," said Charlie, and she heard him get up from the dining table and walk over to her. Soon enough, a hand was placed in front of her, carrying a mug of coffee.

"Thanks," said Isobel, taking it from him and gulping it down. It was plain black and piping hot - it instantly burned her throat. "Oh my god, that's strong."

"Yeah, sorry. We're all used to it by now," Charlie chuckled. "The pre-quidditch match buzz trick just kind of sticks with you."

"No wonder you Gryffindors were always bouncing off the walls," Isobel muttered to herself, holding the mug steady as she rolled off the mattress towards the kitchen. "Do you guys have milk? Or sugar?" she asked.

"Yeah, we got rid of it all yesterday because it was going to go bad," George smirked. "It's such a shame."

"What a coincidence," she huffed as she searched the cupboards around her. Eventually, she found a box of old spices and was delighted to see one labelled cinnamon. She got it out, popped off the lid, and put two shakes into her coffee.

"That should make it sweeter," she said, taking a sip. It was spiced, like a ginger biscuit, and much better than plain black. She turned around to face the boys and found them all looking at her legs. "What?"

"Um, how did you get those?" George asked, pointing at her downwardly.

Isobel looked down and saw that Draco had hurt more than just her arms. There were lines of red marks all over her legs from last night, with purple patches from where they had been too tight.

"Oh," she said, trying to blow it off, "I'm a deep sleeper. My skin kind of does that sometimes."

She didn't want to tell them about Draco. If she did, they would never believe her that she didn't take him up on his offer.

"That's funny. It didn't sound like you're a heavy sleeper. I heard you go for a midnight stroll," said Charlie as he sat back down at the table.

"You went out on your own?" George asked, midway through eating a slice of toast. The lump of food was resting on his tongue.

"Well, yeah, I have trouble getting to sleep when I'm in a new place," Isobel told him. "I just went outside for some fresh air, that's all. Then I was knocked right out."

"And you didn't think that would be dangerous?" Fred asked curiously. He then looked down at her legs again as he chewed his cereal, "Nobody hurt you, did they?"

"Nope. Not like you'd care anyway."

She walked over to them and pulled out the chair next to Charlie so that it was two opposite two. Upon sitting down, she noticed that on the table there was a piece of parchment with the headline "Plan" written in black ink and nothing else. That was her excuse to get the conversation off of last night.

"I can see you've been creative masterminds," she jibbed.

"We've been trying to work out where Luna and Xeno are being held," Charlie told her, "places where Death Eaters will feel comfortable hiding them."

"It would be a secure space, one that they know well," said George.

"You wouldn't happen to know one like that, would you?" Fred asked, "Since they're your buddies."

"Fred-"

"No, Charlie. He's right," said Isobel, avoiding Fred's eye contact. She knew more about them than any of them sitting around the table. She had spent months with the children of Death Eaters and had listened to them talk about their luxurious lives. However, she couldn't see any of their houses being makeshift prisons.

"So you might have an idea?" Charlie asked with hope.

No, she didn't. She didn't have a clue. Draco hadn't given anything away. However, an idea did come to mind. They just wouldn't like it.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," she said, "but...I-I might know someone who might."

"Who?" George asked with his mouth full.

It was a risk—a big risk—that made her think she was crazy. They were slippery friends, but they were her friends—at one point anyway. She had to trust that they wouldn't turn her in.

"Theo Nott," she told the group, "if I can get him alone, I can probably get some information. But it has to be alone. Away from anyone else."

That was very important.

"Theo?" Fred asked, dropping his spoon in his cereal bowl to confront her.  "You're insane; we can't ask him."

"Who is he?" Charlie asked Isobel.

"He's part of this Slytherin group," Isobel answered him. "They're all children of rich, powerful wizards."

"And all members of the inquisitorial squad," Fred added sarcastically, "who beat us with curses until we bled."

Isobel glared at him. "You know Theo didn't participate in that. Plus, he's guaranteed to know something. Your bias aside, it's worth a shot."

"He's not more likely to tell you anything more than he would tell us," said Fred, "he and Parkinson might have taught you how to curl your hair and put on make-up, Monroe, but he is not your friend."

"He was more than you two were," Isobel replied, staring at him over her coffee cup while she took a sip.

"Well, this Theo...where would we find him?" Charlie asked. He pulled out a small pocket map of the British Isles and laid it across the table. The ends were burnt off, and half of Scotland was missing.

Isobel was the tiniest bit stumped. In all the time she had known Theo, he had hardly ever mentioned his home or family. There was no evidence of where he lived or where he'd be, except...wait, what was today's date again?

"I think I might know," said Isobel, "it's a gamble, but it just might be what we need. And we're going to need a change of wardrobe..."

A few hours later, the four of them apparated into a forest just on the border of Hampshire. Daylight had long broken, and warm golden beams were streaming down the gaps between the tall birch trees surrounding them. In the distance, there was the sound of faint music, and that was a sign of where they needed to be.

"Right," said Isobel as she flicked a dry leaf off of her new white boho dress. "We need to blend in. That means no talking to anyone unless we're spoken to, minimal contact with anyone but Theo, and, most importantly, no magic."

"Oh yeah, we'll really blend in this," Fred said as he pointed out his maroon paisley shirt, which Isobel had bought for him only minutes ago from a local charity shop. "This is really low-key."

"I think you should keep it; it's an improvement," Isobel replied.

"And don't forget the plan: we get in, find Theo, get the information, and then we leave immediately," Charlie said. He appeared to quite like the cream-netted kimono Isobel had found for him and was twirling slightly in the wind.

"And what happens when this all goes south, and Theo isn't too happy that we've turned up uninvited?" George asked, adjusting his new reflective sunglasses. "Has Miss Big Idea thought of that?"

"Yeah, we all run and then, when in a safe location, apparate back to the shop," Isobel answered. Of course she had a plan B. "Now follow me and keep close; you're not used to this kind of party."

Following the sounds of the vibrations, Isobel led the boys through the forest into a clearing. Her hunch had been correct. Theo was still throwing his annual festival. Except, as opposed to what one might believe, his guests were muggles - not his fellow purebloods. There were black and gold streamers hanging all over the tree canopies, a large stage at the very back where the loud music was being played, and around 300 people all dancing without care. Theo, however, had not wholly disguised his abilities, as silk and Ariel dancers were hanging from mid-air (attached to nothing), and a stream of glitter was constantly falling all over the partygoers like sparkly rain. The biggest show of his powers though, was that they had emerged into darkness. Theo had bewitched this part of the forest to look like the night sky.

"Is it his birthday?" Charlie asked as they were all onlookers from behind a bush.

"No, it's just his day," Isobel huffed. "He does this every year—he throws a party for the muggles in his local village. They all worship him because of it. They know him as the Miraculous Mr Nott."

She remembered him showing her the poster for it at the end of her fourth year. He would wait until the day before the festival and then post it through every door in the village at exactly 6 p.m. It was, according to him, the hottest ticket in town.

"But how does he explain the magic?" Asked Fred over her shoulder.

"They just think he's wealthy and talented," Isobel replied, "so they're half correct."

"You got that right," said Fred, "now let's go get the sod and squeeze him until he sings."

Isobel grabbed him by the arm to stop him from storming over. "No!"

"He could have information on where they are. We shouldn't waste any time," he said as he shook her off like a bug.

"Yes, but he also hates you," Isobel said matter-of-factly. "It needs to be me alone. You just have to get me there and ensure no one interrupts us."

Isobel scanned the scene for Theo. There were many people, so it was hard to see. However, she wouldn't have to look much longer as the area suddenly went dark, and a single spotlight highlighted the lead singer of a band that had just appeared on stage. He was tanned with olive skin, which was on full display since his chest was exposed through an unbuttoned waistcoat, and his sharp jaw lay under curls of the darkest brown. He was the shortest of the band, but the glimmer in his ice-grey eyes lured in every gaze from the audience. The crowd instantly stopped dancing, and they all faced him, cheering loudly and clapping their hands.

"Good afternoon, you beautiful people," the singer announced deeply through the microphone. "Who's up for partying with us all night, then?"

The crowd roared.

"Is that...him?" Charlie asked.

"Yep," Isobel replied with a glint in her eye, "that's Theo."

Theo's band started playing, and the drums thumped through the air, the leading man himself drafting up an electric guitar out of nowhere and starting to play as he sang. Isobel knew he could sing, but that had only been during the rare karaoke match or chanting lazily at Quidditch Games - he appeared completely relaxed up there and was actually pretty good. As the song continued, bright orange flames engulfed the whole party in a circle, rising to over 10 feet. They were fake though, as it ripped through George without burning him to a crisp.

"How the hell will we get to him from up there?" He asked as he jumped back from the flame.

"We're going to have to get backstage somehow," Isobel replied. "Maybe if we get closer, we can find a way in."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Charlie asked her quickly, giving Theo the side-eye as he started gyrating on the microphone. "He doesn't seem the type just to want a conversation."

At first glance, Theo was not the sort of boy you would leave a girl alone with. He was dangerously attractive, had a winning smile, and had a knack for getting people to do what he wanted. She could see Charlie's concern. However, she and Theo had a history - he wouldn't mess with her.

"Trust me," she reassured him, "I'll be fine."

"Besides, she's not really his type," George threw out there, "he wouldn't touch her with a bargepole."

"And how would you know that?" Isobel asked.

"Because you're not from their incest group of purebloods," George replied.

Isobel thought there would've been some sort of insult in there, so she was pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, come on George. You know that's never stopped them before," Fred goaded. "It definitely didn't stop his best friend."

"Who's his best friend?" Charlie asked him.

"Draco...Malfoy," Fred told him slowly, looking out at the crowd before him. "You and he got pretty cosy didn't you Monroe?"

"You dated a Malfoy?" Charlie asked Isobel. He appeared disappointed in her, and it didn't feel good.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a relationship," said Isobel, remembering last night's encounter. "Now, are we going to help our friends, or are we going to waste time talking about my love life?"

"I have an idea," said Fred, "follow me for greatness."

He then disappeared out of sight, much to Isobel's annoyance. She was furious that he had broken the no-magic rule by apparating, and she looked for where he had landed. It took a few seconds, but then she saw him: a head full of red hair appeared down at the front of the stage.

"Does he ever listen to anyone ever?" Isobel asked George.

George just smiled proudly. "Nope."

He stepped out from the bushes and apparated to the front of the stage also. Charlie quickly followed, and without much of a choice, Isobel appeared behind them moments later. The music was booming, vibrating underneath their feet on the dry forest floor, and everyone was too tipsy or drunk to have noticed the four of them appear out of thin air. However, they didn't quite think it through as they were by the speakers - so Theo's voice boomed loudly through their eardrums.

"Ah great, another way for him to give me a fucking headache!" George complained as a girl bumped into him.

"We have to get backstage!" Isobel shouted back, "Do you see a way in?"

"No, he's got security everywhere," said Charlie, looking around and covering his ears, "and I doubt our names are on the door."

"We could break in," George suggested, "I've brought some instant darkness powder from the shop."

"That'll attract too much attention, we can't," Charlie disagreed.

"Why can't we just walk straight in?" said Fred.

"Because we don't have passes," said Isobel, "they'll turn us away."

"Oh, what, like these?"

Fred showed them all four green laminated backstage passes hanging from his right hand and paraded them with arrogance. Isobel studied them and then looked at the security guards' passes - they were an exact match.

"Where did you get those?" Isobel asked him. "Did you steal them?"

"No, I made them myself," he replied, slightly offended that she would even accuse him of such a thing. "It's a fine skill that George and I have refined—we can make a decent copy of almost everything."

"So forgery," said Isobel. Great, it was only the second day, and they were already getting her to commit a crime.

"Actually, it's Fraud," said George and he picked up one of the passes and swung it around his neck. "Learn your crimes Monroe, if you want to talk to Theo - this is our best way to do it."

Isobel met Charlie's eyes, which were also hesitant. He seemed more sure of his brother's plan than she was however, taking one from George himself. It was three against one; she couldn't fight them, so she grudgingly took a pass and put it around her neck.

"Fine, but you two are getting us in," she said.

"Watch and learn," said Fred, smirking as he bravely took the position of leader as he and George swaggered to the side of the stage with Isobel and Charlie in tow. There was a black curtain leading to the back of the stage, and a tall man with a bald head was guarding it. He was the same height as Fred but still looked twice the size, and he seemed the type not to be impressed with big-headed teenagers who were pushing their luck.

"Backstage please," Fred said to him confidently.

"Pass please," said the security guard in the same tone.

Fred held his pass up so that the guard could see it. The rest of them waited with held breaths as the guard gave his verdict.

"Name," he demanded.

"Excuse me?" George asked, "We all have backstage passes."

"Yeah, without names," said the guard, "so your names should be on the list. What are they?"

Fred and George hadn't anticipated this hurdle. They froze as they stuttered, trying to think of something clever to say. However, they were in luck, as they had someone who knew exactly the small amount of people Theo would have invited.

"Pansy Parkinson," said Isobel as she stood forward, "and this is Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zabini. I think you'll find we're all on there."

She made sure she nodded to Charlie when she said Blaise's name. It was a cool name, and it suited him - and she loved the added dig of having the twins be called Crabbe and Goyle. The guard looked at her curiously and then reached into his pocket, bringing out a list on a small notepad.

"Your names are down," he said, opening the curtain behind him. "Wait in here; Mr Nott will be finished soon."

The crowd cheered as Theo finished a song, and Isobel, Fred, George, and Charlie entered through the curtain and into the backstage area. They were left completely alone and found that they were the only people there.

"I can't believe he actually believed those passes," said Isobel happily, "it worked!"

"Why the tone of surprise, huh?" Fred asked." You're with the best in the business."

Backstage, there was hardly anything to rave about. Black and silver boxes were stacked near the stage, and there was hardly anywhere to sit—the only thing of note being a white chiffon tent at the back with a black leather sofa, circular table, and fridge. On the opening of this tent, there was a piece of paper that had written on it, "Mr Nott."

Of course, he had saved the best space for himself and left everyone else to fend for themselves.

"Right, we can wait in there," said Charlie as he noticed the tent.

"No, you can't be here when he comes," Isobel refused. "You need to hide so he can't see you."

"Why?" Charlie asked.

"Because you're Weasleys, he can't see me with Weasleys," she said.

"She's right," said George. Isobel's stare flicked to him as she realised he had just backed her up.

"Well, what if he causes you any trouble?" Charlie insisted.

Isobel smiled. It was sweet that he cared so much. "There won't be any trouble," she told him, "I can handle it."

"I know...," said Charlie, pausing as if he wanted to say something but was stopping himself. "He just looks like trouble."

"She said she can handle it alright," Fred sighed, abruptly ending their conversation. "Oh, and also, you might want to ask him about the glitter rain."

"What?" Asked Isobel, "What about the glitter rain?"

"Did you not look at the crowd?" Fred asked her. "They never stopped smiling. He's cursing them to have fun, just so they admire him, and he's using the rain to do it. It's sick."

"Oh come on Weasley," Isobel laughed, "they just like his music."

"You really think they liked that rubbish?" Fred insisted sarcastically, "Trust me, George, and I know tricks—they're under a spell."

Fred had gotten them in, so she owed it to him to entertain his suspicion, no matter how ridiculous she thought it to be. "Okay, fine," she said to appease him. I'll bring it up."

Charlie seemed slightly embarrassed at his brother's lack of care. "Right, okay then, good luck."

They all then split apart, with Isobel going into the tent and the three boys hiding behind it. Once she was on her own, questions started flooding her brain.

Was she doing the right thing?

Could she really trust Theo?

What about if he knew nothing? Or worse...he knew everything and was in on it too.

She waited and waited, her legs shaking with goosebumps underneath her dress.

"What are you doing? Just because you're old enough to be her dad, it doesn't mean you have to act like it," said Fred from behind the tent.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Charlie. "Maybe this is a new emotion for you; it's called caring about another person."

They were all talking loud enough that she could hear.

"You are basically old enough to be her dad though," said George.

"And it's not caring, it's creepy," Fred replied. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again - she's too young for you."

"Well, call it creepy brother, but it's actually called being a man," Charlie said smartly, "He's a son of a death eater for Christ's sake; he could do anything to her, especially if what you said is true about the glitter. The gentlemanly thing to do is to make sure she's safe."

"Yes, but you don't know her like we do," said Fred. "She can handle herself; she doesn't need a protector."

"Well you're naive."

"And you underestimate her. She's not one of your pet dragons Charlie, or us as kids."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"Oh, I think you know."

The crowd roared one last time, and Isobel knew that meant that Theo would be coming off soon. She quickly fluttered around the tent, looking for the best position she should be in. She went from sitting to standing to sitting to standing. In the end, she chose to stand in the corner. At least he couldn't surprise her from behind.

Theo strutted in about a minute later and didn't even look at her. He stripped off his waistcoat and flung it at the nearest wall, not caring where it landed on the floor. He brought out his wand from his pocket and conjured up a bottle of wine plus two glasses on the table, a combination associated with Theo in the minds of everyone who knew him. She was about to announce herself, but he spoke instead.

"You've surprised me, Monroe," he said slowly as he opened the bottle and started pouring the bubbling yellow liquid into the glasses. "You've never accepted my invitation before."

Isobel attempted to act cool and put herself back in her fifth-year shoes, even though she was stunned at how calmly he had reacted to her presence. "You knew I was here?" she asked.

"Of course I did," he said brashly. "I spotted you the second I came out on that stage. Did you enjoy the show?"

"It was interesting...you have talent...." Isobel replied. Theo was showing no emotion, so she made sure to tread carefully with a joke. "But since when did you ever have to curse a crowd for them to find you entertaining?"

She knew Fred was listening, so she wanted to get it out the way first to prove him wrong. It was a silly accusation, one that she was sure wasn't true, and she said it lightly to prove so to Theo.

"Oh, of course you would notice that," he said, turning to her and walking forward with the glasses. He appeared happy that she had seen his brilliance. "It's great, isn't it? I'm bringing some fun into their silly, meaningless lives."

She couldn't believe it - Fred had been right. He had seen straight through Theo's glamorous cover when she couldn't. Isobel didn't realise that he would stoop so low - and she was disappointed but not surprised.

"Against their will," she stated as she took the glass he offered her from him. She hoped that saying this would lead him to reveal that he was fibbing.

"None of them ever complain," he told her innocently, meaning that he thought this eradicated all guilt. He shrugged his shoulders and grinned pridefully, his teeth sparkling in the darkness. "I'm the Miraculous Mr Nott to them. None of those muggles would ever be able to party as long as they do without my magic...spirit. They love it. Some have been coming for years."

"Because they think they have the illusion of free choice," Isobel argued, still scraping to maintain some appearance of a friendly manner. "Why do you do it? They come anyway; why do you have to control them?"

Theo then uttered words that made her insides churn. Words that weren't entirely his fault, as they only came with the attitude of being raised without consequences.

"Because I can."

Isobel couldn't hide her disgust now, biting her lip to stop herself from lecturing him. "You never change," she said, walking over to the table and slamming her glass down. There was no way she could trust anything he gave her now.

Theo tilted his head as he watched her walk away and looked her up and down, unaffected by her disapproval. "But apparently you do...so tell me, Izzy, since when do you hang with the Weasleys?"

Of course, if he had seen her, then he would have seen them too.

"Since Luna Lovegood and her dad got kidnapped," Isobel stated as she turned around to face him. She was now as serious as she could possibly look.

Theo Nott was one of the most confident people that she had ever met. Nothing phased him. He just floated through life. He was the ultimate rich kid with no worries. However, when those words left her lips, she saw fear in his eyes. He sat down, crouching into himself and leaning on his knees, his bravado stripped away the minute he was faced with something real.

"When?" he asked her.

"A couple of days ago, at Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour's wedding," she answered. "Hence the extra ginger presence."

Theo rubbed his mouth with his hand and looked up at her. "Do you know who took her?"

"No," Isobel answered as she crossed her arms, whispering the next bit so that the Weasleys couldn't hear what she said. "But I had a little visit from our mutual friend last night. Apparently, he knows where she is."

From how his pupils shrunk and the blood drained from his face, she knew Theo knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Draco?" he asked.

"That's right," she said, and now that Theo had unmasked and become as serious as she was, she was able to be a bit more calm. "It was a pleasant conversation. He tied me up and gave me an offer—hand over the Weasley twins to him, and he'd hand her over."

"Shit," he said, not questioning Draco's tactics and curiously raising an eyebrow at her, "Are you going to do it?"

It never shocked her now how much people like Theo were used to the ideas of kidnapping and extortion. Being around them for a short time taught her that the young Slytherins had been exposed to this kind of behaviour since they were in nappies.

"Well, I'm hoping I don't have to..." said Isobel, and now it was her turn to look him up and down. "I know someone else who might be able to tell me where she is," she said.

Theo didn't say anything for a while as he worked out who she meant. The minute he realised, his fake jovial grin returned. "Iz, come on, you know I can't tell you anything."

Isobel sat down next to him. He always liked a personal touch, and her coldness wasn't working.

"Yes, you can," she said to him, placing her hand on his thigh. "I won't tell anyone."

Theo welcomed her touch, dipping his head down to be closer to hers as his tongue glided over his teeth, "C'mon Iz, let's not do this and ruin the reunion. Are you sure you didn't come all this way just to see me?"

"I have seen you, and it looks like you're still the same conceited boy I left at the bell tower," Isobel scoffed as she grabbed his chin and flicked his face away from hers. "Don't try flirting your way out of this like always. You know it doesn't work on me."

Theo was almost even more turned on by her rejection. "Yeah, but there's always time for everything," he said as he turned back to face her, flirtatiously smiling and looking down at her lips. "You've dropped the geek chic, so I'm game, and I know you've thought about me naked."

"I don't have to think about you naked because I've seen you naked," she teased him, "you used to streak around the library every time you got drunk, remember?"

"And were you impressed?" Theo smirked.

"Eh, my books were bigger."

Fred Weasley may have been right. She was a virgin. But that didn't mean she didn't know how to flirt. She couldn't have told them before coming here, but that was her relationship with Theo at Hogwarts. She hated his playboy party ways, and he didn't like her uprightness, so naturally, they could freely flirt without risking falling for one another. It was harmless fun, and they were good friends in the later years of Hogwarts. Something told her that if Fred, George or Charlie had known that she was still fond of him, they would never have let her come here.

He was the only one she still trusted, despite him being a terrible, terrible arsehole.

"So come on, can you help me or not?" She asked.

"I'm sorry," said Theo, and he huffed as he leaned back, realising he wasn't getting anywhere with her, "no can do."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Theo repeated, his seductive aura lessening as his smile fell. "Iz, my dad works for the regime; my entire family does. If a prisoner escapes and they find out it was me who blabbed, my fate will be worse than what Luna is facing—they don't do so kindly towards traitors."

Isobel gripped his thigh, her hand still there, and looked into his eyes. She was desperate, and he was her only lead. "Theo, you owe me," she pleaded.

"I don't owe you this," he refused, and he took another sip of his wine.

"Oh yes, you do," said Isobel, and she grabbed the glass out of his hand and threw it on the floor, "I covered for you big time for your O.W.L's - you would never have gotten into the sixth year if I hadn't helped you. How disappointed would Daddy have been then?"

Because of his partying hobbies, Theo never did well at school. He was failing most of his subjects when Isobel came into his life, and he passed all his O.W.Ls after she spent all of her free nights in the library or common room studying with him.

"This isn't a favour I can return," Theo persisted. "You don't know my family or the society we were in—there are rules, okay? And you owe me two galleons for what you just spilt."

He was being too blasé for her liking. All he had to do was give her a hint, some hope, and he was too cowardly to do it.

"So what, you're just going to continue sitting here cursing muggles into an illusion whilst an innocent girl is being tortured?" She snapped.

Theo hunched forward, getting so close that she could smell his breath. The powerful smell of expensive aftershave and bourbon poured off of him. "I am keeping my head down, okay," he said. I'm not rocking the boat, but I'm also not actively participating. That should be enough for you."

"Well, it's not," Isobel told him frankly. "I don't get you. You're always complaining about your dad, and yet you're just like him. Silence is just as bad as doing the crime, you know."

"I don't know what you want from me," said Theo through gritted teeth.

"I want you to step up and finally do something with your power," Isobel fought quietly. I thought you were different from the others. You never wanted to hurt people like they did."

"It's different now, okay," Theo argued back, "this isn't school anymore, this is real shit. I could get in trouble for even talking to you. You should be protecting yourself; big things are coming, and it won't be safe for you to be in the country anymore, let alone purposely looking for danger. I won't be able to protect you like I did at Hogwarts."

She knew it was a risk coming here, but she couldn't believe he was acting like this. She thought maybe seeing their friend murder the headmaster would be enough to push him off the fence, to finally see right and wrong. But no, as she should've foreseen, snakes only look out for themselves.

"See, that's where we're different Theo," she said as she stood off the sofa. "I would never be that selfish enough to protect myself when I know I could stop the hurt of others. That's why I left the Inquisitorial Squad, and you should've left with me like you said you would. But you were weak then, just like you are now."

She started to walk away, but knowing this could've potentially been the last time she spoke to him, she turned back and told him her inner thoughts—her deepest wish for him that she hoped would come true.

"I really do hope that you wake up one day Theo," she said with sadness, "and even more so, I hope that when you do...it's not too late."

She left the tent and headed behind it to where the boys were waiting. As she approached them, Fred quickly put something back into his rucksack.

"How did it go?" asked Charlie as he saw her coming.

"A complete waste of time," she huffed.

"Oh, if only someone would've told you that," said Fred mockingly.

Isobel ignored Fred's I told you so. "Let's just get out of here."

"Wait," Theo's voice shouted from behind. He had come out of the tent and had started running towards her. "I don't know where she is exactly," he panted, "and that's the honest truth, but I do know that the Dark Lord has been using the homes of his closest followers to house prisoners. If I were you, I'd look into that."

"Do you have a list of names?" Fred asked abruptly.

Theo hesitated at the sight of the Weasley brothers. Old habits really did die hard. His eyes went down to Isobel, and she saw his feet step backwards.

"Trust me, I don't want to work with them either, but we're stuck together," Isobel told him. "They want to help Luna; we're a team; if you trust me, you have to trust them too."

Theo was still reluctant, but he nodded his head understandably. Charlie pulled out the map from his pocket and turned it around the blank side whilst Isobel transfigured a nearby twig on the floor into a quill.

"Go on," she said as she got ready to write.

Theo read off a list of names and Isobel wrote them down in order. There were some names she had heard before on the radio, as well as all the names of the Slytherin families, but then there were some that she had never heard of before in her life.

"But I swear," said Theo once he was finished, "if you mention my name at all-"

"You're going to kill me," Isobel interrupted, tucking the piece of parchment in her pockets, "I get it, but thank you. Thank you for actually stepping up."

"It's okay," said Theo, who seemed rather depressed about the situation. "I just wish you came to see me because you missed me and not for a shit reason like this. I do miss the talks we used to have."

"Me too," said Isobel, who was more adjusted to the cruelness of the modern world than he was. "If only we weren't separated by politics, huh?"

Theo reached forward and held her arm, and she tried to hide it, but he touched one of the rope burns and it hurt. "I never saw you as muggle-born, you know that right?" he told her earnestly. "You were always just Izzy to me."

Isobel touched his hand with hers and stroked it with her thumb. She couldn't say too much without giving the twins serious ammunition for later, but she hoped this gesture would tell Theo all that he needed to know.

"Just free the innocent people, alright?" she said kindly. "You're enough by yourself. You don't have to buy people's attention."

With that, she stepped away from him, and the Weasley brothers followed her. They entered the main arena again, and the three of them grouped under a birch tree. Theo was long gone when Isobel looked over her shoulder.

"So what do we do?" George asked. "Do we just go to these houses one by one?"

"I guess we have to," said Isobel. That last interaction had really affected her.

"We'll break in; we can cover multiple houses in a day," said Fred, "or is that too goody-goody for you both?"

Isobel looked at the crowd. Even Theo, who was on the weaker side of Death Eater politics, was playing with muggles for entertainment. It was even worse as you got up the hierarchy, and he was right - soon, it would be dangerous for her to be in the country at all. She had to save Luna quickly, and now was not the time to play by the rules.

"I don't care if we break every previous little heirloom in their houses," said Isobel. "We'll break in, threaten, extort. I don't care. I just want this over with."

Both Fred and George were stunned and just stared at her plainly. Fred appeared speechless for the first time since she'd known him.

"Then I'm with her," said Charlie, who was riled up by Isobel's speech. "Let's all thank the Miraculous Mr Nott, as now we've got some Death Eaters to scare."

Chapter Text

Isobel sat on the window sill of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and clung an old blanket she had found to her body. It was two in the morning, and she had woken up from a nightmare where Draco had tortured her for information on the Weasleys. Seeing Theo earlier that day had brought up so many memories, ones that she hadn't hoped to revisit for the rest of her life, and her brain was full of old stories that confused her more than Theo's actions had. She had been glad that he had done the right thing and given them the information, but the underlying hints of what was coming from the dark side did not fill her with contentment. Theo had warned her, and the sense of urgency was enforced again - soon, it wouldn't be safe for any muggle-born.

She needed to find Luna and get out quickly.

The stress caused her right ribs to jolt her in pain, and she clutched it immediately with a wince. She never got used to this sudden surprise, and every time it appeared to remind her of the accident - it was like it was the first time it happened.

"Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Charlie asked from behind. He was standing on the shop floor in his thin blue dressing gown, his bedhead showing that he had only recently woken up.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Isobel replied. "It's just an old scar; it plays up a bit sometimes. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep, noticed you weren't here and came to find you," said Charlie, and he sat on the ledge beside her, "where is it, on your ribs?"

"Yeah, it just needs a massage now and then," said Isobel as she rubbed the scar gently, "I think it just flares up when I'm stressed."

"Well, I can take a look; I deal with burns and scars all the time," he said, gesturing for her to lift her nightshirt.

She looked at him curiously and shook her head. The last thing she needed was for Fred or George to also have insomnia and walk in on him rubbing her up late at night. "No, honestly, it's fine."

"This hasn't got any other intentions behind it other than to help", said Charlie, noticing her uneasiness, "I have healing hands, and we can't have you being injured when it gets to the point of breaking the Lovegoods out."

Charlie did have stronger hands than hers, and it wasn't the same when she did it as someone else.  She didn't have the proper pressure, and the pain was getting worse. Perhaps it was worth a try if it was strictly medical intentions...and he was quick.

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly, "but don't look. You'll get a slap if I see you sneak a peek."

"You have my word," he said charmingly and then she shuffled around so that her right-hand side was facing him. She looked down as he slid his warm hands up her nightdress and felt the scar. She was so embarrassed. It was the first time a stranger had felt it, and it made her feel self-concious. It covered the entirety of her side, and though it was mainly under the skin now, you could still feel the stitches from when they had been put in. 

"So...how did you get it?" he asked, his hands moving clockwise. "The scar?"

"It's complicated," she said, refusing to look at him, "I got hurt in the same place twice."

"Twice?" Charlie laughed, "Are you that unlucky?"

"Yeah, I'd be better off getting struck by lightning," she sighed, trying to make a joke out of it.

"Can I hear about it? I have many stories to trade with," Charlie asked her.

Charlie lifted his trousers with his free hand to expose his left calf, and Isobel glanced down to look. A tattoo of a Chinese firebolt covered it, but Isobel could see lumps of skin that had been sown up by stitches underneath.

"Ironic, but this was when a baby dragon didn't take too kindly to me clipping its toenails," Charlie laughed as the memory humoured him, "it bit me, so I got a tattoo of its mum to cover it up. I think it's quite dashing."

"You raise babies?" Isobel asked him. She forgot how awkward she felt when he touched her and looked at him normally, no longer embarrassed. 

"Oh yeah, we're trying to repopulate some endangered species," Charlie answered. "It's the best part of the job, except for riding them."

"I bet that must feel awesome."

"There's no other feeling like it. You pair with them, and you have to make a real connection; otherwise they'll chuck you right off. However, once you have that bond, you have it for life. I think you'd love it."

It sounded wonderful. She had never seen a baby dragon, only the fully grown ones the champions had competed with at the Triwizard Tournament. She and Cedric spent weeks after that trying to determine what the egg clue meant. "I hope I get to try it one day," she said with a faint smile.

"You'll have to visit me in Romania sometime," Charlie told her. "I'll train you up and show you the ropes—you'll be flying in no time."

"Is that a formal invitation?" she asked him. She felt his hands push into her slightly as she said this.

He looked up at her, and their eyes met, his smile growing as she showed interest. "It might be..." he said, "so...you've heard one of my stories; now it's your turn to spill."

Isobel hadn't wanted to share the story, but Charlie made her comfortable. This struck her as the type of conversation friends would have in the darkest part of the night. A secret that would be forgotten by morning. 

"It's a bit longer than yours," she joked. "And you might not like it."

"And as I've told you before, I am very happy to listen," he replied, "however long or horrible it may be. I'm sure it is fascinating." 

And so, Isobel began telling the story.

"It happened in my third year, at the Quidditch House Cup Final...."

***

It was the first Saturday after the Easter Holidays, and Isobel had been up since five a.m. She hardly slept when she attempted to, so she dressed and sat in the common room, watching the fire burn silently until sunrise. As soon as she knew the Great Hall would start serving breakfast, she jumped up and walked straight there. It wasn't out of hunger, just in deep desperation for something to do to distract her mind. She was the most nervous she had been for a match all year.

"The early bird gets the worm!" said Professor Flitwick as he greeted her entering the Great Hall. "Good luck for today!"

"Thank you, professor," Isobel replied to him, giving the illusion of calmness. "And thanks for giving me an extended deadline on that jinx essay—it's helped me get much more training in."

"Oh, it's nothing. You'll score highly on it anyway, and anything to help Ravenclaw win its first House Cup in years!"

Flitwick was only excitable, but as she said goodbye to him and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, Isobel's deepest thoughts were growing increasingly with dread. There was a lot of pressure riding on this game. Ravenclaw hadn't won a single cup since she had been at Hogwarts - and this match could change that. To make things worse, they were up against the reigning champions...Gryffindor. There had been rumbles around the castle, and though no one would say it to their faces, all the houses were sick of them winning all the time. Even Slytherin House members had wished her good luck leading up to that week, hoping that a different colour would reign triumphant over the Great Hall at the final feast.

"Up early, I like it," said Roger Davies as he slammed his plate on the table. "You ready for today then Iz?"

It broke Isobel out of her daze. She had been staring at a piece of toast on her plate for twenty minutes.

"Um...yeah...yeah, of course," said Isobel. She put her face in her shaking hands and brushed her dark hair back. "I'm just a bit nervous, that's all."

"Nah, don't worry about it," he said, chewing his full English breakfast like he wouldn't be racing across a Quidditch Pitch in an hour, "it'll be an easy game. We know all their tricks and have our best weapon - you. Just score like you normally do, and we'll be fine. Jason and Duncan will keep those Weasley prats away from you."

Oh god. She hadn't even thought about that. She had never played Gryffindor before, and the Weasley twins were notorious beaters. They mucked around - but they had precision, hitting their targets every time.

"Sounds great," said Isobel, pushing away her plate. There was now zero chance that she would be hungry.

"No, come on, girl, you've got to eat," said Cho Chang as she slipped onto the bench beside her. "I'm not going to have Diggory on my back for your fainting off your broom just because you've got a case of the nerves - I want to see at least two slices going down you - with eggs or jam, I don't care, but you're not leaving until I see you eat."

She was already ready in her Quidditch robes, and her long black hair was pulled into a tight and compact bun. Even with all the hair off her face, she was still insanely pretty.

"Alright, okay," said Isobel, and she put a small corner of the toast into her mouth, "talking of Cedric, have you seen him-"

"Hey!" said Cedric as he came up behind them. He wrapped his arms around Isobel and Cho and kissed Cho on the cheek, which she briefly dodged. They were still trying to keep their relationship low-key, but Cedric sometimes got too happy. "Good luck today, girls. Do me proud, and teach those Gryffindors a thing or two—and don't forget Iz, if you win—it's partially a Hufflepuff win because I trained you. Okay, bye, good luck!"

He came and left like a whirlwind, leaving her and Cho windswept. The two girls couldn't help but smile.

"He's in a good mood," said Isobel.

"He's always in a good mood," Cho replied. "Now come on, eat up—I want that plate clean, Monroe. It's up to you and me to win this thing. We can't trust the boys to do it."

"Hey!" Roger said as he gulped down some pumpkin juice. Jessica just laughed, but that didn't help relieve any pressure. Something in her gut told her that something would happen out there.

An hour later, Isobel was dressed in blue and grey Quidditch robes and floated above the crowd, waiting for Madame Hooch to blow the whistle to start the game. It was Blues against Reds, Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw, and she was opposite the Gryffindor chaser Katie Bell. Whatever nerves she had experienced the whole morning and the night before had vanished instantly. The pitch was her safe place, and she wanted to win it home for her house. If she could win this for her team, her whole life at Hogwarts would be smooth sailing from here on in.

"Now let's make this final the good game that I know you two teams can make it - clean, rule-following, and most importantly...fun," Madame Hooch shouted. "On my whistle...three...two...one...begin!"

"And the Quaffle is released!" shouted the cheerful tones of the commentator Lee Jordan, his dreadlocks sparkling with golden rings for the special occasion, "Roger Davies catches it immediately, a good early start for Ravenclaw! He's flying for the goal, oh no- he's been hit by a bludger from George Weasley...nasty stuff- but Ravenclaw's hopes are not lost; no Isobel Monroe catches the Quaffle from below, and she heads to the goalposts; she shoots, and she scores!"

Most of the stadium erupted in applause, and Isobel lost her hearing in her left ear for a few seconds. Her first goal meant that she could relax, and she quickly eased into the game with adrenaline pumping through her veins. It wasn't easy, Gryffindor were a good team. But so were they. The Quaffle was constantly changing hands so much that even Lee Jordan couldn't keep up with it - but he still tried to make sure that the crowd didn't miss a minute. 

"Katie Bell has possession of the Quaffle; she's racing towards Alicia Spinnet, but oh no, she's been hit by a bludger sent by Jason Samuel from Ravenclaw. It's grim, but that's why we are here, folks. Jeremy Stretton is now in possession of the Quaffle and he's nearly the goalposts, flying tightly behind is Isobel Monroe, the youngest member of team, he's flying, he's flying, and he's gone! A double attack from Fred and George Weasley means that the Quaffle has been knocked straight out of Stretton's hands. Does he have a broken wrist? I guess we'll find out later. But oh! In a shock twist, it isn't a Gryffindor player picking up the pieces; it's Isobel Monroe, and with the opposing team caught off guard, she sneaks up to the goalposts and - ANOTHER TEN POINTS FOR RAVENCLAW!"

Isobel was able to celebrate, but from then on, her two points were enough to make her a target for the entire Gryffindor team - except for Harry Potter, who was busy racing Cho for the snitch. For the next ten minutes or so of the match, Isobel couldn't move; she always had at least one member of Gryffindor by her side. Angelina Johnson especially wouldn't let her out of her sight.

"And Davies drops the Quaffle, which means Katie Bell takes over and scores!"

"Monroe has the Quaffle but is blocked in by Johnson and Spinnet. It's a tight tunnel, but can she escape it? Apparently not, as she's forced to shoot too off-side. Possession to Gryffindor!"

"The score is now 120-110 to Ravenclaw; one more goal and a hattrick from Angelina Johnson is all they need for Gryffindor to be neck and neck for the victory."

"Come on, guys, they're catching up. We need to break a lead just in case Cho gets beaten to the snitch," Roger Davies shouted to his teammates whilst a break had been called to check on Olliver Wood's ankle after an hour of play. He had been too energetic and attempted to stop a bludger with his foot. If there was one thing about Oliver Wood that Isobel knew to be sure, it was that he was crazy when he played Quidditch. He turned into a daredevil. 

"We're trying, but they're all over us," argued Jeremy Stretton, their fellow chaser, "the Weasleys are being as vicious as ever, and they keep blocking Izzie."

"It's true, they're really on me today," Isobel panted, "and Angelina won't leave my side."

She was now breaking a sweat, which was unusual for her. 

"Well, of course, you're our best scorer," said Roger. "If she keeps you offside, you'll never be able to get past Oliver. It's genius."

"We just need to get her off me," said Isobel. "She's tough. I can dodge the Weasleys."

"We need to sacrifice someone," said Jeremy. "We need to put someone in the firing line so they get hit with whatever, and Izzie gets off free. I don't mind it being me."

"No," said Roger, "it'll be me, I'm the Captain. Just stick by me, Iz, and I'll get you the Quaffle. Just don't get hurt; we can't win without you."

Madame Hooch blew the whistle to signify that Oliver Wood had been cleared to play, and all the players on the pitch re-centred for kick-off.

"...And  Monroe  rejoins the game behind  Davies  as they fly in an arrow towards Angelina Johnson. Jason Samuel and Duncan Inglebee fly above them, aiming two bludgers at the Gryffindor Captain whilst Potter and  Chang  each race each other for the snitch...both Weasleys save Johnson by batting the bludgers away in the same direction to...oh my...oh merlin...they' re going to hit- !"

A bludger came hurtling in Isobel's direction as she flew slightly ahead of Roger Davies to chase the Quaffle, hitting her on the side. She was pushed straight off her broom and immediately fell through the air. It was too quick. She couldn't grab her broom or reach for her wand. There was nothing she could do.

She didn't remember much after hitting the ground. She may have passed out, or the fall could've given her temporary amnesia, but the next thing she could recall was waking up in the hospital wing the next day. It was a grey morning, weather she liked, and she awoke with crisp white sheets wrapped around her body as strands of her dark hair lay alongside her on the pillow.

"Oh, Miss Monroe!" gasped Madame Pomfrey as she noticed her stirring while attending to another patient. She dropped the poor first-years pumpkin juice and rushed to Isobel's bedside. "How are you feeling Poppet?"

"Like I've been run over by a double-decker bus," Isobel struggled to say as her mind tried to stabilise into normal function.

"Okay, well, let's try getting you sat up," said Madame Pomfrey. She came to Isobel's side and placed both hands under her armpits, gently tugging on them to lift her.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Isobel complained, clenching her right rib. The most unbearable amount of pain had just been unleashed from them. "No, that hurts!"

"Oh dear, you need more medicine," said Madame Pomfrey, "I'll be right back."

She left Isobel slouched on her pillow in a half-upright, half-lying-down position and rushed to the back room to grab something. Isobel began to curl over in pain, and she lifted the nightdress Madame Pomfrey had put her in. She was astonished to see that a dark maroon-coloured bruise stretched from the side of her ribs to the top of her pelvis. It was as if she had the worst case of sunburn that had ever existed. It was painful to the touch, and any movement troubled it.

"Okay, have this," said Madame Pomfrey, handing her a glass of water. Isobel took it and inhaled a big gulp, only to spit it straight out again because of its disgusting taste.

"What the hell is that?" Isobel asked her.

"Language!" said Mrs Pomfrey offendedly, "its Skelegrow."

"Why would I need-"

"Oh my god, Isobel!"

Cedric Diggory ran into the hospital wing, leaving the door open just long enough for Luna Lovegood to follow him. He was wearing his Hufflepuff robes with his tie hanging loose around his neck, and quite frankly - he looked as if he hadn't slept a minute of sleep. Luna, on the other hand, appeared her usual self.

"You're awake!" He smiled and bent over her bedside to hug her, though he had to go down quite far because she couldn't move. It made her wince, but she didn't care.

"Be careful with her boy," warned Madame Pomfrey, though this was in a friendly manner as she was pretty fond of him, "she needs to finish her medicine."

"Oh, sorry," Cedric apologised as he stepped away.

"What happened? Did we win? Are the others okay?" Isobel asked. Now she was conscious, she was desperate for news.

"Um...the others are okay, but you kind of lost," said Luna.

"Oh no, are they mad?"

"No, not at all!" said Cedric, stepping in front of Luna and sitting on Isobel's bed beside her. "They just care about you getting better! They send their well wishes."

Luna stayed silent but looked unnerved by what Cedric was saying.

"Oh phew," Isobel said with relief, "but before I down that vile liquid, why do I need skelegrow for a bruise?"

"You mean you don't know?" Luna asked before Madame Pomfrey could speak.

Isobel turned her attention to her best friend. "Know what?" she asked.

"Yeah, what?" Cedric asked further.

"Well, the bludger hit you pretty hard, Iz," Luna started to explain, "and the angle it hit you, plus how fast you were flying...I could only imagine..."

"It broke your ribs," Madame Pomfrey interrupted. As the hospital wing's matron, she would not let Luna have that knowledgeable moment.

"It broke my ribs?" Isobel exasperated.

"Only on your right side," said Madame Pomfrey quickly, "luckily, I got to you in time. Your ribs will grow back, but I'm afraid that bruise will be with you for a while."

Isobel sank further into her pillow—broken ribs. Bludgers had broken her ribs.

"Oh my god," said Cedric, "and how long will it take for her to recover?"

"It's hard to say. Every case is different," said Madame Pomfrey. "But at least for the rest of the term."

"Well, at least Quidditch is out of the way until next year, huh," Isobel muttered sadly, "I can still do my schoolwork from here."

"Will she be able to walk?" Luna asked Madame Pomfrey.

"Oh yes, of course. Give it a couple of days, and she'll be able to get around," Madame Pomfrey reassured her.

Cedric looked down at the side table next to Isobel's bed. As always, it had a jug of water and a vase with a single daffodil, but that was it. Visitors had not placed cards or presents there like the other patients.

"Has anyone else been up here to see her? Whilst she's been asleep, I mean," Cedric questioned.

Madame Pomfrey considered it. "No, I don't think so...though it has only been a day. I'm sure people were waiting until she was awake."

Isobel knew Madame Pomfrey was trying to be optimistic, but it just felt off to her. Why hadn't her teammates come to see her? Or anyone else, for that matter?

"Oh, except for Professor Lupin," said Madame Pomfrey, "he visited yesterday just before sundown."

Isobel felt happy about that.

"Right. Would you mind if I just spoke to you for a second?" Cedric asked Madame Pomfrey.

She nodded and told Isobel to finish the rest of her skelegrow before walking with him to the entrance doors. They had a quiet discussion whilst Luna came to the head of her bed.

"I'm sorry, Iz," Luna said as she stroked Isobel's hair out of her face. "I wish there was something I could do.”

"You don't think your dad could send over some of his books on healing, could he?" Isobel joked through the pain, "because I'm sure as hell not having this bruise plastered on me for the rest of my life."

"Can I see it?" Luna asked excitedly. She was never affected by gore and was merely fascinated by it.

"Sure."

Isobel lifted her dress again so Luna could see, and she got a few good stares in before Madame Pomfrey came hovering over again. Only this time, she was alone.

"Where's Cedric?" Isobel asked.

"Oh, he had to go off somewhere," said Madame Pomfrey. "For heaven's sake, girl, drink your medicine - those bones won't grow back by themselves!"

***

"So, what happened after that?" Charlie asked as he continued to massage her.

"Well," Isobel sighed, "Cedric had lied. The Ravenclaw team was unhappy about me putting myself in harm's way by flying faster than Roger, and they didn't speak to me until the start of the next term. They thought I was glory hunting, but it was an accident. I couldn't help but be faster than he was. I wasn't close friends with them ever again—especially Cho Chang. She took a permanent disliking to me for some reason."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"You try telling them that."

"And what about the injury - I'm guessing you healed quickly?"

"You guessed wrong. I didn't heal for months. To this day, I'm still not one hundred per cent - that's why I get flare-ups like this."

"Oh," said Charlie sadly, "I'm sorry. I couldn't imagine going out like that in a Championship game. You had another chance, though, right?"

"I didn't, no," said Isobel, scratching the wood as she began to get irritated with the retelling of the story, "which brings me to the end of it. I didn't learn this until later, but Cedric asked Madame Pomfrey privately if the injury would affect my Quidditch career. She answered yes if the bruise and bones didn't heal properly together. He asked her what chance I had, and she said about ten per cent.

"Well, that's still a decent chance," said Charlie.

"It is, but it wasn't good enough for Cedric," she said. "He was angry—so angry—even more than I was when I found out. What made it worse was that he had seen nobody had come to visit me, which means the people who did it hadn't come to apologise."

"So Fred and George, right?" Charlie asked. "They didn't even come to say sorry?"

His face expressed disappointment in his brothers.

"It didn't look like it," said Isobel, "and the one thing Cedric hated was people being disrespectful, and he saw that as disrespectful - not owning up to something they'd done. They didn't even get punished for it either, as we only knew the extent of my injuries weeks after the match. Gryffindor were allowed to win the championship. So when he left the hospital wing that morning, he was furious with the feeling of injustice."

"What did he do?" he asked.

"He searched the halls and grounds of Hogwarts until he found them. Gave them a right earful. I don't know how the conversation went, he never told me the specifics, too embarrassed I suppose - but I do know that Fred must have said something for Cedric to tip him over the edge...because Cedric punched him straight in the face."

Charlie's face reached forward in shock. "He didn't."

"He did. Right there in the courtyard for everyone to see. He didn't care if the teachers saw him, and he got detention because of it until the end of the year. That's why he wanted to prove himself in the Triwizard Tournament, to redeem himself."

"Well," said Charlie, having now heard the whole story, "don't tell him I said this, but it sounds like Fred might have deserved it. Cedric seemed like a top bloke; I only met him briefly, but from what you said, he seemed a good guy."

Isobel was surprised that he had agreed with her. However, she had already seen the differences between him and his brothers, and he seemed much more mature. "He was."

"And Fred didn't even apologise after that?"

He seemed pretty confused that even Fred would act that bad.

"Nope," she said, her scar now lessening in pain the more Charlie touched her, "and honestly, I don't think it's even worth it now. I never fully recovered, I never got to play Quidditch again, and I only picked up a broom for the first time a couple of weeks ago. His apology wouldn't mean anything now."

"Damn," said Charlie, leaning into her further as they became more familiar with each other, "Well, it makes more sense as to why you act like that around him now."

"It's funny," said Isobel with a deflated chuckle, leaning into him also as she whispered a secret, "I wouldn't have minded, you know if he had said sorry. Or George, for that matter. I was willing to forgive; I knew it wasn't entirely their fault. But then they both acted like it never happened, that they had never hurt me. I don't know if it's that they didn't know the extent of my injuries or that they didn't care - but I expected something. I know they're your brothers, but I'm with Cedric; I can't respect people who don't take responsibility. That's where the...dislike for them came from. And it just got worse from there."

Charlie didn't respond, he was just staring at her, and Isobel stopped laughing as she realized she may have taken the gossiping far. They were still family; he would never fully side with her—just like most of the students at Hogwarts did.

"Anyways," she said, looking down at Charlie's lips as she didn't want to look him in the eye, "I've said too much, we better get some sleep-"

Charlie grazed her cheek with his hand and cupped her chin. Isobel couldn't grasp what he was doing until his lips were on hers, the night breeze making them feel fresh. He was kissing her. A Weasley was kissing her. And she weirdly...didn't mind it.

"What was that for?" she asked as Charlie pulled away.

He shrugged, a grin slowly growing across his face. "Vulnerability looks good on you, Monroe. You should show it more."

Chapter Text

Knock. Knock.

Silence. So they tried again.

Knock. Knock.

"Hello? Is anyone home?! We'd love to talk to you about our new products!"

More silence.

Knock. Knock.

No answer.

"Okay, I don't think anyone's in. Will you do the honours?"

"Of course, Alohamora."

Isobel and Charlie watched from behind a tall brick wall at the bottom of the garden as Fred and George entered the house of Goyle - the family home of Gregory Goyle and his Death Eater parents. It was an overcast day, which wasn't unusual for an English summer day in August, and the grey sky made a perfect cover for two ginger men to sneak in the front door unnoticed. This was hardly the place Isobel had imagined Goyle would live in. It was more of a brick cottage than a large mansion, and they were at least a couple of kilometres from the closest village. She assumed they must have liked their privacy - as they were a family with many hidden secrets.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked as she shuddered alongside a breeze of the wind.

"Yeah," Isobel replied, standing on her tiptoes to look over the wall. "I'm just cold."

She pulled the sides of her cardigan closer to her chest and kept her eyes on the house's door. This was the first break-in they had done, and she was nervous about how they would pull it off. Fred and George were winging it. All Goyle needed to do was come home and it would all be over before it had even begun.

"I don't mean like that," he said, "ever since last night, you seem a bit...off with me."

After waking up that morning, Isobel found that she felt slightly awkward around Charlie. It's not that she regretted the kiss - she was glad it had happened - it was just that she suddenly didn't know how to act around him. Before, when it was just flirtation, she could handle it, but now that he had returned the affection, it had become something real that she would have to deal with. The truth was, she didn't have much experience with boys, especially not older ones. Not one that was brother to her enemies either. Their situation was complicated enough without romance getting in the way. She couldn't even look him in the eye, and when he gently put his hand on her back as he handed her the teapot at breakfast, she jumped so sharply that the pot almost fell straight out of her hands.

"I'm just nervous," Isobel replied, again avoiding his gaze. "I don't want them to get caught."

Charlie laughed, and Isobel thought it was his attempt at waving the awkwardness away. "Since when did you care about my brothers getting caught?"

Isobel appreciated him trying to lighten the mood, but there was another reason other than him that distracted her. Her being nervous wasn't a lie. Draco had given her two days, and today was that second day. She didn't know what would happen; all she knew was that she had to have enough confidence in their mission to say no to Draco's offer. It was unsure what time he would come or where he would be, so time was of the essence. Hopefully, Theo's list of names would get them one step closer to finding out where Luna and Xeno were.

"You know, about last night...," said Charlie, who clearly only had one thing on his mind compared to Isobel's hundreds, "if it's that you've changed your mind about it-"

"Charlie, stop," said Isobel, and she came out of her thoughts long enough to turn her head to him. His tanned skin appeared brighter underneath the dull weather, and the wind gently swayed his long hair at his shoulders. She rarely used this word to describe men, but he was gorgeous. "I haven't changed my mind," she smiled, touching his hand at their sides.

Charlie returned her smile as a tiny spark of blue fireworks emerged from the cottage chimney above them, and Isobel was relieved that she could finally move and start doing something. She stepped away from the wall and walked up the path to the house through the gate, Charlie following with his wand out behind, and they both entered through the door into the living room.

Though the outside was average for a wealthy family, the inside was nothing short of grand. Mahogany staircases with rusted gold handles, old ornate furniture that looked uncomfortable, and small chandeliers covered in dust. It gave the impression that people wanted to show off their social hierarchy but were too lazy to keep it in pristine condition. This was old money, and everything had been passed down through the Goyle family tree.

"Looks like someone died in here," said George as he lifted a ruched pillow to his nose. He took one sniff and threw it back down. "Smells like it too."

Fred rolled up the sleeves of his red shirt as he opened the first compartment in a large set of Chester draws and started rummaging through it. "Yeah, I don't know what I expected from a family of murdering bigots, but they're not exactly organised, are they? This is a mess."

"Well, so is Goyle," said Isobel as she looked around the room. It was interesting how seeing the home of someone gave you so much context as to why they are the way they are. Goyle looked the part on the outside - your stereotypical bully with not much going on up there - but deep down, she saw a boy who had no beliefs of his own, who was always going with the crowd and didn't know who he was outside of that. He never put much effort into anything. His parents seemed to have the same approach to keeping up appearances.

"So where do we start?" asked Charlie. "We probably don't have much time until someone returns here."

"Well, Monroe, you know them best," said Fred as he lifted a strang pole-like object from the drawer, "where do you think we should look?"

"Um, I think his dad has an office; there might be some clues in there," she told him as she thought about it, "and I can always check his room; he might have letters from his friends that might say something."

"Been up there before, I assume?" asked Fred under his breath. George smirked but kept an eye on Isobel, and Charlie glared at him disapprovingly.

"Funny," said Isobel in a mocking tone, resting her hands against the sofa, "you accuse me of being a virgin one minute and then accuse me of sleeping with every member of Slytherin House the next. Pick one, Weasley. Am I frigid or a slut in your eyes?"

Fred said nothing and kept scavenging through the Goyle's bookkeeping. He didn't have a witty answer to come back to her with. 

"You two go and find the office, and Iz and I will search the bedroom," said Charlie sternly. All humour was taken out of his expression at Fred's comment. "Shout if you find something, and don't break or steal anything."

Annoyed that once again Fred had insinuated something untrue, Isobel delightfully accepted Charlie's plan and turned her back to walk upstairs. She didn't know what Goyle's room looked like, but she assumed it would be one on the second floor, so she opened each door to peak through and eliminate options. All the rooms upstairs were just as drab as those below it, with slim, unwelcoming furniture and the smell of old mothballs scenting the halls. Nothing was exciting; there was no essence of fun or signs that this was a family home. It was very functional, a house to sleep in, and that was it. Eventually, they got to the last room in the hall, and Isobel opened the door. Its handle was slightly broken and loose, which should have prepared her for what was inside.

It was a tiny box room with miserable navy walls. Inside, there was only a single bed, a small desk and chair, and a tall wardrobe barely the width of herself. There was nothing else. No pictures of Goyle, his friends, his family, or anything personal suggesting a young adult had lived here since they were born. It was clinically clean, and everything was in its place. It was not the bedroom of someone who felt like this was home.

"Is this the right room?" Charlie asked as the pair stepped in through the door. The doorway was so narrow that he had to bend down.

"I think so," she said. No other room could've been it. There was only one other bedroom, and it was his parents' —but why had he been given the smallest room in the house?

"Well, it's nothing like my room as a kid," Charlie chuckled as he scraped the top of the desk with his finger and found a lack of dust. "You would've hated it. You could barely see the floor—clothes everywhere."

"That's assuming I would've even been there in the first place," Isobel replied as her attention was drawn to the wardrobe. She opened the doors and saw that only a few pieces of clothing were hung up there. His Hogwarts uniform had a couple of identical items for repetitive use: two pairs of black trousers and three dress shirts, and then the Slytherin tie, which was hung up with pride. Beneath them, there were two pairs of shoes, one set of dress shoes and one set of trainers. Isobel was used to seeing him in jumpers and jeans on weekends at Hogwarts, so she was surprised that none of that attire was here. It didn't seem to make sense.

Charlie came up behind her, and a tall shadow cast over the clothes. "Are you saying you wouldn't have wanted to be in my room?"

Isobel turned around and closed the doors, leaning back on them for support. "No," she said, teasingly poking his chest, "I'm saying given the fact that I hadn't even had my first trip to Ollivanders yet when you were leaving the Burrow - I don't think it's a stretch to say I wouldn't have been invited up there."

She pushed herself off the wardrobe and walked around him to get to Goyle's desk to search some more.

"Well, it's a good thing we're both grown-ups now then," said Charlie, and he followed her over, placing two hands on either side of her on the desk and leaning into her ear. "So you haven't been able to stop thinking about last night either, or is it just me?"

Isobel felt the heat from his breath and his body close behind her. It gave her goosebumps.

"Funnily enough, I've been a little preoccupied," she told him playfully, "my friends being kidnapped by Death Eaters and all."

"Well, you can't keep all that stress in. I think you need a little distraction," Charlie whispered in jest in her ear.

"Oh, and let me guess, you can be that distraction," she asked him, eyebrow raised.

Charlie tilted his head and kissed her lightly on her neck. "I can be anything you need me to be."

Isobel began to feel flushed at his touch, and what was even more unusual was that the element of getting caught in this house by his brothers, who hated her, made her feel even more excited. "Well be careful. I'm the slut of Ravenclaw house according to your brother."

"Yeah," Charlie said, "but as I've learned, when are they right about anything?"

Charlie clutched his hands around her waist and spun her around. They were both now face to face, and though Isobel badly wanted to get this search over with, she couldn't resist the feeling of adrenaline Charlie gave her. Only a second went by before his lips were on hers, and they were kissing in her ex-friend's bedroom like they were teenagers at a party. Charlie's hands were slippery, as expected given his age, but Isobel's were quicker. She stopped them in their tracks before they got too far south. However, that didn't stop him from surprising her with a brief trip up north, which she couldn't deny didn't make her feel good.

"Okay, maybe you can be a little distraction," she breathed as she gasped for air.

"We didn't find anything!" George shouted as footsteps were heard walking up the stairs.

"Yeah, we're coming to help search up here!" said Fred.

Charlie and Isobel pushed themselves away from each other like two magnets with opposing forces. They ended up on opposite sides of the small room and stood still like statues, both of their long haircuts slightly out of place.

"Hey guys...," said Fred as he saw them and observed their awkward spacing, "...what's going on in here?"

"What does it look like we're doing?" said Charlie, "we're searching for stuff, just like you."

"Right...," said George as he entered, "and have you found anything?"

"Not yet, have you?" Isobel asked.

"We just said we didn't," said Fred, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, "what's going on here, were you two-"

"We're investigating," said Charlie firmly, "and you should be too."

Isobel was amazed that Charlie had spoken to him in such a way. Fred was too, as he looked at her to see if she would give anything away. She crossed her arms and gave him a confident stare, though her heart still raced underneath her chest.

"Right, well, we'll just be across the hallway then," he said. He left with George just behind, giving them an equally curious glare.

When they had gone, Isobel and Charlie looked at each other and smiled, quietly laughing as they walked back together.

"That was close," Charlie laughed.

"A little too close," Isobel whispered, "we can't risk them catching us."

"Well, would it be so bad?" he asked.

"They're my ticket to finding Luna and Xeno. The Order wouldn't let us come otherwise," she told him, her smile twitching quickly into seriousness. "If they find out we're messing around, they'll leave, and I can't have that."

"Okay, fine," he tutted flirtatiously, "our little secret."

A smile still on her face, Isobel left Charlie and decided to examine the desk - whilst he decided to look under the bed. "Trust me, I know where a teenage boy hides things," he said when she looked at him funny. It didn't make her feel as in awe of his detective skills as he may have thought it did.

Three small drawers were attached to the desk, all with scratched handles that looked like the ends of bottle openers. She pulled the first one out, and there was a quill, an ink bottle, and a couple of pages of blank parchment. Then she opened the second one, and it was a struggle to do so - because it was filled to the brim with letters. The address was written on many of them, the handwriting of which she recognised as his fellow Slytherin classmates, but there was one that particularly caught her eye. It had a black seal with a large 'M' engraved on the back. It looked official, but it was unopened.

"Do you recognise this symbol?" Isobel asked Charlie as she took the envelope out of the drawer.

Charlie stood up from looking over the bed and walked over to her. "It looks like it's from the Ministry," he said.

"Good, so you're thinking what I'm thinking," said Isobel.

"But why would they be writing to a seventeen-year-old?"

"He's not just any seventeen-year-old," Isobel replied, and she knew immediately that they had to see what was inside. She just needed help undoing a letter without showing any evidence that it had happened. "I think I found something!"

At her call, Fred and George reappeared in an instant.

"What is it?" asked George.

"It's a letter from the Ministry to Goyle," Isobel explained, showing them the wax seal.

"Why would they be writing to that stonehead?" Fred asked.

"Exactly what I thought," said Charlie.

"I think it might have information - if not about Luna, about things the Ministry is planning," said Isobel, "but Goyle can't see that we've touched it."

"Ah, I see," said Fred, who now appeared particularly smug as he leant against the door with his arms crossed, "and you want our help to make the contents slip out seamlessly."

"Well, you have a knack for sticking your nose in other people's business," Isobel replied sassily. "So, can you do it?"

"Yeah," said Fred as he clicked his tongue and seethed his teeth, "but you're going to have to ask."

"I just did."

"No, you didn't," he quipped, leaning towards her with the aura of someone who knew they had the upper hand. "I want to hear a please."

"You're not gonna get one," Isobel shrugged.

"Then no letter."

"George, please," said Charlie as he tried to convince Fred's only supporter. "You know how to do it, too. Just help us out."

"Oh, I'm not depriving Fred of this moment," said George, pointing to himself. "Isobel Monroe begging us for help? This is rarer than Percy saying something of actual interest."

Charlie huffed at his brother's stubbornness. Though they were his younger brothers, there was no way he could tell them what to do. 

"Fine," said Isobel, deciding the high road was better for the greater good of her friend. Her teeth gritted as she struggled to push out the words. "Please, may you help open it?"

Fred grinned victoriously, which made her feel sick. "Good girl, Monroe, that wasn't hard, was it?"

He then took the envelope out of her hands and confided in George in the doorway. "Hold it, please."

"Sure thing."

"Envelopo Openo!"

Fred waved his wand, and the wax seal slipped off like rainwater on a window. Neither the envelope nor the seal was ripped and remained intact.

"Envelopo Openo?" Isobel questioned sarcastically. "Really?"

"No, that was just for your enjoyment," said Fred as he stuck his hand in the envelope, "I did the real spell in my head - do you really think I'd spill our secrets in front of you?"

Isobel forced a smile and snatched the letter from his hand as he took it out. She unfolded the thick piece of parchment and began reading in her head, turning away from him and toward the window to get more light.

"Excuse me. Is there anything to share with the class?" Fred asked. "We did just get that out for you!"

"What does it say?" Charlie asked softly as he looked over her shoulder.

"It's an invitation," she said as she studied it.

The three intrigued brothers entered the bedroom and huddled behind her, trying to get a closer look. Isobel began to read out loud so that they could all understand.

"Dear Mr Gregory Goyle.

You are receiving this invitation as an extension of your parents, in our hopes that you will soon join them in employment.

You are cordially invited to the Ministry of Magic to witness Pius Thicknesse's oath as he assumes the position of Minister of Magic. Join us at 6 p.m. on August 31st to enjoy drinks, dinner, and talks from the country's top Leaders.

We hope to see you alongside your family and like-minded others to welcome the new and improved regime.

Yours Sincerely,
The Department Of Magical Administration"

"The 31st...," said Charlie, "that's the day after tomorrow."

"Should we go?" George asked him.

Fred ripped the letter from Isobel's hands, looking closer, "I think we have to."

"But it's going to be dangerous," Isobel stated, insinuating that it should be obvious, "some of the most powerful wizards in the country are going to be there, and they're not all good."

"Yeah, all the Death eaters and their Families," Charlie agreed, pointing at the letter.

"Aw, a little reunion for you," Fred said to Isobel, nudging her arm. "You get to see your old school buddies again."

"They are not my friends," she snapped.

"We need a plan," said George. "I can guarantee that at least one of those stuffy-nosed twits will know something about Luna and Xeno."

"I agree," said Charlie, "so it looks like we've got what we came here for - let's leave this place before we get caught. It's giving me the creeps."

***

When they landed back at the shop, they immediately began brainstorming ideas. None of them had ever stepped foot into the Ministry before except for Charlie, so they started by going off his input and building a vague map of the Ministry building to look for potential entrances and exits. They discussed tactics way into the night, only using snacks they had stored as fuel while they talked. The kettle was on constantly, as now was not the time to be thinking under the influence of alcohol.

"Right, so getting in is easy. George and I can forge the invite, and being a Weasley isn't a crime...yet," said Fred from the dining table as Isobel stood in the kitchen cutting up toasted sandwiches. "It'll give us a good chance to catch up with the Order, I'm sure Kingsley and Tonks will be there."

"But shouldn't we be wearing disguises? We didn't exactly get a real invitation to this thing," Charlie argued, "and they know you're friends with Harry Potter, who, unless you've forgotten - is on the run from these people."

"We're purebloods; that means a lot to them. They want as many of us onside as they can," said George, "if anything, they'll be glad that we're interested in seeing this so-called new regime."

"Okay, well, what about Izzy, then?" Charlie asked, "she's not a Weasley nor a pureblood."

"It'll be a large group of people. She'll be fine," said Fred as he sketched a plan on the table.

"I know you have a history of disregarding her safety, Fred, but I'm not going to take that as an answer," Charlie snapped firmly.

Isobel's hand slipped, and the buttered knife fell out of her hand, grazing her finger slightly. A small cut appeared, and a drop of blood fell out, the splash making a stain on the countertop. Luckily, none of the brothers noticed, and Isobel prayed that Charlie was not implying what she thought he was.

"What do you mean a history of disregarding her safety?" Fred asked as he stopped drawing, and Isobel picked up a towel to wipe up the blood.

"Oh, you don't know?" Charlie asked back.

"No, I don't," Fred replied, "but if you have something to say Charlie, speak up."

Charlie leaned forward on the table and stared his brother down. "I'm just saying, if she gets hurt, it wouldn't be the first time it has happened because of your carelessness, would it?"

Isobel was about to turn on the tap to break the tension when a loud crash came from downstairs. It sounded like panes of glass had been broken, and a roar erupted, vibrating the wooden floorboards beneath them.

"What was that?" asked George.

"I don't know," said Isobel, instinctively grabbing her wand and forgetting about her cut, "but I think we need to find out."

She ran towards the door, George following behind her. When they opened it, a thick cloud of black smoke hit them in the face. After breathing it in, Isobel coughed, but George pushed her forward to see what was happening. It was a frightening sight. The shop was on fire from the ground floor, the orange flames small but plentiful. The fire was spreading fast as the shop was barren and mainly made of wood, but the only saving grace was that the stock was locked away and couldn't act as kindling.

"What the hell?" Charlie asked as he and Fred stopped quibbling and joined them. "How did this happen?"

"Did you touch something again, Monroe?" Fred asked, covering his mouth with his jumper. to act as a shield against the smoke. "It's not your bloody cooking, is it?"

Isobel's choking on the air did not stop her from replying. "I was making sandwiches, you idiot. How could I have bloody caused this!"

"Whatever, let's just fix it!" shouted George, who seemed the most panicked.

The four descended to the ground floor, stepping into the heat as the flames and temperature rose. "Auguamenti!" they all chanted in chorus, each targeting a different shop area. Isobel headed to the front windows to tackle the curtains as they were burning the easiest. She began coughing harder as more smoke filled her lungs and she had to dodge the ash that was shedding everywhere and spreading onto all of their clothes. She couldn't admit it, given her present company, but she was worried. They were all much more experienced than her - she had never put out a fire this big at Hogwarts.

"It's not working," said Charlie, "it's spreading faster than we can stop it."

"Well, you're the one who works with fire on a daily basis," shouted George. "Shouldn't you know what to do?"

"I've never seen anything this repelled to water. Has anyone got any ideas?"

"Nah, I'd rather just leave it - you know how I love to put Monroe in harm's way," Fred replied sarcastically as he diminished a fire on a bookcase.

"Aquamenti maxima!" Isobel shouted, holding her wand in two hands as a furious stream of water jetted out. She had only tried this once before and had forgotten how powerful it was; she could hardly control it. It was working, and the curtains were dampening, but she was losing balance. She was about to fall backwards when Charlie grabbed her wand, and her for that matter.

"Steady on," he said as his extra help made her feet return fully to the floor. "How come you're able to produce this? This isn't even N.E.W.T level."

"You're saying that like you're surprised," she replied, happy that she had impressed him.

"Wow, I think we're starting to control it," said George as he put out an area on the floor.

They had started to gain control. The water spells were working. However, that all changed when something smashed through the front door and landed right in the centre of the floor, shards of glass falling around it. Fred took the brave step of looking at it first and Charlie, who had now stabilised Isobel, was the second to investigate. Isobel looked over at her shoulder at him to see what she could.

Upon closer inspection, she saw it was some abnormal rock, with veins of bright red liquid running through it like lava. It was pulsating.

"Don't get too close," Fred told Charlie as he leaned down towards the object, "there's a note attached."

He got out his wand and waved it, a small sticky-note-sized piece of parchment lifting off the rock and landing right into his hand.

"Times up, you've made your choice," Fred read, "and now you burn alongside them."

Chills went down Isobel's spine. It had gone to the back of her head in all the planning. It was the end of the day...

...he had come for her.

But he hadn't even asked her the question...so why the sudden lash violence?

"What does it mean?" Charlie asked, "do you think it's Death Eater's targeting us because we know Harry?"

Unexpectedly, Fred looked up at Isobel over Charlie's shoulder. She felt under interrogation as he studied her face, looked back down at the note, and then met her eyes again. She knew he could see the fear and panic in her expression, and though she tried so hard to cover it up—it was too late—he could see her guilt.

"It means we've made an enemy," he said, his face apprehensive, "and we've got to work out what this is, quick."

"Monroe, hold the fort," said George as he stopped pouring water from his wand and joined his brothers on the floor.

"What?" Isobel asked, barely holding this corner down herself. "How the hell am I supposed to stop this building from collapsing by myself?"

"Didn't you constantly remind us that you were top of your class?" asked George. "Figure it out."

She couldn't believe they had left her to it on their own. Under the guilt of Draco and the panic of being burned alive in a fire, she couldn't think straight. She was trying to remember a spell, any spell, that would solve this. A spell powerful enough to wash all of this fire away that she could do.

"What do you think it is?" asked George.

"I don't know, but it's alive," said Fred.

"It looks like a small dragon's egg," said Charlie, "but I've never seen it move like that."

"Wait, you mean Dragon's hatch from things like this?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, why?"

Then, it came to her. There was a spell she had seen Professor Flitwick use once when the trees in the Hogwarts grounds had caught fire...after the Weasley twins had thought explosive fireworks were the best thing to use for their wonderous exit from the school.

"Pluvia Maxima!" Isobel chanted, and she lifted her wand above her head.

There was a crack of thunder, and suddenly, the whole of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was engulfed in pouring rain. The ceiling had become covered in dark black clouds, and from them came cool water droplets that pelted the source of the fire. It drenched the floor and their hair, but it extinguished the flames in no time. Isobel was quite satisfied with herself.

"Voila," she sighed and she tilted her head backwards to let the droplets trickle down her face. There were other things to worry about, but she was glad she had solved that one. She turned to the Weasleys, who were still staring hard at the mysterious object.

"I saved your shop," she said, "don't rush to thank me or anything."

"Thanks, Iz," Charlie said as a token effort, but none of them looked at her. She walked towards them and saw that the rock had gotten bigger, growing as it soaked up the water like a sponge.

"Why is it doing that?" she asked anxiously. The water was meant to put it all out, not help it. "If it grows any bigger than it might-"

"Explode," said Fred as he finished her sentence. "I think I know what this is, and we have to get out now. Run!"

They all just obeyed him and ran out the shop floor, and it was just in time too, as Fred had been right. As soon as Isobel reached the door, the rock expanded further and burst, a wave of fire in the shape of a dragon flying out into the shop. It was enchanted to look alive, and as soon as it spotted them all running out, it took a deep breath and blew scorching fire in their direction.

Isobel felt herself being grabbed as they all fell to the floor - jumping for their lives as they escaped the danger. She hit the cold, hard cobbles of Diagon Alley's street with a thud, the flame from the dragon barely missing her by an inch. There was no damage done, but she would've been far worse off had she not had the two arms and body of protection wrapped around her waist - stopping her scar from slamming onto the floor. She expected that Charlie had thought quickly with what he knew about her and had been the one to do it.

"Bloody hell," said George as he sat up on his elbows and looked up at the shop in horror, "it's going to destroy the whole thing!"

"Is everyone alright? Is anyone hurt?" she heard Charlie ask. He sounded far away, so Isobel opened her eyes. Charlie was sitting just a few feet to the side, so she was disappointed to find out that he wasn't the one holding her. He was staring at her with soot covering the left-hand side of his face and was looking just as confused as she was.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Fred huffed from behind her, and she felt his hands pulling away from her body. She looked up, and to her surprise, there he was—his face blackened as he was the last to leave.

She must have hit her head harder than she thought. She must have been hallucinating. Fred Weasley would never touch her or care enough to save her from getting hurt.

Isobel didn't move. This was the closest she had ever been to Fred, and she didn't want to jolt anything as he was so tightly pressed against her. However, he wasn't moving as she thought he would have. He was staring up at the shop, watching helplessly as the fire engulfed his pride and joy. Isobel stole a glance and saw that she could see the reflection in his eyes. They were watering up, but she knew he wouldn't dare cry.

She might have felt sympathy for him if she wasn't so confused.

They all stared up as the dragon ploughed through each floor, leaving no corner unexplored. Wood started to crumble as it became too weak to support itself, and slowly, Weasley's Wizards Wheezes began to burn to the ground. Though she had never stepped foot in the shop before this week, Isobel could still feel sadness watching it go up in flames. She hated the look of it and everything it represented, but it didn't deserve this to happen to it. Isobel looked past Fred along the darkness of Diagon Alley and saw an empty street. The Death Eaters wreckage of the once bustling street had meant that no one batted an eye when they heard a fire, and no one came to help when they saw people in need. Everyone was afraid to intervene. It was a profound reminder of their new reality.

However, there was a little figure in the far background—a person dressed in black from head to toe, with shimmering blonde hair falling down their face.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy had burned down Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

All because he hadn't gotten his way.

It was all her fault.

Chapter Text

"Here's your tea, dear," said Mrs Weasley as she entered the bedroom. She placed the cup and saucer onto the dresser where Isobel was sitting but kept it still, as it would spill over the long teal evening dress Isobel wore.

"Thanks. Is it in it?" Isobel asked quietly as she looked down at the mud-like liquid in the cup. It wasn't tea, but Mrs Weasley didn't like using the real name because she would never admit to giving the real drink to kids.

"Yes, Ginny added in the hair herself," replied Mrs Weasley, "are you sure you still want to do this, though dear? The thought of you all in that fire was bad enough, but now going to the Ministry with those people-"

"We'll be fine," said Isobel, placing her hands on Mrs Weasleys to hold them. "We've planned out every possibility; we're prepared. It should be a quiet event where we might learn some information. In and out, we'll be back before bedtime."

Mrs Weasley exhaled a heavy huff as she leant against the dresser. "Well, I must admit I would be more confident if it were just you and Charlie going," she told her, "after what happened, I'm afraid Fred and George might be loose canons."

Isobel looked in the old oval mirror before her and saw that Mrs Weasley had left the door open, so she had to say the next thing quietly. "Have you or Ginny been able to get anything out of them? Are they, you know, mentally okay to do this tonight?"

"They've either been up in their room or acting like nothing has happened," Mrs Weasley sighed, "but I've heard footsteps in the last hour or so, so I assume they're still going."

After watching enough of the shop burn, Charlie decided they all head back to the Burrow for a place to sleep. No one fought against him, but then again, Fred and George weren't saying anything. Not when they got to the Burrow when Mr and Mrs Weasley asked what was wrong, not when Charlie checked in on them during the night when they were awake, and not the entire morning afterwards. The first word either spoke was a 'thanks' when George came down to collect their lunches before immediately returning upstairs. It was only for evening dinner that they came down to join everyone, smiling and as bouncy as ever. Everyone was confused as to why the sudden mood had changed.

"Well, at least they seem to be getting over it," said Isobel, which she thought would make Mrs Weasley feel better.

"Oh, I know my sons, Isobel," Mrs Weasley replied. "They might always put up this act, acting like everything is okay and making a joke out of everything all the time, but I can safely say that they're not getting over it. It'll just simmer until they act out in some way silly. I don't know why they keep things in like this; maybe it was because they felt they had to deal with their brothers who were all serious growing up. I don't know...I just wish they expressed their feelings a little bit more."

Isobel's lips twitched to curl up into a smile, but it didn't stay there long. As Mrs Weasley walked out towards the door, Isobel realised she had never wondered why Fred and George had chosen to be the biggest jokers in the school. She had never even considered that she had never seen them upset, only angry, and even then, their expressions usually had a sarcastic undertone.

No one could be that happy all the time and mean it.

"Knock knock."

Charlie Weasley appeared at the front door in a dark blue suit with a small chain hung across the waistcoat. His neatly slicked-back hair was in a bun, making him look quite aristocratic.

"Hi Charlie," said Mrs Weasley as she met him at the door. "Oh, don't you look handsome? You listened to my advice about the hair!"

Isobel loved watching Mrs Weasley interact with her sons. She loved them all, but she doted on Charlie the most, probably because he was the one who was always out of reach.

"Well, I don't want those Ministry tightwads thinking I'm out of place," said Charlie as he stepped into the room and kissed his mother on the cheek. "What do you think, Isobel?"

"I think you scrub up well," Isobel replied kindly. She had wanted to say more, but not in front of Mrs Weasley.

"Oh, your father!" Mrs Weasley said, clutching her palms straight to her cheeks. "He never remembers when to turn the stove off. I need to check on him before this place goes on fire again!"

Mrs Weasley hurriedly ran out of the room, her hand covering her mouth. It wouldn't have been her if she wasn't stressing about something. Isobel remembered that Luna had told her the Burrow had burned down last Christmas, from Death Eaters, not by the stove, but she could still see why Mrs Weasley was worried about it happening again. It took quite a bit of their savings to rebuild.

"Why didn't your dad want to come again?" Isobel asked Charlie as he stared after his mother running away.

"He says he was probably not invited for a reason," Charlie answered. "We would stand out more if he stood next to us."

Isobel nodded and accepted this as an answer, but she couldn't help but feel that they would be safer if they had an adult present—especially one that knew people in the Ministry inside and out.

"I just wanted to get one look at you all dressed up before you turn into my sister," whispered Charlie as he stepped further into the room and stood behind Isobel at the desk, "I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to look at you the same way for the rest of the night after you become my sister. You look pretty."

"You charmer," Isobel smiled as he bent down and kissed her neck, "but I have to ask, how exactly do your parents have this much polyjuice potion?"

"Dark times call for desperate solutions," Charlie answered as he grinned next to her face. "Now come on, finish powdering your face or whatever you girls do and finish up so we can have some fun before this thing."

"Fun? I think you seem to forget that we are at your parent's house," Isobel laughed.

"Not like that," Charlie teased, "I do have manners, you know. Though heavy kissing and petting wouldn't go a miss, come on Iz, onto the bed."

Charlie opened his arms wide and went to pick her up into the cradling position. She fought against him, and the two playfully fought against each other as she made it hard for him to pick her up. Eventually, he won, and she giggled as he could easily lift her. He was about to kiss her when someone coughing distracted their attention.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Fred as he slowly strode into the room and leant on the side of the door frame, "but I need a minute with Monroe, alone."

"Why alone?" Charlie asked.

"So you can't hear of course," said Fred sassily, "it's private."

Charlie hesitantly looked to Isobel as Fred checked the cufflinks on the sleeve of his black suit. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"If I scream, come running," Isobel replied jokingly.

Charlie gently put her back on the floor, and Isobel adjusted her dress, which had now risen quite a bit above the knee. Her smile now vanished into a relaxed frown, and she sat back down on the stool in front of the mirror. Charlie gave one look at his brother before leaving the room and leaving them alone.

"What do you want?" Isobel asked as Fred closed the door on Charlie behind him.

"I just wanted to check in and see how you were," he said casually, swaggering around with his hands in his pockets. He looked far too confident for her liking.

"Why?" she asked, reaching for her jewellery box and taking out a fake pearl earring, "you haven't cared about how I am before."

She saw Fred shrug in the mirror and run his hands through his hair. He gave her an impression that was not too dissimilar from Theo dressed up like that, a boy from new money, and if she didn't hate him - she would say he looked nice. "I just thought you might be shaken up after the fire, that's all."

"It wasn't my shop," she said, fastening the earring. "It should be me asking you if you're okay."

"True," he said, stepping closer to her, "yet you are the only person in this house who hasn't done that yet. Why?"

Isobel wondered why he would care. They weren't friends and had hardly talked until now, so she thought the answer would've been simple: "I wouldn't think you would want to hear it from me."

She leant forward to pick up the other earring from her jewellery box but felt Fred come closer, the smell of hair gel looming over as he had slicked the loose strands of his long hair back. "So it has nothing to do with the fact that Draco Malfoy was the one that set it alight then?"

Isobel froze briefly, and she looked at him in the mirror. She thought fast and decided that she would play none the wiser. He didn't have any proof.

"Draco?" she asked, pretending to look confused as she fastened the earring to complete the set. "How do you know that it was Draco?"

Fred pulled out a small note from his upper suit pocket and unfolded it, holding it up for her to see. "Because it's his handwriting on the note, I recognised it straight away," he told her, "and so did you, so you can drop that innocent act right now."

Isobel glanced out of the corner of her eye at the note. Fred was right; it was Draco's handwriting, but she knew that already—she just didn't realise he would also recognise it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, reaching for Luna's butterfly clip to fasten her hair into a half-up, half-down hairstyle.

"Don't bullshit me Monroe," said Fred as he crossed his arms and bent down to her. She could now see his face next to hers in the mirror. "What was it? Did you conspire with Malfoy to burn it down? You hate us so much that you wanted to take away the one thing that was ours, that we worked for our whole life?"

Isobel turned around in defence and faced him. "I didn't know he would do that, okay, but I wasn't involved. Get off my back."

Fred's eyes sparkled with her slip-up. "Ah, so you did know something."

"Please leave," said Isobel, getting up from her stool to walk towards the door. "I need to finish getting ready, and I'm not in the mood for an interrogation."

Fred grabbed her by the arm and stopped her. He pulled her back and pushed her up against the wall, holding her hand behind her back and placing his other hand on the wall next to her head. "I'm not leaving. Our livelihood had been ruined, and you know something, so cough up."

Fred wasn't exactly hurting her; if anything, his grasp was so light that she didn't know why she was stuck there in the first place. But she couldn't move without giving him a chance to stop her first, and she did feel the need to explain. She thought maybe if she cleared her name and told him part of the story, she wouldn't feel this hidden baggage of guilt dragging her down that had burdened her since she had been here.

"Draco wanted to make a deal alright, the first night we were at your shop," she told him. "He said he knew where Luna was but asked for something in return, so I said no. He gave me two days to think about it, but I never agreed, so he retaliated. That's all you need to know."

"What did he want in exchange?" Fred asked, not satisfied with her answer.

"I'm not telling you that," she refused, "all you need to know is that I refused to do it."

She did not want him to discover that she had saved him and George from capture.

"But Luna is your best friend," Fred argued. "You're telling me he offered you a way to get her, and you said no? I don't believe it."

He talked to her with suspicion in his eyes, searching for some sign on her face that revealed she was hiding something. Little did he know she had a great experience keeping secrets and making it look easy.

"It doesn't matter to me if you believe it or not," she argued back, "as I've been trying to tell you, I don't negotiate with terrorists, especially those that would have me locked up in Azkaban just for my blood. I said no, I didn't give in, and I didn't know he would retaliate by burning down your shop. For that, I'm sorry, but that's the only thing you'll hear from me about it."

When she said the word sorry, she saw that Fred was shocked. He hadn't expected her to say it. She would say that it calmed him down, but he just then chose to move the conversation on and prod her more. 

"So it was him that gave you those scars?" he asked, looking down briefly at her legs.

"Yes," she replied stubbornly, suddenly feeling very aware of her bare legs, which now looked bruise-free as the scars had faded. "As you can imagine, he doesn't exactly have a soft negotiating style."

"You should've told us," said Fred.

Isobel rolled her eyes. He couldn't be serious. "Why? Because you would've helped me?" she scoffed.

"But it would be better than lying," Fred replied. "We could've done something with his information."

"You wouldn't have believed me," she insisted. "You would've thought I was setting you up for something and left. It was better that I handled things on my own."

"Oh yeah, because that worked out well," he replied sarcastically.

"Okay, fine, I won't hide anything from you anymore," she said, just wanting to get out of this conversation, "not that I don't think Draco will be an issue anymore anyway. He knows I'm against him now."

"No, he won't be a problem any more, and neither will you," said Fred, "because I'm going to be keeping my eye on you."

"Excuse me?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, you're going to be by my side all night tonight," said Fred with a cunning smirk. "You're going to stay right where I can see you, and if I sense one hint of you conspiring with those Death Eaters, then I'm calling this whole thing off. And while you're at it, stay away from my brother."

This would have been an easy test to pass had it not been that it was Fred Weasleys side that she would have to be attached to all night. However, his last sentence presented an excellent opportunity to wind him up, and if she had to spend the night with him - she couldn't pass it up.

"I think it'll be harder trying to keep him away from me," she smiled.

"Shut up. I know you're using him just to get at us," Fred replied threateningly. "From tonight on, you leave him alone. He's not a pawn in your game."

"Game? There's no game," Isobel said innocently. She could tell him the truth, it would still drive him mad. "It's just a bonus that you can't stand it. We like each other, and he brings me comfort during this. I won't cool things off just because you don't like it."

As usual, her conviction did not deter Fred from his view on things. He looked thoughtful as he stood straight, giving the impression that he knew something she didn't. "You think he really likes you, don't you?" he asked.

"He's given me no reason to think otherwise," Isobel confidently answered.

Fred snickered and glanced at the window to look away from her for a second, unable to contain his giggle. "Yeah," he said, "well, we'll see how long that lasts."

"Why?" Isobel snapped, offended that he would say that in front of her, "Is it unimaginable that he would?"

"No," said Fred, "but this is even better than I thought. You're not trying to get back at us. You actually like him. Oh, you're so naive. This is great."

"If you're going to insult me, can you please just unhand me so I can finish getting ready," said Isobel as she struggled to break free of him. He was now holding her much tighter than before.

"Listen, I'm going to be kind and give you a word of advice simply because this is so, so, sad," said Fred, still grinning pompously. "He is going to leave you, Monroe. That's what he does. He's a leaver. He never sticks to anything serious for more than a few weeks. That's why he's lived in Romania all these years - so he doesn't have to deal with anything hard. Our family, what's going on with Voldemort, anything. You won't be enough to keep him here when things get bad. He will run."

Fred being honest was a foreign concept to her, but having been around him for almost a week now, she knew it was often the case. He didn't lie. However, people's perceptions usually contorted the truth so that she wouldn't take his warning about Charlie as fact. He just wanted to hurt her. 

"Sounds like jealousy to me," said Isobel dully. "It's not his fault he wanted bigger dreams than being stuck here with a silly little joke shop in Diagon Alley—to get away from being stuck in this country and having to play soldier for the Chosen One, making something of his life."

As soon as the words left her lips, she knew she had gone too far, given the other night's events. She felt apologetic, but not enough to correct herself, as he had also gone too far by saying she didn't mean anything to Charlie.

"You know what, don't listen to me, it's fine," said Fred, whose face had screwed up tighter. He relieved his grip on her and stepped away. "I don't know why I even tried to help you. You're the one that's going to get hurt, and we're not going to care."

"Oh, so business as usual then," Isobel remarked.

Fred considered saying something but stopped himself, a skill she didn't know he had. He walked to the door of her bedroom, shaking his head. "Be downstairs in five minutes," he ordered before he left, "or we're going without you."

***

Isobel had never visited the Ministry of Magic but once visited the Houses Of Parliament on a primary school trip. She thought that they might be similar since they were both Government buildings, but she was wrong, in fact they were total opposite. There were no boring brown walls but glamorous shiny emerald green tiles and no ancient old benches worn down - every window, piece of furniture, or even the large fountain gleamed with newness and luxury. The only thing she found common in the two places was an atmosphere of uneasiness. Only if you were truly important did Isobel think you would feel comfortable here amongst the secret whispers and private conversations.

Isobel was now wearing Ginny's body, having drunk the Polyjuice potion Mrs Weasley had brought her. It was pretty easy being Ginny, as she carried herself quite similarly to Isobel, but the only problem was that she was much taller - and in heels, it gave Isobel a slight feeling of virtigo.

"Right, so let's stick to the plan," said Fred as they entered the main lobby, "we get in, search around, eavesdrop on a few people, and then leave within the hour. I'm not spending more time around these people than need be."

"Well, we do need to look like we're mingling to blend in," said Charlie, linking his arm with Isobel and pulling her towards him. "You two go that way if you want to have a snoop, but me and Isobel can go to the dancefloor and see who's around there."

"Oh, I think not," said Fred, pulling Isobel back towards him by the material of her dress. "I've seen how you dance, and quite frankly, I don't think it would make a great first impression for these people to see you groping your sister. I'll take Monroe, and you go with George."

Before Charlie could argue, Fred placed his hand on Isobel's back and gently pushed her away towards the tiny space in the room, which had been turned into a dance floor in front of an orchestra. A few couples were dancing there, all of them old and rich. They were happy, which was an emotion Isobel did not feel when Fred placed her hand on his waist.

"You really couldn't let us have one dance?" Isobel whispered to him.

"It would blow our cover," he replied out of the corner of his mouth as she lazed her free hand on his shoulder. "Hey, could you not look like it physically pains you to touch me?"

"I'm sorry. I thought you didn't want me to hide anything anymore," said Isobel sarcastically. "It's my appearance that's changed, not my brain."

"So you're saying you've never dreamed of dancing with me?"

"Not even in my nightmares Weasley."

"Well, try not to look so stuck up. Remember, you are meant to be our sister after all," said Fred as the two began dancing. "She smiles."

Isobel made sure to stumble and 'accidentally' stand on his toes with her heels. He winced, which gave her great satisfaction. "There are many things I would do for Luna and Xeno," she told him, "but smiling because a man told me to is not one of them."

They kept dancing together, small steps at a time, but they both had their attention elsewhere.  They didn't have to worry about not appearing as brother and sister, as they were at least three feet apart and not looking at each other. Both were scanning the room for potential targets.

"See anyone you recognise?" said Isobel after a while. If she had to dance with him, she could at least make it worth her time.

"Yeah," said Fred, looking at the guests loitering around, "Corban Yaxley. I recognise him from Dad's reports. He's just been named the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement."

"What does he look like?"

"A blonde, long-haired, hard-faced ponytail prick."

Thanks to Fred's delightful description, Isobel could locate Yaxley on their next rotation around the room. He did match what Fred had said - he looked like someone who worked for the mafia or the world's smallest bodyguard. Isobel thought she could tower over him.

"Right, we try and get closer to him then," said Isobel, "and when you say newly appointed, does that mean-"

"Definite Death Eater, yes," Fred answered. "He's caused trouble for Dad a few times. See anyone you might think we could talk to?"

Isobel searched the room carefully without trying to appear obvious. Fred was tall so she couldn't look over his shoulder; she had to wait until she could see the next group of people in the gap between them. Most of the guests were adults, and she had lived quite a sheltered life when it came to the Ministry, so she had no clue who anyone was. However, her moment came when she saw a couple walking to the dancefloor, and these people she knew very well. 

"Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, just coming in behind you," she muttered to Fred. 

Fred snuck a peek to his left, and Isobel joined him in watching Pansy and Blaise take to the dancefloor. They looked the epitome of high-class children, with Pansy's sleek bob lining up perfectly with her black Dragonskin dress and Blaise's Burgandy velvet suit being the only thing soft about him compared to his sharp cheekbones. Isobel instinctively tried to lean her head forward into Fred's chest to hide, but then she saw a strand of red hair fall around her shoulders and remembered that she wasn't herself.

"So if those two are here..." said Fred, looking down at how close Isobel had just got to him, "that means..."

"The others aren't far behind," Isobel answered, "Crabbe, Goyle, Theo...and-"

"Malfoy," said Fred darkly. His hand crumpled into a fist, crushing Isobel's. He was staring over her head, so she looked over her shoulder against the pain she was feeling and saw Draco walking into the room with his father, Lucius Malfoy, and his mother, Narcissa. All were all in black, covered from their necks to their shoes, and all had the same look of disdain for everyone they thought was below them. Their shrivelled-up lips only turned into bright, pleasant smiles when Lucius shook hands with Yaxley - which confirmed what Fred had mentioned about him being a Death Eater.

"Wasn't Lucius in Azkaban?" Isobel asked Fred, "since when did he get released?"

"I don't care about him," said Fred, "I just want to get my hands on that bloody blonde git and kill-"

Isobel snapped back to him and tugged on his tie, forcing him to bend to her level and look her in the eye. "Fred, you can't—it will bring us too much attention. We're here for Luna and Xeno, remember? I won't let you get us into trouble."

"Yeah, and you also said he knows where they are," Fred told her. He looked downwards at her body, as they were now inches apart, and she could feel his breath get deeper as he took an inhale. "Did you change your perfume?"

"Listen, we can't solve violence with-"

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" said a booming loud voice over the speakers. All the guests turned to the main stage, where a small, skinny man in a pinstripe suit stood at a podium. "If you could all gather around as we welcome our new Minister of Magic... Pius Thicknesse!"

The lights darkened to almost black as the music stopped playing, and the guests were beckoned towards the back of the room. Isobel and Fred walked with the crowd and met up with Charlie and George, who were equally fascinated at how many known Death Eaters were walking around here free out of Azkaban.

Pius walked onto the stage, and the first thing Isobel noticed about him was his pointy chin, which was covered by an equally pointy and neat beard. It reminded her of a supervillain from a comic book. Cheers and applause greeted him.

"Good evening, everyone," he said into the microphone as the fanfare wore down. "What a pleasure it is to have you all here tonight. I have the honour of presenting tonight our new manifesto for the years to come - a promise to you all to promote real change for the Wizarding World as we know it..."

The first half an hour of Pius's speech was all nonsense. Economic trends, investment opportunities, and the spiel Isobel had expected about limiting the rights of half-breeds and creatures to an all-time low. They were standing so long that she got bored, and her feet started to hurt in her heels. However, it wasn't the most frightening speech Isobel had ever heard until the end of the manifesto - where Pius's face contorted into the most greedy and excited expression that gave her chills thinking about what he was about to announce.

"And now, for the biggest announcement of all," he smiled, "the most proactive and important step we are making to protect the Wizarding World. I am sure I speak for everyone when I say we have let disruption in our community last too long. It is now causing fragments within our parliamentary system and creating spores of rebellion. This cannot continue. To stay strong and hold our head up high as the superior race, we must squash these nay-sayers that continue to bring trouble to our way of life."

"50 Galleons says he's not speaking about himself," George whispered to Fred.

"Even I wouldn't take that bet," Fred replied.

"We must make our mark and put our foot down. Everyone must look to the Ministry as a powerful institution that writes the laws of the land. By any means necessary. And so it must be that tonight I introduce to you a scheme that we have been slowly building over the last couple of weeks, of which we are very proud. May I present the official opening of our new prison... 'Semper Pro Impiis' or 'Semperess' for short."

A large sheet fell from the ceiling and landed behind him, touching the floor. It acted as a base for a projection, where a large-scale animated drawing of a blueprint building was sketched upon it. The drawing was of a small island gated by tall stone walls covering the entire coast of the land. It was divided into small squared sections, each of them labelled on the projection as for a different crime. There were rows and rows of bunkhouses, tall structures acting like turrets, security posts almost every ten meters, and one thing was for sure - no one was getting out.

"Semper Pro Impiis...what does that mean?" asked Charlie quietly to the group.

"Always for the wicked," Isobel answered, her face haunted by the horrors on the screen before her.

"You know Latin?" George asked down to her.

"Of course she does," Fred mumbled.

"This prison will be different from Azkaban in the way that its prisoners will have to work to pay their dues back to society," said Pius Thicknesse. "They will not be slacking around enjoying their laziness, but instead spend their mornings finding materials for us to use and their afternoons being educated on how they can become contributing members of our society. Anyone who refuses to be educated will be dealt punishments, and for the extreme rebels amongst them...newly devised torture methods will be deployed."

The torture methods were the only things not played out in front of them in sketch form. Isobel thought it weird they would want to keep that under wraps given everything else they were showing, but then she thought perhaps the methods were so extreme that they didn't want to frighten off anyone who was still on the fence. If that wasn't bad enough, Isobel glanced at the crowd surrounding her. It was horrific. The Ministry was practically presenting work camps as their solution to squash the rebellion, and no one was batting an eye. Some were even cheering and smiling. None seemed to be sharing her thoughts of how utterly repulsive this idea was. They really had just invited people who were like-minded and under the Ministry's thumb.

In the distance, she managed to catch the eye of Nymphadora Tonks, who was standing to the side with Kingsley Shaklebolt and another Auror. She didn't look happy and shook her head as she downed her glass of champagne. Kingsley was emotionless as usual in keeping up appearances. Isobel wished she could talk to them and ask their opinions about all this.

"The prison is officially open today, with around fifty inmates already inside, and this will only increase," he continued. "Our Snatcher division will now be focused on rounding up rebels to be placed inside Semperess, where they will be placed whilst they await trial. It will then be decided if they should serve their time in Semperess or be executed in Azkaban by the Dementor's kiss."

"Right, I've heard enough; I'm going snooping whilst everyone's watching this shit," said Fred, and he walked away, leaving George only to try to call him back with whispers. He failed to do so, and Fred disappeared into the crowd.

"Now, the prison will not only be for rebels," Pius announced happily, "I know the purity of our world has been a great concern for many of you, and I agree that it needs to be a great concern. That is why every Witch and Wizard in this country will be considered under investigation. Any found in contempt for being a muggle-born with no magical blood shall be arrested by the snatchers and put into Semperess as well. We have built it to hold as many people as we need."

"Oh my god," Isobel whispered breathlessly to herself. Charlie and George slyly turned their heads to look at her. She might have been wrong, but she thought George even leaned in closer to her.

"And, to conclude this evening's presentation. I want to note that anyone who donates generously tonight will have exclusive access to the prison and will be able to see the place for themselves. Who knows, you might be able to teach those traitors a thing or two...I joke, of course."

The crowd laughed. People laughed at that. They laughed at the notion of torturing innocent people. Isobel got hot with rage, her skin feeling sticky and tight underneath her dress.

So this was what Theo had warned her about, what Draco had threatened—prison camps for anyone who wasn't pureblood or dared to think differently.

"Goodnight, everyone," said Pius in his closing words. "I look forward to discussing this with you over drinks."

Pius smiled politely and nodded before walking away from the platform. The lights came back on as he exited, the sketch of Semperess remaining up as the backdrop to the party, and the guests were all startled at the sudden appearance of light. Everyone turned to the groups they had previously been in and returned to their everyday conversations, as if what they had just seen was just your standard political speech with nothing insane in it at all.

"I bet you he wasn't joking about that last bit," said George under his breath as the three came together in a huddle.

"What the fuck was all that about?" said Charlie quietly, "how have things gotten this bad?"

"Well, we did try to tell you it's been slowly happening Charlie, if you bothered to read our letters," George replied.

"You don't think they'll put all muggleborns in there do you?" Isobel asked nervously.

"No chance. I'm sure this will get shut down," said Charlie to reassure her. It was in vain, though, as she and George knew much more about what was happening than he did.

"Oh yeah, and who's going to stop them?" asked George, "All ten members of the Order? Look how many people are here supporting this crap!"

"I bet that's where Luna and Xeno are being held," said Isobel, starting to shake from a rush of stress, "in those horrible, barbaric camps!"

"Shhh, calm down," said George, wrapping his arm around her to shield her from a woman who had overheard her and turned to look. "You're going to make a scene."

"Calm down?" Isobel told him, "easy for you to say when you're not a muggle-born Weasley! That's my kind that they're talking about locking up there!"

"No, I agree. It's mental," said George quietly. "Don't forget, we're seen as blood traitors too. Just be quiet; otherwise, they will notice something is up. You're doing this for Luna, okay? We know where she is now."

He was being nice. That scared her almost as much as what she had just heard.

"Let's just leave," said Charlie, "did anybody see where Fred went?"

"Yeah, where is Fred?" Isobel asked, noticing his complete absence of him being stuck to her hip.

"I don't know," said George. "Let's split up and look for him. He couldn't have gone far. We'll meet by the fireplace in five minutes and return to the Burrow. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Despite Charlie's pleas for her not to go off alone, Isobel shook him off and searched the left-hand side of the lobby. She couldn't look eager or nervous, so she calmly danced between the groups of people talking. Many of them seemed excited, which she couldn't understand. She had almost searched through everyone when she heard a faint noise that sounded like something falling to the ground. Following her intuition, she walked to where the noise came from - a corridor just off the main room where waiters had come in from previously. When she turned the corner, she saw that she had found Fred. But he wasn't alone.

"That is for burning down our shop," Fred spat onto Draco Malfoy's face. Draco was crunched up against the wall, his head hanging down after Fred had punched him in the face. Fred's left arm held his shoulder up to keep him in place, but Draco might have fallen to the ground without that. Isobel hid around the side and stuck her head around the corner to watch, just wanting to observe and not intervene just yet.

"And this," Fred continued angrily, "is for putting your hands on a girl."

His fist hit Draco's jaw again, and Draco grunted in pain. She would usually be disgusted at this display of violence, especially from a Weasley, but Isobel couldn't quite feel that after hearing what he had just said. She was the only one that he knew Draco had hurt, so it could be only her he was referring to.

"If I didn't think you could get any more cowardly....you stay away from her, alright?"

Something about those words made her blush. Fred's face was so strained, so severe, it was like he was someone else a world away from his cheerful and immature self. It felt like she was seeing him again for the first time. She got too into the moment, and Isobel's shoes scuffed against the floor, alerting her presence to them both. Fred turned his head to her, and his face softened slightly. She was under no false pretences - it wasn't because he had seen her standing there. It was because he had seen Ginny standing there.

"We need to go," she told him, the words falling out of her mouth.

Draco smiled at her. He had never really talked about Ginny around Isobel, but she had become a target of his disdain last year after her relationship with Harry was exposed. The smile was not one of friendliness. It was just Draco's reaction to being around another person who offended him. "You filthy traitors," he grunted, perhaps too cockily for a man who had just been hit twice, "we'll get you, you know. It doesn't matter how hard you hit me now. You'll all get what's coming to you sooner or later, and when you're in the camps, we'll separate you all so you never see each other again. I might even personally torture your porker of a mother."

After what had been revealed tonight, Fred and Isoel knew this was no threat. He meant it. They had to leave now, as Draco turning up bruised and bloody would only give the snatchers a reason to send them to one of the camps right now. They would never be able to find Luna and Xeno and break them out if that happened. Fred punched Draco again for good measure, and this sound rebounded straight into Isobel's ears. That was the hardest of the three.

"And that," he warned him, " is for thinking you could ever threaten me. You stay away from my family, or I'll kill you."

He walked away, having had enough, and stormed forward. Isobel had to hurry in her heels to catch up with him. 

"Fred, you shouldn't have done that!" she whispered.

"He deserved it!" Fred grunted, adjusting his suit jacket sleeves as they had become uneven.

"But you've just made him angry."

"I don't care!" Fred said loudly, "and neither should you - you could've died in that fire too, you know."

She wanted to say something about how he had defended her against Draco, almost thanking him for sticking up for her, but the words couldn't quite form in her mouth. It was weird how he could be so unfriendly towards her when they were face to face, but then do something like that behind her back. It was entirely out of character. Part of her wanted to ask him why, but she was sure the answer would just be that he wanted more reasons to hit Draco. It wasn't because he wanted to get her justice.

"Fred, where were you?" George asked as Fred and Isobel met them by the fireplaces. He then noticed Fred's hands at his sides, all flushed bright and raw. "Why are your knuckles red?"

"Because he beat up Draco Malfoy," Isobel answered disapprovingly before Fred could speak.

"Oh, nice," said George, punching Fred on the arm. "Next time, could you let me know? I'll get a few in myself."

"Are you mental?" Charlie asked the pair as Fred smirked at George. "You can't do that here, Fred; this is his family's domain!"

"You two need to loosen up," said Fred, pointing to Charlie and Isobel. "This isn't the first time we've done this to him you know. We don't give in to bullies. We shouldn't get scared; he deserved it."

Isobel knew which time he was referring to. He, George and Harry lunged at Draco after a Quidditch match went wrong in her fifth year. It got them suspended from Quidditch indefinitely, with Professor Umbridge giving the orders. Isobel was the one who volunteered to write the paperwork for it. 

"We can get scared when he puts me and your whole family in bloody Semperess!" said Isobel, "but we need to go now; we need to warn your parents and Ginny. I don't think Fred smashing in the face of a Death Eater's son will help your family's case of being Blood Traitors!"

She pushed them all into the closest fireplace and grabbed a grain of the green sand next to the pillars encasing it. She uttered 'The Burrow' and dropped the sand to the floor, and a second later, they were all sucked up into the atmosphere - travelling to beat the news back to the Burrow where they could explain what had happened.

Chapter Text

"And so the group known as the Snatchers have been given free rein to capture anyone they believe to be rebels or muggleborns. They will be placed in the new maximum security prison Semperess, where they will await trial of servitude or death. The Ministry has released a statement saying citizens shouldn't be worried...if they have nothing to hide.

In other news, the students of Hogwarts will be back at school today with the Hogwarts Express leaving London at 11 o'clock as usual. They will be greeted under a new Headmaster this year, as Severus Snape has presumed the position. Joining him are the brother and sister pairing of the Karrows, who have been brought in to teach Defence Against The Dark Arts - a subject with a drastic syllabus change this year.

Have a great day, students, and as usual, have a safe and quiet year at Hogwarts."

Remus Lupin turned the radio off at that point. He placed his hands on the shoulders of Tonks, who had not blinked once the whole time the news had been on. Whoever was available was sat at the Weasley's dining room table that next morning. No one had slept, and once Isobel and the Weasley brothers had returned that night and told Mr and Mrs Weasley everything, they quickly got the word out. Remus and Tonks appeared just after midnight, Kingsley arrived shortly after, made-eye Moody arrived at a quirky 3.15 in the morning, and Fleur and Bill arrived at 6.55, just before the morning news began. They all sat around the radio in their nightwear, waiting to hear all the bad news get rolled out to the nation.

"So...what now?" said Bill, who was sat next to a speechless Fleur in hair rollers.

"Exactly. What now," said Kingsley. He was more crushed than Isobel had expected, disappointing her as she looked to him for hope. He was the highest-ranking Ministry official in the room, and if he didn't know what they could do to stop this - then there was no real chance for anyone else to know.

"Wait, Snape's now headmaster of Hogwarts?" Charlie asked the room. "How did that happen?"

Even Isobel couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at him with the rest of the room. Every day, it became more apparent that Charlie didn't know anything that was going on.

"You can't be serious," said George.

"You attended Dumbledore's funeral," said Fred. "How do you think he ended up in the box? Tripped over his beard?"

"I know what happened at the Astronomy tower," Charlie replied sarcastically, "I just mean, how is he Headmaster after it? He killed him. He should be in Azkaban."

"That was never proved," Moody stated lowly.

"But Harry saw it," Fred argued, "and we were all there fighting the Death Eaters that had turned up with Draco Malfoy."

"Okay, I'll amend my statement. In the eyes of the Ministry, it was never proved that he was the one that did it," said Moody, "hence this new appointment."

"It's ridiculous. How could he be allowed to be Headmaster when he did what he did," said Mrs Weasley. "Ginny's meant to go back today. How can I send her there like this!"

The 1st of September had come around quicker than expected, and Isobel couldn't believe she wouldn't be going to Platform 9 3/4's today with Luna to finish her final year. She needed her Hogwarts diploma to get a job elsewhere, but other things had become more important.

"She will still be safer there than here," Mr Weasley told his wife.

"He was horrible as a potions master, let alone Headmaster," Fred complained sourly. "Those kids are in for hell."

"He was alright to me," Isobel muttered under her breath.

"Of course he was, you were a suck-up," Fred said sarcastically to her. They were in the unfortunate position of being next to each other.

"No, I did my work and kept my head down instead of spending my time creating distractions," said Isobel, staring up at him. "Teachers don't ask for much, you know."

This might have seemed a bit inappropriate for the time, but she wasn't just going to stand there and agree with a room full of people and let a teacher's name get dragged through the mud by a boy who probably never even tried to give him respect. Yes, Snape occasionally favourited the Slytherins, and he could be a bit mean to certain students, which she didn't agree with. But, for the most part, he was fair, and his lessons were packed with helpful knowledge - if you bothered to pay attention. When Luna told her about the night at the Astronomy tower, Isobel had questioned Snape's motives and had questioned them ever since. He was miserable, sure, but she never saw him as a cold-blooded killer.

"Are you seriously sticking up for a murderer?" Fred argued with her. "Because that would be an all-time low for you."

"Did I say that?" Isobel responded. "I'm just saying he wasn't a terrible teacher."

"Why are you defending him at all?" Fred replied, agitated that she wasn't backing down. The others in the room collectively sighed.

"Because I like to have an open mind! It might be news to you, but he wasn't horrible to people who didn't cause trouble," said Isobel to defend herself, "people are multi-dimensional. It's not always black and white."

"He killed Dumbledore," said Fred, "that's pretty black and white to me."

Isobel crossed her arms and turned her hips to face him. She wouldn't back down to him just because they were surrounded. "Well, not being funny, something dangerous happened every year I was there, and Dumbledore did nothing to stop it. He could have prevented a lot of things from happening. One of my best friends died because he wouldn't stop the Triwizard Tournament. Something wasn't right with Dumbledore either, yet you never questioned his motives!"

Fred ignored her because he couldn't argue with that. Instead, he just kept insisting on his point.

"Snape is a Death Eater!" he shouted.

"Allegedly," Isobel snapped back, "He used to be, but then Dumbledore helped him give it up. He must have had a logical reason to do what he did. He wouldn't just kill him. Dumbledore gave him a second chance!"

"How do you even know all that?" Fred exasperated.

"I pay attention!" she replied, and she poked him on the chest to create distance between them. "Which you should try sometime."

It didn't work. He just got closer, and she could smell the coffee on his breath, overpowering an intoxicating hint of smoke. This was why they could never be friends. They were both too stubborn. "Yeah, or was it because you had inside sources?" He asked.

"If Luna counts as an inside source," she said, "then yes, I had inside sources."

"You just have a perfect answer for everything, don't you? I meant Dr-"

"Oh, for goodness sake, be quiet!" said Mr Weasley, who had now had enough of them dominating the conversation. "Severus is a complicated man. None of us knew why he did what he did. But one thing for sure is that it is the least of our worries right now, and we don't have time for you to fight like an old married couple."

Fred and Isobel stopped squabbling, but not without hitting each other in the elbow with their crossed arms first. The room took a moment to breathe, as tensions were high, and once the young two had calmed down - conversations could resume once more.

"So muggles, rebels, and half-breeds are who they're imprisoning," said Tonks. "So that's..."

"...everyone we know," Remus finished her sentence gravely.

Everyone looked at each other in silence. In the eyes of the Ministry, everyone in that room was guilty of something. In Remus and Bill's case, some were guilty of two of those things.

"From what I can gather, half breeds are a low priority," Kingsley told the room, "and they're currently building their cases against rebels as they're harder to prove. Their main priority is muggleborns. That they can prove that quite easily with records."

All eyes in the room fell on Isobel with the one thing she hated: pity. She understood why. She was the only muggle-born in the room, but she still didn't like the attention on her.

"Are you sure you don't want to return to Hogwarts, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked her, "We could get the rest of your stuff from the Lovegoods and quickly pack. You and Ginny could-"

"No," Isobel refused, cutting her off mid-sentence. "I'm not going without Luna."

"But Isobel, you've heard what they said," said Remus, who had now taken on his teacher persona. "We're all targets, and if you stay here with us, you could be in danger."

"Luna is in danger!" Isobel told them bluntly. They were acting like they had forgotten. "And as you said, I'm in danger anyway, whether I go to Hogwarts or not. She could be in one of those camps right now, Professor. I'm not abandoning her."

"We all need to protect you, young ones," said Mr Weasley. "You and Ginny would be safe at Hogwarts; it would be one less person to worry about."

Isobel was getting increasingly frustrated. She understood where they were coming from but seriously couldn't believe they thought this was for the best. They weren't her parents. She had hardly known any of them until this summer. There wasn't anybody there who could tell her what she could and couldn't do.

"I am not leaving Luna," she insisted. "She is my best friend. She wouldn't abandon me, and I won't abandon her. I'm sorry, but no. There are more important things than self-preservation."

With that, Isobel stormed off and left the Weasley's kitchen, walking up the stairs until she turned a corner into the corridor where Ginny's bedroom was. She was trembling, so she held her hands to try to stop them, keeping one ear out to hear the rest of what was happening downstairs.

"Be honest guys, we can't make her go there," said George to her defence, "Ginnys got the protection of being pure blood, even if she does know Harry. If they're rounding up muggleborns, Hogwarts will be one of the first places they'll look. If we send Isobel there, we'll be practically handing her over to them."

Isobel clutched her hands so hard that she cracked a knuckle. It had been so long since George had used her first name, and even then, it was "busy Izzy".

"Yeah, I hate to admit it, but George is right," said Fred, which was her next biggest shock, "don't get me wrong, she is a giant pain in my arse, but even I wouldn't go that low as to feed her to the wolves. Sorry, no offence guys."

"None taken," said Remus and Bill at the same time.

"It's the only thing we can do," said Mrs Weasley. "If she stays out here, we can't guarantee her safety."

"It'll be okay; she'll come with us," said George. "This doesn't change anything. We'll look into this Semperess and see what we can find."

"Wow, you two have changed your opinion on her quickly," said Fleur, who had remained silent until now. "From what I gather, you hate each other. Why do you insist on taking her now?"

"Because she is serious about finding this out," Fred answered, "and if I'm honest, so are we. They burned our shop down - we need revenge."

Isobel began biting her nails. A couple of days ago, they had to be practically tricked into going on this journey with her, but now they were the reason she was potentially saved from going off to Hogwarts. She felt gratitude but didn't know how to express it. She had never thought she would express gratitude to Fred Weasley ever again.

"I'll go check on her," said Charlie. Isobel heard him get out of his chair, and a shadow appeared on the wall before her as he came up the stairs.

"But, boys-"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Fred interrupted, "but the days of you two deciding to keep us out of the loop are over. We're stepping into our positions in the Order. This we can help with; this is where we can fight, and she's part of the deal now - whether we like it or not."

Charlie appeared as he turned the corner to the hallway. It calmed her to see him, though she was still biting her nails.

"Hey," he said.

"If you're here to convince me to go to Hogwarts, then it's a waste of time," she said, pre-empting any possibilities.

"I'm not here to do that," he told her gently. "I'm checking to see if you're okay."

Isobel looked up at him with the nail of her thumb in her mouth. She was so tense that her teeth were holding it down. "Would you be okay?" she asked.

Charlie sympathised with her, lightly pulling her hand away from her mouth and telling her honestly, "No."

He used the hand he was holding of hers to pull her in for a hug, and she held him by the waist. His arms wrapped around her, and he stroked her hair, the husky smell of smoke coming off his clothes as her nose brushed them. She could hear Fred and George still downstairs fighting with other members of the Order, but she tried to block them out. She wanted to block all of them out.

"I'm just thinking of them all alone in there, scared," she said into Charlie's shirt, "I don't know if they would even be placed in there with each other."

"I'm sure they are," said Charlie as he comforted her, "Don't worry; we're keeping you with us. We know where they are now, and we'll get them out soon."

"You're so optimistic," Isobel smiled sadly, "you saw it last night. It's hell."

"Hey, I promise you, okay, we will get them out."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," said Isobel.

She didn't want hope. Her happiness had always been found in the realism of things. If she kept her head on straight and kept all possibilities in mind, then that's when she could never be disappointed.

***

An hour later, and after a long battle against their parents that Fred and George won, Isobel and the brothers were outside the Burrow with a new bag packed with replenishments from the Burrow. Mr and Mrs Weasley waved them off, with Ginny in her Hogwarts robes, ready to leave for Kings Cross Station. They all took hands, and Fred apparated them from the Burrow to a new place. It was a simple room with white walls, a table, and nothing else. The thin grey carpet gave the impression of a corporate setting, and there was a wall of windows that acted like sliding doors, but bamboo-covered blinds covered them up.

"Where have you brought us?" Charlie asked.

"To a friend," Fred replied as he walked up to the room's door and looked out of its little rectangular window. "George and I wrote to them last night. When we returned, we realised we might need somewhere to lay low for a while.

"That's...pretty resourceful of you," said Isobel, shocked at their planning.

George smiled at her proudly. "Hey, we're more than just pretty faces, you know."

"But where are we?" Charkie insisted.

"Manchester," Fred replied.

"Manchester? Where the hell is Manchester?!"

There was an enormous cheer behind the windows as music started playing, catching Isobel's attention. As she walked up to the window, she heard it more clearly. It was a trumpet melody leading a percussion band, and people outside were singing along.

"Wait, is that the fanfare for the Holyhead Harpies?" Isobel asked as she focused on it.

"You like them?" Charlie asked.

"It's my team," Isobel told him, a soft smile forming on her face as the music brought back happy feelings, "female team, girl power,...go figure. I'd know their music anywhere."

"Oh yeah, I remember those little sketches that covered your books," said Fred, still staring out the door, "...artistic."

Isobel went to glare at him until she realised he wasn't being sarcastic, even though his tone lent herself to think so. He was still straight-faced without a hint of irony. She couldn't believe he would remember a small detail about her like that. She couldn't even think of a time when he would've been able to see her books up close.

"Well, we just have to wait until he arrives here," said George. "He said we could watch the match with him."

"And who is he?" asked Charlie, frustrated with their lack of detail.

"Round up, round up, the showman is here," said a man as Fred opened the door and the mysterious 'friend' walked into the room. Isobel recognised him immediately. From his cheeky smile to his long dreadlocks that had delicately coated gold rings decorating them, he was the character that had first brought the game of Quidditch to life for her. He opened his arms in his smart burgundy suit and walked towards the twins to embrace. "You know you can't have a real party until Lee Jordan arrives!"

Lee Jordan was Fred and George's best friend. If you had seen them at Hogwarts, you would've thought that he was the third twin and that they were triplets. They never left each other's side, and the three were involved in every prank. Lee was the school-famous commentator known for his funny remarks and biased coverage regarding the Slytherin team, frequently getting him into trouble alongside other comments made by his big mouth. Isobel wished she could be happier to see him, but she didn't know how he would feel about seeing her. Her relationship with him had not gone the same as the twins, even though they were so close.

The Lion Pack of Gryffindor House were now reunited.

"It's so good to see you guys," Lee grinned as he hugged Fred tightly, "I'm so happy you could finally visit me up here!"

"Well, it's not every day you get to see your best friend be the official commentator for the league on the radio!" said George as it was his turn to hug him.

"And we kind of need your help," said Fred. He closed the door quietly. "We all need a place to crash."

"Oh, of course," said Lee enthusiastically, "you can stay anytime. Who's the we-"

He stopped smiling as he saw Isobel standing there with Charlie. Lee clearly hadn't seen her when he had come in, or maybe he had not recognised her, as this was more the expression she had expected him to have.

"Isobel Monroe," said Lee, and he side-eyed Fred and George before smiling at her again, "we haven't spoken since?"

"Two years ago," Isobel reminded him quickly, "the last day of term."

Isobel didn't hug him, and he didn't lean forward to welcome her. Their last conversation was meant to be their last, and neither had expected to run into the other again, especially in a situation like this.

"And Charlie," said Lee, who was stunned and reached forward to shake Charlie's hand to avoid awkwardness. "Wow, I haven't seen you since the Triwizard tournament, right?"

Isobel thought it weird that the twin's best friend had not seen Charlie in about three years as he stopped by there every summer, but then she realised that Lee Jordan wasn't even at Bill and Fleur's wedding. The three of them were so inseparable at Hogwarts that she found it strange that they didn't want to spend the summers together as she and Luna did.

"Congrats," said Charlie as he shook Lee's hand. "It's super cool that you commentate here now."

As the two separated, Charlie placed his hand around Isobel's waist. Lee noticed it, his eyes lowering, and his face went back to the reliable grin that was his factory setting. Isobel, similarly to the twins, had rarely seen Lee Jordan in anything but a smile.

"Took a lot of work," he replied, "so what's happened? Your letter was a little vague. Why the unexpected appearance?"

Isobel and Charlie let Fred and George take the lead on this one. With little time left before the match started, they explained a brief synopsis of the last couple of weeks to Lee. He was shocked but not surprised, as he, too, had been listening to the news every morning.

"I can't believe this is happening," said Lee, now in a sombre mood when the story was done. "How is your family? Are they okay?"

"For the moment," said George. "But they'll have to flee soon, too. Mum and Dad will likely go to Shell Cottage with Fleur and Bill, but as for the others, we don't know where they will be."

"And Harry, Ron and Hermione, are they?"

"On the run," Fred answered, "we haven't heard from them in a week. But they should be okay. They're pros at this by now. The only people we know that are imprisoned right now are Luna and Xeno."

Lee looked at Isobel on Fred's lead. His eyes were apologetic, and it was a look she was beginning to get used to. "I'm sorry, I know she's your best friend," he told her, "she was always really nice to me."

"Thank you," said Isobel as she shifted her footing. It felt weird like they were mourning her already.

"So, are you sure we could stay with you while we figure out our next steps?" Fred asked. "We won't be long, I swear."

"No, it's okay. I've got lots of space in my flat," said Lee. "You're all welcome to stay as long as you want. Besides, it'll be nice to have people around. I can take you around the city, catch up, and maybe I could help."

A bell rang inside the room, telling them it was nearly match time. Lee showed the boys the box outside where they would watch from, and Isobel walked over to the table with a single jug of water and some cups. She took a moment alone to take a breath. She was used to stability, staying to herself and the places she was comfortable in. She wasn't used to switching unknown locations so much in a week. She was now about to watch the Holyhead Harpies, a team she had loved since she had heard about Quidditch, but all she could feel was guilt. Luna had always promised that they would go to their first match together. It felt like she was cheating on her by doing something fun.

"You're allowed to have a good time, you know," said Lee as he stepped back into the room.

Isobel poured herself some water and placed it down with a deep exhale. Lee could always read her mind, which brought them together in the first place. "We should be making a plan," she said, "we shouldn't be wasting time watching Quidditch matches."

"Damn, Izzy, you need to let loose," said Lee, his level of sincerity making her listen, "given how things are going, there might be few opportunities to laugh in the upcoming weeks. It would help if you took the moments while you can. Two hours isn't going to make a difference."

"I guess you're right," she said, taking a sip of water.

Lee stepped forward, checking that Fred and George weren't looking. "I'm just checking," he whispered in her ear. "We are still cool, right?"

"Lee, the Yule Ball years ago," said Isobel, keeping one eye on the door to ensure nobody heard. "We made our peace before you graduated, remember? Let's pretend it never happened."

Isobel walked away with her glass in hand and stepped out of the glass doors to the private commentary box. There was a row of six plastic flip-down seats next to Lee's booth, and the four of them slid through as Lee took to his stage. It was a stadium that looked like the city's football club, but magic had transformed it into the colours of the Monstrose Magpies. The seats alternated white and black, and their logo of a magpie was painted onto the grass of the pitch. The four of them watched as the Holyhead Harpies flew into the stadium in their Dark green robes, the gold lining shimmering in the sunlight.

"Welcome everybody to the second league game of the season!" Lee Jordan announced, "The Holyhead Harpies versus the reining champions, the Montrose Magpies!"

Isobel began to be in a trance. She saw the ladies fly past her on the pitch and felt exhilarated. It was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time, unique to the feeling when she was playing Quidditch herself. For a second, worries about Luna, Xeno, and Semperess washed away from her back, and she clapped and cheered like every other stadium fan.

"Look, there's Wilda Griffiths, one of the fastest women chasers in the world!" said Isobel excitedly as she pointed to the player with bright blonde hair flying below them.

"And the captain Gwenog Jones, up there," said Fred, pointing to a tall dark-skinned witch ordering the players to their positions.

Isobel looked at him curiously. She wasn't directly talking to him, but he had said something to her as if she were his friend.

"What? I'm a fan of women players," he shrugged, "and Ginny also has a picture of her in her room. She's her biggest fan."

"I thought she rooted for Chuddley Canons?" Charlie asked him as Isobel realised she had more in common with Ginny Weasley than she thought.

"That's Ron," said Fred. "Did you not get our letter before the wedding? We would get him tickets for his eighteenth before this all happened."

Isobel clapped the Magpies as Charlie stared at Fred over her head. The more she was around them, the clearer the Weasley family dynamic. Fred and George knew everything about the family, and Charlie was clueless. It appeared the siblings were in two halves, Bill being the head of the elder three and Fred and George the leaders of the younger three. They were responsible for Ron and Ginny and took that role very seriously.

"And the referee throws the starting Quaffle to start the game!" shouted Lee Jordan. 

The crowd erupted as fans from both teams cheered their favourite players. The play was unlike anything Isobel had ever seen; it was much faster than Hogwarts Quidditch, and you had to pay attention to keep up with where everyone was. It was a tribute to Lee's talent; he could see everything and report it in real-time. 

"Come on, Jones!" Isobel shouted as the team captain gained possession of the Quaffle. She was leaning over the barricade, watching the game as closely as possible. "Come on, Jones, pass it, yes, pass it, yes!"

"And Gwenog Jones manages to pass the Quaffle to Griffiths just in time for her to score!" announced Lee Jordan over the speakers.

"You really get into this, don't you?" Charlie asked her, grinning at her eagerness and clapping alongside the rest of the crowd. "I need to see you play sometime."

He then realised what he had said and immediately apologised. "Oh sorry I'm stupid, I'm sorry-"

"No, it's alright," Isobel smiled. She was having too much fun to get mad over a petty little thing like that. "It's probably for the best, I don't think you would've liked it. Brought out a whole different side of me."

Charlie argued against that, but they continued watching the game. She had forgotten that Charlie had played too at Hogwarts and had been the team Captain - so Quidditch was taken very seriously within their little viewing box. 

"And Campbell from the Magpies has possession of the Quaffle. He's flying towards the goalposts, dodges a Quaffle from the Harpies, and, oh, she loses the Quaffle to Wilda Griffiths. The referee has blown the whistle, meaning the game is paused as a foul decision is made."

Isobel threw her hands up in the air, angry at the decision. "Oh, what the hell, ref! That wasn't even a foul-"

"-are you blind?!" Fred shouted the exact words as she finished her rant. 

They both looked at each other, having said the same thing. Neither knew quite what to do.

"Terrible decision," said Fred flippantly as he tried to act it off.

"Yeah...totally," Isobel replied.

They tried not to do that for the rest of the match, and she saw Fred purposely holding back when she shouted at the game, but that didn't stop her from paying more attention to the boy beside her. They agreed on almost every call, and he had the same passion for the game as she did. Watching the game with him was almost enjoyable - if she could forget everything they disagreed on.

The afternoon ended on a high note as the Holyhead Harpies won, and Isobel strained her throat from cheering so loud. They stayed back in the room as Lee finished his work, and then they walked out into the city streets with the rest of the fans. Sundown was starting to creep in, casting a tranquil golden glow over the buildings surrounding them whilst the five discussed what they had just seen. Having all been Quidditch players except Lee, though he made up for it in knowledge, they were all quite excited about it and made a lot of muggles' heads turn by shouting the terms 'bludgers' and the 'golden snitch'.

After about twenty minutes, they reached Lee's building, a red stone structure about three floors high. His flat was on the third floor, and for its size, it was pretty spacious. It had two bedrooms, a separate living room and kitchen furnished quite fashionably, and a large window with views across the city. As they entered, a pot in the oven was bubbling away, so there wasn't any time to wait to eat - which was good because they were all hungry. It smelt beautiful with spices.

"So, do you see any of the old crew?" Lee asked later as Isobel carried the dishes from the dining table in the living room to Charlie, who was washing up at the sink in the Kitchen. Night had fallen now, and they were all tired, and for once - no tensions could be felt. 

"A few pop into the shop occasionally," said Fred as he took a sip of wine under the ceiling light, "but we're usually chained to Diagon Alley. We see Ron's friends more than ours."

"What about you?" George asked.

"Eh, I see Oliver sometimes when he's playing, of course," said Lee. "Katie and Alicia sometimes...Angelina probably visits the most, though. She says she misses you."

"Yeah, Fred, probably more than me, though," said George under his breath.

"No, both of you, actually," said Lee. "She said you hadn't written to her lately."

Isobel stood in the kitchen and strained her ears to listen. Fred and Angelina had been the on-and-off 'it' couple of Gryffindor House when they had been there. She yearned to know what happened to them.

"Well, we have been busy," said Fred. An answer Isobel thought relatively short for a discussion amongst best friends.

"C'mon, what happened between you two?" Lee asked. "You used to be close."

"Wanted different things," said Fred, and he leaned back on his chair to rest his hand on the back of his neck, "simple as that."

"We need to stay put for the family," George explained. "I don't think she quite understood that. We're always the ones around for Mum and Dad now that the others have moved away."

Isobel looked up at Charlie, and she noticed he had started to scrub the washing quite vigorously, to the point where it was making a squeaking noise. Eventually, Charlie squeezed the sponge too hard against a wine glass and broke it. Whether George meant it or not, Charlie had taken that as a dig. 

"Are you okay?" Isobel whispered to him as the others were too far out of earshot to hear the shatter, "You know they didn't me-"

"Yes, they did," said Charlie as he picked up the pieces of glass with his bare hands. At that moment, Isobel saw they had finally pushed Charlie too far, and his nonchalant persona slipped away. He held the shards of glass as if he was ready to be hurt, like if they fell and cut him—that would be punishment enough.

Charlie's absence was a tension point between the brothers for a few days now, and it was starting to grow, as Charlie's lack of knowledge had only caused Fred and George to make more comments.  Isobel had begun to understand where they were coming from as it was inconceivable to her how a person could know that little about recent events, but she knew it wasn't his fault. It was the ignorance she hoped to have when she could finally move out of the country. She didn't blame him for switching off his ears to the bad events and the constant doom and gloom if it didn't affect him.

"You just need to talk to them about it," said Isobel. They needed to communicate and reconnect, but she knew Charlie would have to initiate it.

Charlie stopped what he was doing and hung his head over the sink. His hands gripped the counter, releasing the glass from his grasp, and a disappointed sigh escaped his frowning lips. Isobel thought she had made things worse.

 "I thought Ginny supported Chuddley Canons," he said to her, his tanned skin illuminating bronze in the moonlight, "and I had completely forgotten about the tickets for Ron's birthday. For Merlin's sake, I don't know anything about my own brothers and sisters."

"That's not true," Isobel refuted kindly, placing her hand on his back. "You've been busy, and it's easy to forget things. And with the teams—you have so many siblings that it's hard to keep track of who supports who."

"Yeah, see, that's the thing," said Charlie, chuckling sorrowfully. "Those two are busy, and yet they remember everything. I'm meant to be the big brother, yet they put me to shame. They're respected, they have their own business, yet they always have time for the family or help when there's a crisis."

"It's only because they have the benefit of being here," Isobel replied.

"Yeah," Charlie huffed, "and I'm forever known as the son and brother who flew away and abandoned the family."

"That's not the case."

"Iz, you've heard them, and I know they're not the only family members to think it. Everyone loves them, and I'm the black sheep."

"Hardly," said Isobel, "you're not a black sheep just because you work abroad, and I wouldn't say everyone loves them either."

"You know, I think that's why I like you," he said, smiling sadly as he turned to her. "You're the first person in a while who's liked me more than them."

He kissed her on the forehead and then returned to the living room without drying his hands. He didn't stop to talk to his brothers and Lee but walked straight into the hallway towards the bedrooms, leaving her alone and thinking about what he had just said. 

That was why he liked her? Because she didn't idolise his brothers like everyone else?

Surely, that's not what he meant.

No, she thought to herself as she shook her head, she was overthinking it.

She wiped the water that had splashed around the sink with a towel and turned around to join the other room. To her surprise, she saw Fred staring at her over his drink before slowly looking back at Lee Jordan, who happily argued with George over who pulled the best prank on Oliver Wood at Hogwarts. 

She ignored him and sat back down at the table and acted as if nothing was wrong. As, after all, the Weasleys were not a family she would ever want to get in the middle of.

***

It was a restless night. Isobel tossed and turned on the sofa, unable to go to sleep. She chose to sleep there as there were more boys and girls, so Fred and George took Lee's spare room whilst Charlie slept on Lee's floor. She lazily reached into her bag to try and rummage for her lavender spray, which helped her fall asleep when she had trouble, and she was happy to find that she had brought it with her this time as she had previously left it at the Weasleys when going to Diagon Alley. Isobel sat up, fluffed her pillows, and spritzed them three times with the spray.

That wouldn't work entirely thought, she needed a drink, so she decided to get up and quietly walk into the kitchen to make some tea. She rummaged through the cupboard and found a spare teabag left in an old box, but no sugar, and she put the kettle on and enchanted a silencing charm so it didn't wake anyone up. Once it was done, she set the teapot down on the dining room table and got a mug from the cupboard - it had the Gryffindor crest on it, but she was too tired to look for anything else.

"What are you doing up?" asked a voice. She wasn't expecting someone to be around, so she jumped, hit her knee on the table, and almost lost her grip on the mug.

"Oh my god," she huffed as she saw who it was and regained her balance, "George, you scared me!"

"I'll note that on my list of achievements," said George. "What is it? Can't sleep?"

He was standing in his cotton grey pyjamas, borrowed from Lee. The legs of his trousers hung halfway down his leg due to the height difference between him and his friend.

"I don't sleep well in new places," she told him as she pulled a chair out to sit down and rubbed her knee, "You?"

"Same here," George replied dully. His eyes were slightly red at the bottom. "I thought I'd get a drink to help me sleep."

"Already made some tea if you want some," Isobel suggested. They had a big day of planning tomorrow, so it was in her best interest that he be well-rested. She wouldn't be able to drink it all anyway.

"Thanks," said George, entering the kitchen. He slumped as he opened the cupboard to get his mug, and his nose scrunched up as if something peculiar had just wafted past his senses. "Can you smell something strange in here? Like flowers?"

"Oh yeah, I use this lavender spray on my pillow to help me sleep. It gets on my clothes," said Isobel. "I'm sorry. Are you allergic?"

She didn't know why she was apologising.

George looked like a lightbulb went off in his head. "Lavender?" he asked over his shoulder. "How long have you used that?"

"Since fourth year," Isobel answered as she leaned forward to reach for the kettle, "that's when the troubles started. Surely you've heard of it as a remedy?"

"Oh yeah, I have," said George, "it's just...interesting."

He found a mug and closed the cupboard door. Isobel thought he wasn't telling her the truth but decided not to pry and pour herself a tea. She wasn't exactly the best at honesty, either.

"I can sit with you if you want," said George, turning to her and looking sheepish. "I know I'm not Charlie, but I'm good company."

Isobel looked at him suspiciously, and he noticed it, which prevented him from meeting her eyes. It was quite an unusual situation, and she didn't believe it. "Why are you being nice to me?" she asked him. "Isn't our thing trying to stay the furthest away from each other at all times?"

At first, he tried calming her down when they were at the Ministry, hiding her from onlookers who could get her in trouble. Now, he wanted to sit with her and keep her company voluntarily in the middle of the night. She wondered if he had another motive to do so as George walked forward and leant against the back of one of the dining room chairs.

"It must have been hard, being a muggle-born and hearing that last night," George explained. "It doesn't erase what's been done in the past, but you're going through a lot right now, and nobody deserves to be with those thoughts alone."

George Weasley's empathy took Isobel aback. She never would have expected it, especially towards her. However, perhaps it was because of the midnight hour or because she felt conflicted about having fun today at the Quidditch match, she found herself wanting to accept his offer. She felt the need to talk to someone to distract herself.

"Then sure," she said, gesturing for him to sit on the chair he was leaning against. "I don't know where he keeps the sugar, so it's just milk with tea water, but it's still good."

George half-smiled and sat down on the chair. He saw the teapot on the table and reached for it, pouring the creamy beige liquid out of it.

"Promise it's not poisoned?" he asked as he lifted the mug to his mouth. He wasn't asking seriously, and she appreciated the joke.

"Oh, if I wanted to poison you, I've dreamt of more creative ways," she teased him lightly.

"Dark, I like it."

George and Isobel drank their tea silently for the next ten minutes or so. The sounds of the city kept their ears entertained and made Isobel feel slightly more at ease. Hearing muggles about, just living their everyday lives, going out partying or hanging out with friends - gave her hope. They had no idea of the Wizarding World, and what threats they would face if Voldermort and the Ministry got worse. It was blissful ignorance, and Isobel was jealous but wanted them to stay that way. She wouldn't admit it to him either, but having George there did make her feel safer.

"Lunas tough, you know. She'll be okay in there until we find them," said George after he had drained his cup empty. "And we will find them; you don't need to worry."

"That's even if she's in there," Isobel sighed as her finger traced around the edge of her mug.

"You don't think she is?" George asked.

Isobel shrugged and put her elbows on the table. It had been a thought of hers that maybe everything wasn't as it seemed. "I don't know," she said, "it's just with what Draco did, using her as a bargaining chip-"

She paused mid-sentence. George didn't know about that. It was only Fred. Though she could tell them apart, with sleepy eyes, it was hard not to think she was talking to the other.

"It's okay. Fred tells me everything," said George. "He told me as soon as we went to bed last night."

"And you're...okay with what he said?" Isobel asked cautiously.

"No, I don't appreciate you hiding stuff from us," said George, "but unlike my brother, I see why you did it. We wouldn't have believed you, and that's the honest truth. I certainly wouldn't have had anyway."

Isobel nodded. This was closer to what she was expecting, unlike Fred's the other day. George seemed the more level-headed of the two. "Well then, you know, he was using her as a bargaining chip," she said. "How would he be able to do that if she was stuck inside a prison? Draco, as a single person, wouldn't have that much power to get her out when it's Ministry-controlled, would he?"

"It's hard to tell," said George as he thought about it, leaning onto the table also, "but you might be onto something. I guess we'll just have to see when we get there."

"Wait? Get there?" Isobel asked, "You seriously want to go to that thing?"

"It's the only way we're going to find out if Luna and Xeno are in there," George answered.

"But it's a prison," said Isobel. "The only way to get in is to be a prisoner or a guard. We can't get in; it's too risky."

"Not if you think big instead of small," said George, "we'll think of something."

"But there's got to be a better way! What about the list of names Theo gave us?" Isobel suggested, "we've only just started searching most of them, they could have more information on semperess. We could learn how it works before barging in their blind."

George pondered for a moment. "That would make way more sense," he said, to her surprise. "To be honest that was Fred plan, he's just so keen to get this over with."

"So he wouldn't have to see me any longer, I presume?" Isobel mumbled.

"No, he just hates seeing injustice," said George. "He fights for what he believes is right. He may be impulsive, but so am I - I follow his lead until logic needs to step in. It's not his strongest trait."

"Finally, something we can agree on," Isobel smiled.

"To firsts," said George, and their mugs rattled together as he confirmed their first agreement.

"You know, you're not so bad when you don't overthink it," said George as Isobel sipped her last drop. "I saw you at the match today; you were almost like a normal person."

"Thank you...I think," said Isobel, the words shocking her, "yes, I can be normal at times; I'm not an alien."

George pulled a humorous face as if to disagree with her but in a friendly way. She saw a twinkle in his eyes as he did it and couldn't tell if that was the reflection from the stars in the sky. "I wish we could've seen it more at Hogwarts," he said.

"Well, it's not like I had much time to show myself around you, did I?" Isobel replied sarcastically, 'we were always destined for separate directions."

George tilted his head as if to ponder a thought and moved his mug forward, allowing him to lean forward and rest his arms fully along the table. "Well, how about this?" he proposed, "we call a truce. Just for however long this goes on. We're moving in the same direction now, and I think things would be a lot easier if we got on. So what do you say? Forget for a couple of weeks?"

Isobel thought about it. She had hated the Weasley twins for years and had never wanted to be friends with them. But that was before Luna went missing, and she was forced to rely on them for her company. She agreed that it would be easier not to be so awkward all the time and that if they got on, they might be able to work with each other more easily. However, she didn't trust him. Though Fred had always been the big bad, George had never really given her a reason to trust him either.

"Oh, come on, you need a friend here," said George, raising his right eyebrow. "One who knows what you're going through and isn't going to try and kiss you to shut you up."

This made her think about him kissing her, and she would never thank him for getting that image in her head. 

So, he knew about Charlie too. Fred really had told him everything.

"I'd hope not," Isobel laughed, "but wouldn't Fred not approve of you saying this?"

"Well, we don't do everything together, you know," said George as he stuck out his hand for her to shake, though he did quiet his voice as his brother was mentioned, "I'm sick of fighting. It's too tiring. I want peace, for Luna's sake. It's what she would've wanted. You're a smart girl, so I know you'll see the value in this."

Calling her smart was the best way to compliment Isobel, and hearing it from George was even more flattering because, in a small sense, it felt like she had won over all their years of feuding. It fed her ego, and it worked; she was too tired to carry on fighting, too - at least with the pair of them. With Fred, she could handle fighting him for the rest of her life. It was second nature to her. 

"Peace it is," said Isobel, and she shook George's hand.

His hand was big but warm, and he squeezed hers as they let go. It felt nice, and as they sat together for their first time with a metaphorical clean slate, Isobel had a fleeting thought that this felt unusually normal.

"Right, well, now that we're best friends," said George, leaning forward immediately with a delightfully cheeky smile as if he had been waiting to do this for a while. "Tell me, Monroe, who's the better kisser, my brother or Malfoy?"

Isobel laughed at the pure shock of the question. It was the first genuine laugh she had ever shared with him, and she didn't feel offended by it. A clean slate was a clean slate, and she would indulge in it as much as he would. "Okay, we are not close enough to that conversation yet."

Chapter Text

"You just put your tongue through it and blow."

"But I can't get it through without breaking it."

"No, trust me, you just need to be gentle, slowly slide it in and blow, see?"

Isobel blew in her mouth, and a bright pink bubblegum bubble came out from her lips. It became rather impressive in size, and then it popped, retracting quickly back in.

"See why I cannot do that!" said George as he stuck his tongue out, blue bubblegum spread all around it.

"Because you just haven't practised enough," Isobel replied kindly, "but you'll get it one day! Us muggles have had it for years."

They were walking back to Lee's flat carrying massive white shopping bags full of food. It had been two weeks, having long overstayed their welcome, and the time had only made her and George spend more time together. She had gotten to know him as an individual rather than part of a double act, and she had begun to...like him.

"We could do something like this for the shop, you know. Well, when we rebuild it," said George, thinking, "we could make them all different flavours!"

"I guess so," said Isobel, "but wouldn't you want to push it further? Muggles have different flavours, so it wouldn't be that special."

George tried again at blowing a bubble and failed, though he was not disappointed in it—if anything, it gave him an idea. "We could have multi-flavours, like whole dinners or breakfasts!"

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Isobel as they entered Lee's building, "I saw a movie about a man who tried to do that once, and he ended up turning a girl into a blueberry."

They walked up the stairs, their arms hanging low with the bags. "Well, that's a movie, that's fiction. We can make it real with magic," George smiled. "Anything is possible."

Isobel looked over her shoulder at him. "You two really do believe that, don't you?"

"Of course," said George, "you can never achieve anything by thinking small."

Isobel unlocked the door (Lee had only trusted her with the key), and the two made their way in, still laughing about George's experiments with bubblegum.

"We just have to make sure to make the bubbles extra big," said George as they entered the hallway, "the size of Quaffles."

"Now that I'd want to try," said Isobel.

"Ahem."

The pair looked up to see Fred and Charlie waiting for them in the kitchen. Fred and Charlie had taken it upon themselves to check off most of the houses Theo had given them on his list, and they were out most days, hence giving George and Isobel a lot of time to bond. However, the reasons for them continuously going and leaving the others at home had become extremely vague. They said they were the most willing to risk themselves, though Isobel had a nagging feeling that neither wanted to leave the other alone with her.

"Where have you two been?" asked Fred.

"Getting food," George answered as he placed his bags on the dining table, "someone has to ensure we don't starve."

"Did you get seen?" asked Charlie.

"Of course not," said Isobel as she put her bags down. "We were safe. We were stuck in dark, scary alleyways where no one could hear us if we screamed."

"That's not funny," said Charlie with a straight face.

"Kind of is," George shrugged and he and Isobel shared a smile.

"We visited another house this morning," said Fred, "and we found something interesting. You might want to sit down."

Most days had been a bust with little information being found, so Isobel and George were not the most enthusiastic when they sat down to listen to what they had to say.

"So, as you know, we went to the Parkinson house," said Charlie.

"Yes, I remember that because you fought against me going," said Isobel. "Even though I know her better than any of you."

"For your safety," Charlie insisted.

"For the record, I would've had you come," said Fred, interjecting and touching his hand on his chest.

Charlie gave him a disapproving look, and George and Isobel looked equally confused.

"Only because the thought of going through Pansy Parkinson's bedroom made me want to be physically sick," said Fred, gagging at the thought of it.

"So what did you find?" Isobel asked, wanting to move on. She was curious as to what Pansy would be hiding, as she was the queen of secrets of lies at Hogwarts.

"Papers, in her dad's study," said Charlie, "very organised guy, had files labelled for practically everything and anything."

"He had a lovely one titled Semperess, but he made that nugget especially hard to find," Fred continued. "But not hard enough for me."

"So, did you find out where it is?" asked George, his eyes full of hope.

"No," said Fred, and George slumped back in his seat, "because the papers inside that file had a page ripped out of the clasp, and that section was labelled location. Everything else was in code, and I couldn't understand a word for it."

"So find the missing paper...find Semperess," said Isobel.

Fred grinned and snapped his fingers. "Ten points to Ravenclaw."

"So, who do you think took it?" George asked. "If it's ripped, it was probably stolen."

"Well, that's the other thing," said Charlie, reaching into his pocket to pull something out of it. "We found copies of this all over his desk. This one was on top."

Charlie placed the piece of parchment down, and George and Isobel leant forward to read it. It was a 'Wanted' poster for a short, wide man with a cigar falling from his mouth that was hanging over his large gold chain. The words said, "Mundungus Fletcher is wanted by The Ministry for the accusations of theft and for conspiracy to rebel. Must be handed over to the Ministry immediately. Reward: 1000 galleons."

"Mundungus took it?" George asked, "But why?"

"It's valuable," Fred shrugged, "and he goes after whatever is valuable."

"Or someone put him up to it," Charlie conspired.

Isobel stared harder at the poster. It triggered a vague memory of hers.

"I know this guy," she said, her fingers tracing the outline of Mundungus's face.

"Well, yeah, he's in the Order, kind of," said George.

"No," said Isobel, and she tapped the poster as he tried to remember, "I was a replacement for him that night we took Harry to the burrow, remember? I didn't meet him. It's from somewhere else."

She thought harder. She tried to place where she had seen this little man. Then she noticed the medallion on his chain, and it sparked a memory of booze, flashing lights, and the touch of Draco Malfoy as they danced together.

"I think I've seen him in a club before...somewhere dark," said Isobel.

"Ah, well, now this makes sense," said Fred. He unfolded a flyer from his jean pocket and flung it onto the table. "This was in Pansy's room, amongst other undesirable objects."

It was a nightclub flyer for a place called Tru Poison. She knew it, she had been there before. Pansy was hosting a club night there tonight, and in big red letters there was written the word "Fletcher," which had obviously been written by Pansy herself.

"Yes, this is where I've seen him!" said Isobel, "Pansy invited us here a few times, and they always talked to him. He's a dealer or something."

"And when you say we, do you mean?" asked George.

"Yes, the Slytherins," Isobel replied sheepishly. Now that she had become friends with George, she was more embarrassed of her past.

"And you said Mundungus deals there?" asked Charlie, "deals what?"

Isobel didn't quite know what to say if the idea hadn't come to him already. Her face contorted, and that was all she had to do to get Fred and George to understand.

"Oh my Merlin," said Fred, and he leaned on the chair in front of him towards her with his mouth open, "don't tell me Busy-Izzy has done drugs?"

"Drugs?" Charlie asked, his eyes widening, "that's what he dealt? To school kids?"

"Charlie, that is the most like mum you've ever sounded," said George.

"I didn't take any alright," Isobel said defensively.

Fred raised his eyebrows at her.

"Not after the first time anyway!" she said, "It made me act funny."

"Oh my god," said George, who was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, "this is brilliant."

"You may have just earned a little bit of my respect," said Fred, most thoroughly entertained by all this. "Busy -Izzy breaking the rules. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Can you please stop calling me that," she snapped.

"So after he gave all you fifteen-year-old girls drugs, what did he do?" Charlie asked. He was astounded that none of the others in the room saw the seriousness of the accusation.

"I don't know, he just hung around talking to the muggle partygoers," Isobel continued, "I think Pansy's parents owned the place, so we were always in a booth away from the main crowd, but I could see him. I think they employed him."

"Which is how they know he'll be there tonight," said Fred. "He has to keep up appearances, doesn't he. Right, we go there tonight, then."

"You want to go clubbing?" Isobel scoffed. She couldn't imagine any of them stepping into a muggle club.

"Yeah, what's the problem?" Fred asked. "Have to get Semperess's location somehow."

"This is Pansys club, she'll recognise us," she argued.

"She'll recognise you," said Fred, "and that's what I'm counting on."

***

"How is it this cold? It's September!" George complained as he crossed his arms and shivered in the night air.

They were in the queue at Tru Poison, having apparated from Manchester to Southampton. Lee Jordan had another match to commentate so unfortunately wasn't able to join them.

"We're by the sea," said Isobel, "and I told you to bring a jacket. Of course you're going to freeze in a T-shirt."

They were all grouped behind a red velvet rope next to a thin black building that housed the club's front, which was all underneath. Beats and vibrations poured out the door and flowed into the streets, filled with university students and young people travelling the pubs for a good time. It was electric, like the neon red apple placed above the entrance doors.

"So, how are we getting in?" asked Charlie behind Isobel. They had little clothes between them, so he had borrowed a maroon shirt from Lee.

"You mean you haven't got tickets?" Isobel asked him.

"How are we supposed to get tickets?" Fred asked beside her. "We don't have muggle money, do we?"

Isobel couldn't believe it. It had been his whole idea to come here, yet he hadn't planned a thing. "Then how did you expect us to get in?" she replied.

"Oh, that's easy," he said, "you."

"Me? How?" Isobel asked him.

"You know the owner," said Fred.

"Yeah, I know her," Isobel replied, "she has also hated me ever since I left the Inquisitorial Squad."

"Eh, teething issues," Fred said, dismissing her as he straightened his black shirt.

"So none of you have a real plan on getting us in?" Isobel asked the group.

They all shook their heads. It was down to her to get them in.

"Right," said Isobel, "I can't believe it's come to this, but you've left me no choice."

She took off her coat and gave it to Charlie, who seemed happy to take it as it revealed her  strapless black dress which was as tight and short as the other girls' dresses standing outside. Lee apparently had it hanging around from a girl he once had stay over. Smiling, she flicked her curled hair back and pushed her chest out as she walked in front of the group of boys waiting in front of them to talk to the bouncer guarding the entrance doors. She recognised him, so she decided to play it friendly.

"Hey Dave," she said flirtatiously to the tall and tattooed man, who had already seen her coming. "I wondered if you could let me and my group in. It's freezing out here."

"Oh, I remember you," Dave said. "You've grown up. Who's in your group? The usual?"

She tried to ignore the way he was focusing south of her face. "Oh, no, me and my brothers," she said, pointing to the three Weasleys. Fred and George gave a little wave, but Charlie just frowned at the man.

"Brothers?" the man asked. Their universal red features made it hard to believe that they and Isobel were related.

"Well, of course," she said, touching him by his bicep because she felt he would react nicer to that. "Do you really think I'd be with them otherwise? They're not my type. You know I like my guys rugged."

This was a lie, he repulsed her, but she only said that to appeal to his ego.

"Didn't use to be if I remember rightly," Dave replied, looking down at her hand on his arm and smirking, "you were with those posh boys."

Draco, Theo, and Blaise had always been rude to him and anyone working there.

"Well, as you said, I've matured now," Isobel told him, and she looked at his lips and smiled as she bit her lip. Pansy had taught her that trick.

"Ah, okay. I'll let you in," he said, undoing the red rope to let her in. "But you save me a drink inside, yeah?"

Isobel fought the urge to vomit in her mouth. "Of course."

She turned around as she desperately felt the need to have the Weasleys with her. "Come on guys, he's letting us in!" she shouted to them.

They all happily pushed in front of the group of boys, causing them all to complain drunkenly.

"So glad we could reach an agreement," Isobel said to Dave, now feeling better with backup around her, and she blew a kiss to seal the deal.

The Weasleys followed her through the doors, and they walked down the darkened stairs into the club's main hall. It was just how she remembered it to be: dark, dingy, and smoke-filled to the extent that it made you extremely thirsty - forcing you to buy more drinks.

"Well done Monroe, I think I saw him adjusting his trousers as we walked in," Fred shouted in her ear as they walked towards the dancing crowd.

"Eh, he was a pig," Isobel shouted back, "I knew how to get him."

"What did you say to him to get us in?" Charlie asked, "you didn't promise him anything, did you?"

"Ew, no, I would never let that man come anywhere near me," said Isobel with a disgusted expression, "there's not a man in here that I would let kiss me."

"Except you, of course," she added when Charlie looked hurt.

"Let's locate Pansy," George shouted to the group, "where would she be?"

"Up those stairs," said Isobel, and she pointed to a room just off a tall staircase. It was a dark room with a window to the dance floor, but velveted purple curtains were drawn across it. A security guard blocked the stairs, so they couldn't get up there.

"If Mundungus is already up there, we need to draw her out," said Fred, "so Monroe needs to stay in the light by the dance floor as bait while the rest of us look for him."

"I really don't think I have the hold on her that you think I do," Isobel said to him as she checked that he wand was still secure in her heeled boots.

"Oh, trust me, you do," said Fred. "You were the only girl she was ever threatened by. It was obvious."

It came out so naturally and without any hint of spite that Isobel could only believe it true. Fred seemed to observe a lot more than she thought he did.

"Right, well, you two search for Mundungus, and we'll dance," said Charlie, holding Isobel's hand.

"Sounds good to me," said George.

Fred held Charlie by his shoulders, stopping him from moving. "Actually, I think it's best if-"

"No, Fred. We're dancing," said Charlie, roughly shaking his shoulder out of Fred's hands. He had had enough of Fred's interjecting. He pulled Isobel away from the group, and she couldn't help but feel a little excited. Seeing Charlie finally stand up for them as a pair made him more attractive than she already saw him to be.

He brought her to the middle of the dance floor, where the largest light in the room shone down on the crowd. Waiters were constantly coming around with drink refills, and when Charlie went to take one, Isobel slapped his hand away.

"Just in case," said Isobel, "those drinks made me do some crazy things."

"I'll take your word for it," said Charlie, and he nodded at the waiter as he moved on.

Isobel slid her arms over his shoulders. She hadn't heard songs that reminded her of home for a while, and the DJ seemed to be playing a roster of nostalgic songs. A slow song came on, and within the sea of people, it felt like they finally had some privacy just to be normal and dance together.

"So you finally stood up to him then," she said as they swayed.

"Well, I wasn't having him take you away from me again," said Charlie, and he bent his head down so that their foreheads touched, "especially now that you are not dressed as my sister."

Isobel couldn't help but smile. Charlie had come so quickly into her life that she couldn't even remember why she felt so comfortable with him.

"Well, I'm glad we spent this time together now," she said. "It almost feels normal."

"I don't even know what normal is these days," Charlie sighed. His eyeline fell to the ground, and Isobel noticed he was holding something back.

"Do you miss Romania?" she asked him.

"Sometimes," he answered truthfully, "I miss my Dragons, my friends, how much simpler it all was over there."

Though she asked, this wasn't the answer Isobel wanted. She could hear Fred's voice in her mind, telling her he would leave—that he couldn't handle it when things got hard. Her smile faded as the dance floor lights coated them in blue.

"But being here has made me how much I miss this," said Charlie, "being home, seeing mum and dad, looking over my brothers and sister."

Isobel's happiness reappeared. Her eyes fluttered upwards to see his eyes meet hers, and she looked at him with hope.

"Is that all you would miss if you went back?" she asked tentatively.

Charlie smirked, and he looked down at her lips, returning to her eyes with fascination. "I think I've got more than a few reasons to stick around," he said.

They kissed under the bright lights, and Charlie took her nerves away like a plaster to a bleeding wound. The pounding of the music repeated in her heart, and it didn't stop, continuing as the songs played on and on. For five songs or more, she and Charlie acted like the crowd was their invisibility cloak for their own seven minutes in heaven.

"Hey, let her breathe Charlie for god sake," said Fred disgustedly as he pulled Charlie back by the collar of his neck.

Both Isobel and Charlie were pulled out of their bubble, and they were annoyed at him for ruining their moment, giving him disdainful glares.

"George needs you in the back," Fred told Charlie.

"That was quick," Isobel snapped. She didn't believe a word he said after he made it clear that he wanted her and Charlie separated.

"Yeah, because we're efficient," Fred mockingly replied back, "so hop to it, brother. I'll take over for you."

"Why me?" Charlie asked frustratedly.

"And there will be no taking over," said Isobel. He was disturbed if he thought she would ever kiss him.

"We found Mundungus in the men's toilets," said Fred, ignoring Isobel completely, "and he's refusing to talk to us unless it's an Order member. You're one, so you're up."

Though this was exactly why they had come here, Isobel felt slightly disheartened that they had found Mundungus so quickly. She had started to enjoy herself, and Mungungus's appearance was the only thing she knew Charlie would leave her for. They knew they would only have little moments like this in sprinkles, especially since they were on the run, but she was starting to wish it could be easier for them.

"I'll be right back," Charlie told her. He begrudgingly stepped back and slipped through the crowd to disappear, Isobel wanting to follow him.

"Uh-uh, you're staying here, remember? " Fred said as she stepped forward, lightly tapping her back by her chest.

"Really?" she asked as she tried to push past him again, "Pansy isn't coming down, Fred. It's not working. We have Mundungus so let's question him!"

"No, you are staying here," Fred ordered, and he blocked her exit and held her still, "you are our insurance with Pansy."

Unable to do anything, not even use her wand as this was a public place, Isobel had no choice but to stay put. She went to cross her arms as she refused to dance, but Fred pulled her in by placing his hands on her waist.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked alarmingly at his touch. She thought of stomping on his feet with the heel on her boot.

"I think it's called dancing," Fred told her, "if you remember, we've done it before."

"Not like this," said Isobel. This was different than the Ministry. This was a club, and people danced with each other for far less innocent reasons. 

"Monroe, this is a party," said Fred, like he was teaching her a basic fact. "We have to act like it."

"But if Pansy sees me with you, she'll know something is up," Isobel muttered as she tried to come up with an excuse to get him off, "she'll be furious, she'll be confused she'll-"

"Want to know why the hell we are dancing with each other and come straight down to break us up," Fred smiled. "Genius, right?"

Isobel stood staring at him, the flashing lights making him disappear and reappear with each second. He had her stumped, and for once, she could not disagree. If doing this meant Pansy would come down and end this quicker than it started, it would be a worthy sacrifice. 

"It's a good concept of a plan," she told him, "but I'm not calling it genius."

"I'll accept that," said Fred, pulling her arms around him and placing her hand around his neck. "Now stop arguing and start dancing before people start staring at us, please."

Isobel was relieved that no slow songs came about in the next few minutes, which meant they could dance and didn't have to talk to each other. However, it started to get very hot in there, as the club had reached full capacity. The only thing stopping her and Fred from being thoroughly pressed against each other was Fred's hands, which resisted the pressure when Isobel was bumped into and kept them at a respectable distance. Each time it happened, she felt his hands grab against her skin for a split second or two. Either he didn't want her that close, or he respected her boundaries. She didn't consider either a bad thing.

"So this is where you came with the Inquisitorial Squad," he said after a while as the song switched to a quieter pop song instead of a loud dance track. "Reminding you of good memories, is it?"

"Not really," Isobel replied, not taking his bait and looking over his shoulder, "I prefer present company."

Fred looked quite flattered, so she quickly followed up to set him straight. 

"Charlie," she said.

"So what drugs was it?" he asked, starting what she could only assume was a long list of agonising questions, "I couldn't imagine you just taking anything given to you without asking questions first."

Isobel didn't want to remember. She knew Fred wouldn't like the details, and they had only begun acting civil to each other—if you could call what they had civil. "I don't know," she said, avoiding his eyes and looking straight into his chest. "I don't even remember taking anything to be honest, but it must have been in liquid form because I did have a few drinks, and then I started feeling really strange. It was that night that I kissed Draco for the first time."

She hoped bringing up Draco would deter him from the subject.

"Had you...felt that way about him before?" Fred asked.

She was surprised he had asked a follow-up question. "No," she replied, "I was still grieving Cedric. But I realised I must have liked him deep down because I kissed him. It all happened so quick."

Fred nodded and tried to hide a smile. He looked elsewhere but Isobel used her hands on his neck to turn him back to her.

"What?" she asked him.

"I don't know how to break this to you," he said, still trying not to smile, "but I'm 99% per cent sure the 'drug' you took was a love potion."

"A love potion?" Isobel asked, "why do you think that?"

Fred was happy to get her attention and share his expertise on something she didn't know. "We sell it ourselves; I recognise the signs. But we only sell it to girls, though," he emphasised. "It's a weaker version, and they're often harmless, but boys often have much darker motives. That's why we never sell it to men."

"You shouldn't be selling it all," said Isobel, "it takes away all consent."

"Hey, ours lasts off after half an hour and only makes the drinker have an impulse close to being tipsy," said Fred sternly, "Draco surely wasn't that kind - your anger should be with him."

"But why would he drug me like that?" asked Isobel.

Fred squinted at her, like he didn't know why she didn't know the answer to that question. "Because he wanted you," he told her, "and unlike most guys, he didn't have the decency to wait his turn."

Isobel tried to remember that night with this new theory in mind. She could only remember parts of it, but she did remember ultimately changing her opinions on Draco and feeling bolder after a few drinks. She could never remember anything he did to make her like him in that way.

"Well, that does make it somewhat clearer," she said, her eyes glazed over with the memory, "something was always missing with us. I couldn't put my finger on it."

"Yeah, I never saw you two as right for each other."

"Oh really?" 

"No one did," he said, "he was...well, Draco, and you were a smart girl."

"Were?" said Isobel, coming out of her daze to the present, "so I'm stupid now?"

Fred gripped her waist and pulled her into his body, looking down at her like he was about to tell her a secret. He spoke so softly that Isobel could barely hear him over the music.  "You were only stupid when you were with him."

As the lights flickered over them, Isobel discovered the golden tints in his eyes for the first time. They were a soft spot in a harsh expression, and for a moment, she was hypnotized. "Is that a backhanded compliment?" she asked.

He didn't respond immediately; he just lingered in her eyes as the people danced around them. She thought perhaps he was battling against himself not to say a witty comment and just answer truthfully. "Don't spend it all at once," he said, and just as she got a hint of bonfire smoke, his hands squeezed her to push her away, restoring their respectable distance between them.

Isobel was usually against being manhandled at any time, especially as blatant as that, but Fred caught her off guard by moving her away. She started to feel deflated and weak like she was suddenly coming down from a high of a more potent drug than Draco had ever given her.  

"Excuse me," said a deep voice as Isobel's ears faded in and out of clear hearing.

They looked to their right and saw two tall, burly men in black suits standing before them.

"Miss Monroe, you need to come with us," said the man with a shaved head. "Madame Pansy wants to see you."

Pansy's bodyguards. Isobel never knew why she needed them whenever she was around muggles, given that she had magical abilities, but they were always here as her muscles. 

"Then she can come down and see me," said Isobel, who felt brave.

The man lifted her arms off Fred like they were light as feathers, gripping her like handcuffs. "She doesn't take an answer," he said, "and neither do we."

"Oi, she's not going anywhere without me," said Fred, standing up to the man and reaching for her, just missing her arm.

"What are you doing? " Isobel mouthed to him. This was their plan all along, he wanted Pansy to see her.

"Fair enough, as you wish," said the other man, and he grabbed Fred's arms too, placing them both in a hold similar to an arrest. They pushed Fred and Isobel forward, forcing them around the crowd and towards the stairs where Pansy's private booth was.

"You should've stayed quiet. She didn't want you," Isobel whispered to Fred as they walked side by side up the stairs. "You could've gone and got the others."

"Are you kidding?" Fred whispered back. "She knows who I am, who I'm friends with, so why did she ask to see you alone? Something's not right. You're not going in there by yourself."

They were pushed to the top of the stairs and entered the upstairs room through a black bolted door where the sound was blocked out due to the Silencio charm being placed in the archway. It was like something out of the Moulin Rouge: lavish satin chairs, a private bar, and a private room that Isobel never entered but saw boys frequently walk out of.  Pansy used to call it her 'Parlour room', but she never asked questions about that. At the window, overlooking her subjects, was Pansy Parkinson, dressed in a leather catsuit that left little to the imagination. Her bob was slicked into a little bun at the back of her head, but her fringe was deadly straightened, cut as blunt as her expression.

"Bought her up for you, Madame," said the guard holding Isobel, "but she had a little friend who wanted to see you two."

"Oh, how foolish," said Pansy, turning around to see them both. "You Weasley's just can't stay in your place, can you?"

Her darkened, cold eyes landed on him as she slowly strutted over to them in six-inch heels, making her tower over Isobel but slightly smaller than Fred. She walked up to him and placed a hand on his chest, rubbing it and feeling him up. He stood there and took it unfazed, but Isobel tried to shake herself out of her bodyguard's grip. "Such a shame," Pansy tutted as she pouted, "you were always my favourite...if only you had explored your dark side. Put him with the others, will you?"

"The others?" Isobel questioned as the guard pulled Fred away towards the spare room. The guard opened the door, and inside, she saw George, Charlie, and Mundungus Fletcher all tied up with cloths covering their mouths. Fred was thrown in there, and he was immediately bound with magic. The door closed so she couldn't see them anymore.

"Ah, finally, just us girls," said Pansy with a devilish smile. "Do have a seat, Isobel."

Pansy walked over to the sitting area, where two teardrop-shaped velvet sofas were placed facing each other on a mat made with the fur of an unspecified animal. Isobel timidly walked away from the guard, who released his grip on her, and sat opposite her on the sofa with a clear view of the spare room.

"What do you want?" Isobel asked, keeping one eye on the door. 

"Straight to the point as always," Pansy smirked as she crossed one leg over the other. "Me and you have a lot to catch up on, don't we Monroe."

"We have nothing to talk about," Isobel muttered.

"Oh yes, we do," said Pansy, a glimmer in her eye, "because otherwise, I can give one snap of my fingers, and I'll have the snatchers here in seconds. Ready to take your little mudblood butt to Semperess."

It was a threat she knew Pansy would keep too, as Isobel had seen her evil cross no bounds. She wasn't naive enough to think she wasn't in danger here, so she played Pansy. The only way she knew how was by challenging her. Pansy was never challenged and had never learned how to handle it. 

"That's new," said Isobel, sitting back on the sofa to portray indifference to her situation.

"What is?" asked Pansy.

"Calling me a mudblood, you've never called me that before," she replied, "and you said it with such little confidence that I could hardly believe you meant it."

Pansy shifted in her seat uncomfortably, and Isobel realized it had already started working. Perhaps Fred had been right; she threatened Pansy because she was the only one not scared enough to call her out on her discrepancies. 

"Why would you be stupid enough to come here?" Pansy asked, "do you have some kind of death wish?"

"Can't a girl just want a fun time?" Isobel replied.

"Not when it's with the Weasley boys," said Pansy. "You hate them, so why are you with them?"

"Maybe I've had a change of heart," said Isobel, "and maybe I've realised who the bad kind is."

"You are so naive," Pansy snarled sickly, "It's almost sweet."

"Am I?" Isobel questioned, "You just said it. You would put me in Semperess in seconds. They haven't."

"And you believe they won't, considering what you did to them?"

"No, I don't. We now have a common enemy bigger than each other."

"And who's that?"

"Draco," said Isobel, throwing down her Ace card as she knew this would get Pansy's back up, "he burned down their shop and took something from me."

Pansy stiffened, and she cricked her neck at the mention of Draco's name. Out of everyone in Slytherin, those two had lived the messiest path. There was a lot of history, but as Isobel also knew, a lot of pain. "Oh yes, I think something is coming back to me now," said Pansy flutteringly. "Sweet little lunatic Luna, she's missing, isn't she?"

"Do you know where she is?" Isobel asked, almost too quickly.

In that second, she knew her eagerness had caused her to let her guard down and hand the power back over to Pansy. However, she had played this game with her for years—it was all about finding the perfect balance of give and take. 

"I might," said Pansy, and she stood up and walked herself over to the mini bar against the wall.

"Where is she?" Isobel asked as her eyes followed her, sounding calmer this time, "Semperess?"

Pansy reached around the bar and picked up a square glass Decanter containing a clear liquid. There was silence as she opened it slowly and poured some into a shot glass. "I get what I want first," she said, "I want to know why you are here and why my boys found Tweedledum and Tweedledee with Mundungus Fletcher."

"We needed to talk to him," said Isobel. She had to give the truth to Pansy in droplets, she would see right through lies.

"How come?"

"He has something we need."

"What is it?"

"The same reason you wanted to trap him here tonight."

Pansy downed her shot and took a sharp breath as the strong liquid burned down her throat. "Ah, I see," she said, grinning as she swung her head to Isobel. "You think that map will lead you to Luna."

"It will," said Isobel, who hoped they were on the same page.

Pansy kissed her teeth and laughed to herself as she poured another shot. "I wouldn't be too sure of that."

"It's a map to Semperess," said Isobel, "that's the only place she could be."

"Listen, we used to be civil, so I'll give you a warning," said Pansy. "There are a lot scarier places for her to be than Semperess, and that map will not give you salvation. She's probably dead right now in a ditch, and it serves her right for being such a freak."

"Take that back," Isobel snapped.

"For what," Pansy scoffed, "for telling you the truth?"

"Take that back or I'll make you," Isobel threatened, her hands itching for her wand and clenching in fists. Pansy noticed and giggled, humoured by her anger.

"You're a little touchy for someone whose life is in my hands right now," said Pansy.

"Because I'm not scared of you," said Isobel, "so you tell me where she is, or I'll torture you."

"Fine, you want to play that game? Have it your way," said Pansy, all too happily for Isobel's liking. She got up, walked to the secret room, and opened the door, ordering the bodyguards to bring the Weasleys and Mundungus out. The men lifted them out of there and made them sit in a row alongside the wall on their knees. Charlie worriedly looked at her as she stood up, but he was calm compared to Mundungus, who was shivering next to him. However, Fred and George were cool as cucumbers—she thought George was even smiling.

Pansy confidently walked up and down, pulling her wand out of her bra and tapping the boy's heads with it. She was like a dominatrix waiting to play with her prey. "I'll be nice, I'll tell you where Luna is..." she said to Isobel, who was watching nervously from a foot away, "...if you select one of these to die."

Mundungus was the only one to flinch as she pointed her wand towards the line and Isobel was astounded at the lack of fear shown by all three Weasley boys. None of them batted an eye or looked towards Pansy at all, as they had faced much bigger dangers than her.  She felt proud of them and it gave her the confidence to not give into Pansy's demands.

"Go ahead," said Isobel with an air of carelessness, "do you think I care what happens to them? I'm only using them to get to Luna."

A loud rant of muffled noise came from Mundungus's covered mouth at this but the rest stood still. She even thought Fred gave her a wink but she couldn't be sure.

"Oh come on, there's got to be one of them you've dug your nails into," said Pansy as she walked behind their backs and twirling her wand in her fingers, "you did it with Theo. You did it with Draco. You can't help yourself."

"It's called being nice," said Isobel, getting slightly tense when Pansy reached Charlie, "they liked me more than you because I didn't suck up to them like you did, and I had the capability of having actual conversations."

This was true; Theo had told her so once during a summer study session in the courtyard.

"Oh yeah, you and your books and brains, smelling like old dusty leather all the time," Pansy sighed as if it bored her, "I'm sure that's what they were attracted to."

Her long burgundy fingernails slid over Mundungus's bald head, making him scream and duck. Fred and George rolled their eyes and shook their heads at his jumpyness.

"It was only Draco," Isobel replied. She had to manage Pansy's anger. "Theo and I were just friends."

"Oh yeah, that's what you thought," said Pansy, stopping to walk and placing her wand on Fred's back. "Why do you think Draco ever went for you? It certainly wasn't looks or to hear your ideas about pathetic liberal Government policies. No, he wanted you because Theo did and he wanted to have one over on him. Once Draco has something, we know that he doesn't share. Poor Theo had to watch silently from afar."

"You are a miserable manipulative bitch," said Isobel, taking a step forward, "none of that is true."

"Why would I lie?"

Theo and her were always just friends, but Pansy always had a problem with that. On one drunken night in the fifth year after a party, Isobel finally found out why, but Pansy had long forgotten that. She was trying to get in her head, trying to make Isobel say something that would give her an excuse to punish her, but it wouldn't work.

"This is between me and you, Pansy. You don't have to hurt them," said Isobel. "You can keep the map. We'll just leave and find Luna another way."

Pansy let out an excruciatingly high-pitched laugh. "Ha! Do you think a mudblood like you will have any other chance to find her? I'm giving you the opportunity of a lifetime here. Pick one."

"No," Isobel refused.

"This is the last time I'm offering," Pansy said venomously, "and even if you don't pick one, I'm still killing one of them. You might as well benefit from it."

Isobel refused to give in. When she and Pansy were friends, she stood back and let her hurt people, but she did nothing to stop it.  She was one of Umbridge's fiercest followers in the Inquisitorial Squad, and Isobel left to stop herself from becoming the same way. It was over her dead body that she would let Pansy hurt anyone because of her ever again. 

"You won't kill anyone, Pansy," Isobel told her. Her eyes softened as she saw the Pansy she had first befriended in front of her - the tough girl who only wanted the Slytherin boy's approval to give her worth. "This will not make Draco respect you any more," she continued, "he doesn't care about anyone, you know that. You're better than this Pansy, and think of Theo - if he knew how you felt about him, maybe-"

"Avada Kadavra!" Pansy shouted.

Isobel stood in horror as she watched Mundungus Fletcher fall to the floor dead after a flash of green hit the back of his head. His body lay crumpled on the floor like a statue, and she could see the life leave his eyes in a flicker of a second.

"I am not like you," Pansy spat, her wand hand shaking uncontrollably, "I couldn't just leave the fold when things got hard. This is my family, this is what I am. A lot has changed in the hierarchy since you left Monroe, and I've since earned Draco's respect after you stole it from me. I'm now his executioner. I kill anyone he wants dead."

Pansy walked over to Mundungus and bent down to start rummaging through his pockets, assumingly to look for the map he had stolen from her dad's office. Isobel was still frozen from seeing a murder happen in front of her, but Fred managed to catch her attention as he nodded at her vigorously.

"Your wand," he mouthed to her through the cloth between his mouth. He was nodding to Pansys wand on the floor that she had placed there to search Mundungus- it was just out of her reach.

"What do I do?" she mouthed back to him, "she fucking killed him!"

"Hurt her," George mouthed.

"Don't hurt her," Charlie intervened, and he shook his head.

"Just get that piece of parchment," Fred told her.

"Thank you," said Pansy to Mundungus, taking the parchment from his pocket and raising it in the air.

This was their only chance to get out of there, whilst her back was turned. Isobel quickly whipped out her wand from her boots and held it in front of her. She was not going to see anyone else die in front of her, not even Fred Weasley, who she - in fits of anger - had pictured dead multiple times. 

"Pertificus totalus!" she shouted at both the guards. Both guards froze and fell to the floor instantly like wooden planks, and Pansy looked up, shocked. She then pointed back at Pansy before she could reach for her own wand.

"You reach for it, I shoot," Isobel threatened her, "and I was lucky to have ex-friends who taught me the unforgivable curses."

Mad-eye Moody, well, Barry Crouch Jr may have theoretically taught them the unforgivable curses in fourth year, but the Slytherins were more than willing to teach Isobel how to do them practically to disrupt her innocence.

"You wouldn't dare," said Pansy. She had a slight hint of fear, but she didn't let it show.

"For Luna, I would," said Isobel firmly, "so give me the location of Semperess and then let them go."

With her guards down and Mundungus dead, Pansy no longer had any backup or leverage. It was just her and Isobel in a duel, and as history proved, Isobel always won. She won since their first time duelling in Professor Lockhearts class - and even then, with a snake running around petrifying muggleborns, Pansy didn't call her a mudblood. 

"I'm not giving you anything," said Pansy, and she stepped over Mundungus's lifeless leg and walked across Isobel to the sofa, waving the map in her hands in a taunting fashion, "You'll have to pride it out of my cold dead hands first. Snatchers are already on their way. I sent the signal when you froze my guards. If you kill me, they'll give all four of you one-way tickets to the dementors kiss."

Isobel hesitated and looked at the Weasleys. Their eyes all gave her the approval to push forward, and with their faith, Isobel gave herself permission to do something she had never done before—be reckless.

"Well then," she said, turning to face Pansy, who was now standing proudly in front of the window. "We'll just have to get out of here before they come, Depulso maxima!"

A shot of yellow flew out of Isobel's wand, and when it hit her, Pansy was knocked back as if her spine had been attached to a string line. She flung backwards towards the window, and as she flew so fast, the parchment escaped her grip and lifted itself in the air. Isobel caught it as Pansy smashed through the glass, and she watched the events unfold in slow motion. Pansy fell towards the ground at a hurtling rate and landed with a heavy smash onto the dance floor. A chorus of screams erupted when the crowd saw Pansy lying there lifeless, and everyone in the club started running out in panic.

"Call 999!" said one girl as the music stopped.

"Who is she with?" asked another.

"It looks like she was pushed from up there!" said a man, "it's a murder!"

With Pansy now gone, Fred ripped through his hand ties and used his free hands to break George out of his. Once George had a good grip on himself, Fred left him to help Charlie, and he rushed to Isobel who was as frozen as the bodyguards on the floor.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

Isobel didn't reply to him. All she did was stare down at the panic unfolding downstairs. Pansy wasn't moving, and it didn't look like she was breathing either. She had fallen from a great height, and wizards - though magical - were still human. No one could survive that. 

Isobel hadn't meant to push her out the window. She only meant to get her away or hit her against the wall. Her anger had taken over, making her far more powerful than she ever knew she could be...she didn't mean it...she would never hurt anyone...

"Did I...did I..." she stuttered.

"No, she'll be fine," said Fred. He went to place his hand on her shoulder but hesitated and put it back down by his side.

"How do you know?"

"I muttered a protection curse as she fell."

Isobel broke her stare and looked at him, water forming in her eyes due to shock. "You did?" she asked him. She would've thought that out of anyone, Fred would've wanted Pansy dead. "Why?"

"Because you're not a murderer," he told her, and he held her hand to pull her away from the window as Charlie and George stood up as free men, "now come on, we've got to leave. You don't want attempted murder on your record when getting caught by snatchers."

They formed a group and apparated back to Lee Jordan's flat, leaving Pansy Parkinson on the floor of the Tru Posion nightclub—alive and with her memory intact. 

Chapter Text

All this dancing and conversations with old friends made Isobel think of the first and only school dance she ever attended - the Yule Ball. It was a night of firsts, and some absolute lasts, and as she slept on Lee Jordan's sofa that night, she began to replay it all in her head...

"The Severing Charm was created in the fifteenth century by wizarding seamstress Delfina Crimp, who created it as an easy and convenient way of cutting cloth and thread," Isobel read out loud in the library as she quickly wrote notes down. "Okay, it doesn't say solid metal, but maybe we could use this?"

The black ink faded into the parchment as her quill raced across the page, itching to get this done so she could start on the four pieces of homework she had due the next day.

"I'm pretty sure Harry Potter used that on me a couple of weeks ago," said Cedric, idly leaning back on his chair beside her and fiddling with his wand. "It was before the first task when he told me about the dragons," he continued. "Mysteriously, about a minute before, my bag ripped open out of nowhere, and everything fell to the floor, making me late for class. I'm sure he did it so we could talk alone."

"He destroyed your property instead of just coming up and talking to you?" Isobel asked as she wrote. "Yep, that sounds like Harry Potter."

Cedric straightened up to have all four chair legs on the ground again and rested his head in his hands, his hair flopping over his awestruck eyes. "Come on, you don't have to help me with this," he told her and her placed his hands on hers to stop her from writing. She felt a bolt of electricity run up her arm. "I can see you're stressed so just focus on your homework and maybe you can go to dinner on time today. Get an early night."

Isobel laughed at this proposal. She hadn't had an early night since she returned to Hogwarts that year due to prioritising her studies and helping Cedric with the Triwizard Tournament. She wanted him to win, which was precisely why she had dragged him inside the library on that rainy autumn afternoon.

"One of us has to investigate this egg," Isobel told him sarcastically. "I know the task isn't until February, but you need to know the clue first to start getting prepared, and we have no idea how to open this thing!"

She pointed to the enormous golden egg on the table between them. Cedric carried it everywhere; he didn't want it out of sight. Isobel guessed he even slept with it.

"I'll figure it out, relax. I'm top of the leaderboard, remember?" said Cedric cockily with a grin. "Actually, I'm going to take away the temptation."

He stood up and lifted the egg under his arm. He liked it to be visible so everyone would comment as he strode through the Hogwarts halls. "See you, Iz," he smiled. He grabbed his bag and left her, exiting the library swiftly.

Cedric had been like this ever since the Triwizard Tournament had started. He desperately wanted to get in to prove himself as a great wizard, but then he acted carelessly towards the actual tasks. He had gotten lucky on the Dragons; he hadn't got the most brutal one, and he had the advantage of being a good flyer due to Quidditch, but she had no clue how he would pass the next one. He had left all the worrying to Isobel, who happily took it on.

She huffed and placed her notes in her bag, pulling the pile of books she had taken out closer to her. Her transfiguration book was at the top, so she started with that first. It was on cross-species switching, and the question Professor McGonagall had asked them to answer was, "Describe, with examples, how Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches."

Isobel opened her book and started researching when she heard a loud and agitating noise from the corridor beside her. Due to the glassless windows, she could hear everything.

"So? Do you know who belongs to that smell?" George Weasley's voice echoed.

"I don't know. I told you what I could smell, but it didn't ring any bells," Fred answered. "It was the most bloody random combination, but I couldn't get enough."

Isobel hid her head as they walked past her in their school robes. The last thing she needed was to see them.

"But it wasn't Angelina?"

"Definitely not."

"Oh, you are so in trouble," laughed Lee Jordan, "who knew a potions class could mess this much with your head."

"I mean, can you trust Amortentia anyway?" Fred said as if he was trying to convince himself of the fact. "Like, come on, a potion that could tell the user what they're most attracted to? Bunch of rubbish it seems to me, and I think Snape agreed, you saw his face when he smelt it. How would it know?"

The fourth years hadn't yet reached that potion level, but Isobel saw Fred's reasoning as redundant. Snape would never teach a potions class unless he knew it worked. He wasn't the kind for frivolous lesson plans.

"Well, I don't know, but you've got to figure it out before the ball," said George, "because you've already asked Angelina and if you accidentally bump into the girl that smells like that..."

"...I'm a dead man," Fred finished off gravely.

"Yep."

"You're so lucky; you're going with Katie Bell as friends," Fred complained. "You don't have to be involved in all this if you smell someone who fits your potion."

"Yep, I'm in the clear," said George proudly, "but to be fair Fred you could be in a worse position, you could be Lee."

"Hey, I'm waiting for the right person to ask," said Lee Jordan defensively, "I won't go with just anyone."

Yes, you would, Isobel thought.

"You can't be picky; all the good ones will be good soon," Fred told him. "Look at Ron and Harry. The only girls who would go with them are Hermione and Ginny, and even those already have dates. I'll be surprised if they don't turn up with Hagrid!"

Isobel chuckled at this notion, which unfortunately caught the eye of Lee Jordan, who was keen on noticing everything. She quickly dipped lower to place her head on the desk to avoid his stare.

"Okay, okay, I'll find someone," Lee said slowly as he thought, and Isobel could tell he had just gotten a terrible idea. "I've just got to nip into the library for a second. Can I meet you later?"

Fred and George said goodbye and turned the corner whilst Lee Jordan hurried into the library. He didn't diddle dally. He just aimed straight for Isobel.

"Where is she...where is she...," he muttered. He walked in enormous strides until he got to her desk at the back and stopped when he saw her, quickly changing to act cool and leaning against the bookcase. It was funny because running had flicked his hair all over his face.

"Hey, Monroe."

"No," Isobel said to him as she continued reading her book.

"What?" Lee Jordan grinned charmingly, "but you haven't even heard what I have to say yet."

Isobel looked up and dipped her quill in ink. "I heard you talking outside; you're all obnoxiously loud," she said. "You're looking for a date for the Yule ball, and I'm telling you no."

"Why not!" Lee argued as his charm broke and his body sulked, "We like each other, don't we?"

Isobel raised her eyebrows at him and started to write down answers from the passage she was reading. "We've barely said more than two words to each other since my accident," she told him, "and that was "Oh sorry, is that book yours?"

"Ah, see, we share the same love of books!" Lee said joyfully, but his words were not convincing.

"My answer is no," said Isobel. "I'm sure there are plenty of other girls you know who would be more than willing to go with you."

Lee looked around to check that the coast was clear and stepped forward, leaning on her desk. "No, there isn't," he whispered, "I'm the third wheel to Fred and George, and I've been the messenger for half the girls in the school for them. None of them ask me."

Isobel felt a bit sorry for him, but the most heartbreaking part was that Fred and George were the most sought after dates by half of the girls in the school. There really was limited choice here.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not planning on going," said Isobel, "I was going to go home, my mum-"

"So no one asked you either," Lee cut her off.

Isobel didn't respond to that. She saw no point in lying but didn't want to admit it.

"Were you expecting Cedric to ask you?" he questioned.

"He asked Cho Chang, his girlfriend," Isobel answered.

"That's not what I asked," said Lee.

It felt like he could read her mind, but she didn't like it.

"Whatever," she said, looking down at her book to pretend to read so that she didn't have to look at Lee anymore. "I don't want to go anyway. It's a stupid dance where couples who will probably break up the next day will have one deluded night of romance in the name of school spirit."

Lee agreed with her there. They had always agreed in their sparse conversations at pre and post-Quidditch matches. "Listen," he huffed, his tone now lowering to authentic honesty, "I think we could devise a compromise here. This doesn't need to be romantic. We can be friends. Lots of people are doing that. I need a girl who won't bore my ears off, and I know you share the same passion for Quidditch as I do. I can't be the third wheel again, please. We can even make fun of all the loved-up couples who will break up the next day if that will make you want to come."

Lee had never done her wrong. It was only his friends that had. Also, she would be alone in the castle at Christmas anyway, as Luna was on Holiday with Xeno, and her parents were probably better off without her. So she considered it.

"Would we have to sit with Fred and George?" she asked.

"Yes," Lee answered plainly, "they're my best friends."

"Then no."

"Why don't you like them?" Lee sighed.

Isobel couldn't believe the number of people whose memories had just evaporated. She still had a limp when she walked sometimes, the evidence was still there. "I don't like the way they make a joke of everything and get away with it," she replied.

"Fine," said Lee, "if it means that much to you, you don't have to speak to them. You can sit on the other side of me."

"And would we have to dance?" Isobel asked.

"A minimum of one, that's all I ask. You might enjoy it. I'm a good Dancer."

"So I've been told."

"So, is that a yes?" Lee begged. She had never seen him so desperate. "Come on Monroe, have some fun. People think you've become a right shrew this term, and I know you're not. Prove them wrong."

A shrew. She wondered where he had heard that from - she didn't think Fred or George had the vocabulary to use a word like that. 

Isobel thought about it further. Either way, she was doing nothing, and it would've been nice to see Cedric celebrated as a Triwizard champion. Though not the company she would personally pick, it was better than being alone at Christmas.

That was a level of isolation that was even too sad for her. 

"It's a yes," said Isobel.

Lee grinned and reached forward to cup her chin in his hands, which surprised her.

"You're not going to regret it," he told her.

Isobel lightly pulled his hand off her face and gave him one warning, now alerted by his likeliness for touching.

"On one condition, you don't ditch me," she told him, "I'm doing this for you, and I will not look like an idiot."

"I promise," said Lee. He gave her the details, including where and when they would meet. He even asked her to tell him what colour she would be wearing so that they could match.

"Thank you," he said before leaving, and she felt like he meant it.

***

"No! That's it, I'm not going," said Isobel as she undid her attempt at a bun for the fourth time. It was getting late; the Yule Ball was about to start, and she sat in her dressing gown as light snow began to fall outside the Ravenclaw tower.

It had been a disaster. She couldn't decide on a thing. When she put her hair down, she thought it didn't lay right, and then she tried putting it up, everything just accentuated her forehead and made her look like a boy. Nothing made her feel pretty, and then she was annoyed at herself for even caring what she looked like. All the extra classes she had taken had also increased her homework load, and with help from Cedric not caring about the Dragon's egg, she hadn't even had time to shop for a new dress. She was left with what she had: an old wool dress designed for winter days by the fire, not for a party. Isobel had emptied her trunk earlier that day looking for an old red summer dress she had in there - but it was missing.

All signs pointed to her giving up and not going.

"Knock, knock," said a voice at the now-empty fourth-year girls' dormitory. It was male, so Isobel jumped.

"Don't come in!" Isobel shouted, getting up and looking for her wand. "This is the girls' room!"

"Yes, I know that Izzy and I've come to see you, so can you please let me in? "

She recognised the voice, so she walked over to the dormitory door and opened it to reveal Cedric standing in beautiful satin black and cream robes, his hair perfectly combed back in a quiff. He looked handsome, and Isobel stuttered her words as she admired him.

"Cedric? How did you get in?"

"Cho, let me in," he said. "She's still not ready, and by the looks of it, neither are you. Come on, it starts soon."

"I'm not going," Isobel replied, returning to sit on her bed. The blue sheets were inviting her never to leave, and the wooden posters on the bed meant she couldn't see Cedric's disappointed face.

"You have to!" said Cedric from the doorway. Boys were only allowed in the female Ravenclaw's room if invited; otherwise, they were blown backwards by the Hogwarts forces. "What about Lee? And you promised me a dance!"

"Both of you won't miss me," said Isobel, "especially if the alternative is that I turn up looking like crap."

"You could never look like crap," said Cedric, "what dress are you wearing?"

"I haven't got one," Isobel replied.

"Ah, that explains this then," said Cedric, and she heard the sound of paper ruffling. "I had the sudden brilliant idea to check your post today. You've been neglecting it recently."

Isobel leaned to the side to see past the bedposts as Cedric pulled out a large brown package from behind his back. It was wrapped in silkworm string, which meant it could only have been sent from one person—Luna. Cedric took out the note attached to it and began to read.

"To Iz,

Sorry, but I took this before I left, and I know you needed a dress. I hope you didn't miss it. You were never going to get one yourself with everything going on, and you deserve to have one night off. I hope you like the sparkles; they're my favourite - but don't tell my dad how many fireflies of his I had to use for the glitter! He told me I couldn't do that, but this was an emergency. I even added something to keep the nargles away. We don't want them ruining your night.

Merry Christmas, friend, and please write back with some of the Hogwarts Christmas pudding. It's my favourite.

Luna x"

"Always has great timing, that girl," said Cedric once he finished, "I think you better take a look Miss 'I'm not going'."

Isobel stood off the bed and walked up to Cedric, immediately taking the package from him. He smiled as she took it to the table and invited him in, and together, they unwrapped the heavily wrapped package Luna had sent. Isobel's eyes opened with joy. It was her red summer dress, but Luna had transformed it into a dazzling ballgown with layers of netting attached to the hem to make it full-length. It glistened in the candlelight as intricate sparkles were woven into the fabric up from a newly added corset to the sweetheart neckline, and Luna had even gone to the trouble of replacing the spaghetti straps with thick chiffon ribbon to make them feel more expensive. Under the dress was a pair of matching silk gloves to keep her hands warm. Isobel always had cold hands and was touched by what Luna remembered. She was touched that Luna had even done this.

"It's beautiful," Isobel whispered.

"It's you," said Cedric, staring down at Isobel's face. "Now come on, you don't want Luna's hard work to go to waste. You have a ball to go to, Cinderella."

He turned to leave to give her privacy and gave her one last look as he stood at the door. Isobel stared at him curiously, wondering where that last comment had come from.

"Hey, I listen to you when you talk about your muggle stories," he grinned. "Oh, and by the way, leave your hair down; it softens you."

He tapped the wall and left the doorway, presumably to find Cho. He also told her to hurry up and left Isobel alone to hear the sounds of jingle bells coming from the grounds below. Guests had started to arrive at the Great Hall, and it was decision time. Isobel looked back down at the dress Luna had made. It was too stunning for her not to wear it; it was calling her name, and when she put it on, it fit like a glove. There was nothing loose, nothing tight, everything fit...just right. Luna had saved the day, and she didn't know how to thank her except to send her the most giant Christmas pudding she could find at the feast tomorrow.

As she looked in the mirror, her dark curls hanging around the red satin, she finally felt pretty.

***

Hogwarts was the best place to be at Christmas, and tonight was no exception. Hagrid had placed a Christmas tree at every corner, and every inch of the castle had been covered in candles, lights, and mistletoe. Before she turned the corner to the meeting place, Isobel took a moment to compose herself as the surrounding snow made her shiver. She suddenly felt giddy at the prospect of this being a crossroads: whether to go with Lee tonight or run back to the Ravenclaw tower. There was no going back now.

"You deserve a night off," she heard Luna say. She missed out on socialising this term and this was a chance to get back in the game. One last night to see if she could make it at Hogwarts...even if it did have to be alongside the Weasley twins.

She breathed, tried to appear relaxed, and stepped out into the moonlight. Her tiny black heels, hidden under her dress, clunked against the cold stone floor as she walked as quietly as possible up to Lee, who was sitting on a bench outside the hospital wing. They agreed to meet there, as it was halfway between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Tower.

"Isobel," said Lee as he noticed her coming towards him. He smiled broadly as he took her in and was happy with the image. Though she hadn't been able to tell him what she was wearing so they could match, their mind-syncing abilities had worked their magic, and he was wearing velvet robes of dark ruby with gold buttons. 

"You look amazing," he said.

He put her right at ease. 

"So do you," Isobel smiled. "So, should we get this thing started then?"

"Yeah, we just have to wait for the others," said Lee.

"Others?"

"Yeah, they're just inside the Hospital Wing-"

A glass shattered on the floor, alerting them to whoever was inside. Brown liquid trickled out of the door to Lee and Isobel's feet, and Isobel had to step out of the way so it wouldn't get on her dress.

"Oh well done Katie, you've done it now," someone whispered.

"Oh shut up Fred, it's not our fault you're using us as drug mules."

To Isobel's disappointment, she met the Weasley twins earlier than planned. They emerged from the door of the Hospital Wing in Black robes and gold waistcoats whilst Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell trotted forward behind them. Isobel thought both girls looked beautiful.

"You got it, then?" Lee asked them. They were all facing him, completely ignoring Isobel except Angelina Johnson, who gave her a polite nod.

"Yep, twenty miles of Madame Pomfrey's calming elixir," said Fred proudly as he stood in front of Isobel. "All we need to do is put in, and we have every student's cure to stress. They'll be chill and carefree—in a daze as you will."

All of them laughed.

"But that's spiking," said Isobel from behind.

The laughter stopped, and all eyes slowly started to rest on her as Lee held his breath.

"If it isn't the delightful tones of Busy-Izzy Monroe," said Fred as he turned and faced her. "So you're the girl Lee refused to tell us about."

"Surprised to see me?" she asked in a friendly manner. She had promised Lee she would be nice.

"In a dress?" George replied, "very shocked."

"George!" Angelina grunted, and she hit his arm.

Fred's nose crinkled in her direction, and Isobel felt insecure that she might have smelled bad, though she didn't think she did. Maybe some sage had gotten onto her dress from Luna's house - they were always burning it to keep away evil spirits.

"I just don't think you should put that in people's drinks," she said innocently, ignoring George's comment, "people could get sick."

Maybe it was her naivety of being younger, but she honestly thought she was helping them. As much as she didn't like Fred and George, it would be an awful experience at the Yule Ball if they got caught putting things in the collective drink bottles.

"Well, Monroe," said George, "it's not going in people's drinks. We're using it to-"

Fred slapped George on the stomach to interrupt him from speaking. "We're using it on something else," he said instead, "and if we were to be spiking people's drinks, then yours would be the first one we'd do. Chill out alright."

Both pairs started walking down the corridor toward the Great Hall, and Lee and Isobel were left standing there. Lee Jordan looked amused, which confused her; she would've thought he would've been mad.

"Did I do something?" she questioned as Lee started chuckling to himself.

"No, it's not that," he giggled, "but come on, you promised no comments."

"That wasn't even a comment," Isobel said to her defence, "I was concerned. I don't want someone to get ill because they overdose on that."

Lee stuck out his arm to take as the others had done, and he gave the impression that he realised this might be a tougher night than he thought—which made Isobel feel a bit guilty.

"Okay, we'll just play nice, okay? I think Fred has a lot on his mind right now."

Isobel was mute as she took Lee's arm and walked to the Great Hall. She let him talk as people greeted him cheerily in the hallways and ignored the looks she was getting from other female students. She wasn't used to having people look at her, so she didn't know if they liked her dress or if they were questioning why she was with Lee.

They got to the Great Hall and emerged into a Winter Wonderland. The usual stone walls had been bewitched to look like blocks of ice, and snowflakes fell from the sky and landed on the floor with a sparkle. Ice sculptures were scattered everywhere, and a grand orchestra sat where the teacher's table usually was. For the first time tonight, Isobel was glad she came.

"I love your dress," a female voice whispered beside her as they joined the growing crowd. Isobel turned over her shoulder to see Fleur Delacour, in an elegantly flattering silver dress, smiling back at her. Isobel was too starstruck to speak, and before she could say thank you, Fleur winked at her and walked back outside the entrance. She felt stupid for not being able to get her words out - Fleur had become a huge inspiration for her this term as the only girl in the tournament. 

"A seal of approval from a Triwizard Champion," said Lee approvingly, who had overheard, "I told you we'd rule this ball."

Isobel smiled as they walked to the dance floor and waited for the champions to enter. A compliment from Fleur Delacour had confirmed it: absolutely nothing could ruin this night.

***

It was time for dinner after the initial dance to open the Ball. The seating was unorganised apart from the champions, their dates, and the teachers who had their tables, so Isobel didn't have a seating plan or an escape route from sitting with the Weasleys. Circular tables were scattered around the dancefloor, and silver tablecloths draped over them resembled icicles. Each of them sat up to twenty students at a time. Isobel sat on a silver, twisted back chair next to Lee Jordan and breathed a sigh of relief when Dean Thomas sat down on the other side of her. A fellow muggle-born, Dean and her never really spoke, but after the second year, they had a silent level of respect for each other. Fred sat next to Lee, then sat Angelina, George and Katie. Course after course of delicious food passed their glass plates, and Isobel ate most of it quietly whilst admiring the crystal centrepiece in the middle of the table that was shaped like a Hogwarts turret. Lee struck up a conversation with her now and then, keeping his promise about not leaving her out, but she was also happy to be in her world and observe the people around her - taking it all in. It wasn't until the pudding was finished and a conversation between them all started that Isobel had to break her bubble of solitude and get involved.

"We're making a killing off the tournament," Fred bragged to the table. "If business continues this well, we'll be set for next year."

"Or you can take me on an actual date for once," said Angelina. She said it like she was joking, but Isobel and Katie knew she wasn't.

"Honestly, though, it's a great model," said George, "everyone wants to make money, don't they? We're allowing them to do that, but realistically, we'll only have to pay out 1/4 of the bets we take so that we can keep the rest. It's genius."

"If it's so genius, why keep it hidden from the teachers?" Isobel asked them. She had seen them holding court and trying to get bets from anyone they could for the next and first task. They always did it in secret, where no adults could find them.

"Because they'd take our money," said George, "teachers like Snape don't appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit, do they?"

"So it's not because it's wrong?" Isobel asked him.

"Betting is legal here, Monroe," Fred told her condescendingly as he popped a grape into his mouth. "The government says it's okay. You can read about it in the law books, which I assume you've read a thousand times."

"Ah yes, the government," said Isobel, smiling through her disdain, "known for making morally correct decisions."

She hadn't forgotten how Professor Lupin was pushed out of his teaching position last year because of people's backwards views on werewolves - views penetrated by Ministry propaganda.

"Are you saying citizens in need shouldn't be allowed to make money?" Fred asked her. The other half of the table went silent, and Isobel sensed Lee getting tense. They were all sixth years, and from the girls' expressions looking back at her, they all thought they knew better than her.

"They shouldn't if it means betting on the triumphs or demise of my friend," Isobel replied, being honest and giving the true reason why she was annoyed about this.

"Hey, we're including our friend," said George, "Harry's a popular bet at the moment."

"Harry Potter has more lives than a cat," Isobel scoffed, "including him doesn't make it right. What if one of them got badly injured, or died, how would you feel making money off it then?"

She genuinely wanted a discussion here. You hadn't seen anyone else wishing to profit off of what could be a hazardous tournament.

"Monroe no one will ever die at this school, it's the safest place there is," said Fred.

She had to laugh. Clearly, he had never accidentally gone into the girl's bathroom and had to spend an uncomfortable toilet break listening to the rants of Moaning Myrtle. 

"Spoken like somebody who's never had to feel any fear," she smiled.

"And you speak like someone who's never had to worry about money," said Fred. "Let me guess: Daddy had that dress custom-made for you, did he?"

Isobel bit her tongue. Her initial reply would be too wicked for dinner conversation. He knew nothing about her family or anything about her, so it was unfair to make that assumption so boldly. But that was Fred Weasley; he was careless.

She lifted her goblet to her mouth and smiled before taking a sip. "Interesting words coming from a wizard who lets himself get new robes before their younger brother," she said. "How come you two are never the ones to go without?"

It was now Fred's turn to be stumped, but at least what she said was true. Broken wands without repair, an old rat for a pet, horrible old dress robes - she didn't particularly like him but Ron always seemed to have the brunt of it. The twins, because there were two, always had brand new everything. They were far from hard done by.

"You don't know anything about our family," Fred muttered, his face narrowing as she continued to challenge him.

"And you know nothing about mine," she said, "it's dangerous to be so irresponsible with your words."

Fred leaned forward with his elbow on the table, cutting a little across Lee Jordan. "I happen to love danger," he told her.

Unafraid of him, she also leaned towards Lee. "And that will be your downfall one day," she told him.

"Okay, dance time!" Lee shouted merrily to interrupt the conversation before it got more heated. He grabbed Isobel's hand and pulled her into the crowd before she could utter another word.

They weaved their way through the cheering teenagers, and just like that, they were amongst the ballgowns and the chandeliers. Isobel quickly shook off the conversation and fell completely into the music that blasted from the speakers, happy that she was now only with Lee, whom she liked. It felt intimate even though people surrounded her, making her comfortable enough to let go. She thought of Luna as Lee whirled her around in her dress, and they happily sang into the sweat-stained air as the Weird Sisters played the Hogwarts Hall. Up, down, up, down. They defied the laws of gravity as they headbanged to the music (Lee's idea, of course), and they laughed when he got a bit too excited with his hip action and stood on Isobel’s toes. She couldn't remember the last time she had this much fun and didn't want it to stop. Lee was her partner in crime for those few songs, and they moved to the same beat under the glowing silver lights. She forgot about her injury for the first time since it happened and just had fun. 

It was what her best friend had wanted.

"I stand corrected," Isobel breathed when another song finished, "you're a good dancer."

"Not too bad yourself," Lee said back.

"Uh, Lee, can we borrow you for a minute?" George asked as he approached them. "Monroe could sit with the girls for a bit."

"No, we're dancing," said Isobel confidently to him. "Right, Lee?"

They were having a good time, and they had no reason to need him for whatever they were doing.

"Lee, come on, it'll be quick," said George.

Lee hesitated, and her eyes focused on him. She hoped that he understood the message she was sending—he had promised not to abandon her.

"It'll be quick," Lee said to her, "I promise, okay, I'll come back. If anyone asks where we are, just say we're in the bathroom."

Isobel was left open-mouthed and dumbfounded as George quickly pulled Lee away with ease, both of them disappearing among the crowd of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students. Lee had abandoned her. She was now at this thing alone.

She looked for Cedric, but there was no sign of him or even Cho. They had gone somewhere a little more private. With him gone, she had ran out of friends, so instead of dancing, she sat back down at the table where they had dinner. Angelina and Katie Bell were still there, gossiping away with Alicia Spinnet, who had joined the conversation, but none looked Isobel's way or asked her to join. She didn't blame them. They were older and seemingly had nothing in common, so she just sat and waited for Lee to return.

Ten minutes went by, then half an hour, then a whole hour. She sat at the table as her fellow students danced around her and had fun, quiet and alone, without anyone else she felt comfortable contacting. She got so desperate at one point to look over at the other table and smile at Padma and Parvati Patil, who had the unfortunate circumstances of being Harry Potter and Ron Weasleys dates. They appeared to share her misery, but at least they had each other to rely on - and their dates were still at their side despite not wanting to dance with them.

Isobel watched Ginny Weasley dance with Neville, who she thought was rather sweet and innocent together, and then her eyes were drawn to the stunning Fleur Delacour, who was shimmering in her sleek silver dress as she danced with Isobel's ex-teammate Roger Davies. However he got Fleur to go with him, she never understood. Even Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, the most stale-faced students at Hogwarts, were having a good time over by their table as they were laughing at everyone's outfits that they deemed disgusting. It entertained Isobel to watch as she felt involved whilst being entirely on the outside, but it was only when Cedric Diffory and Cho Chang re-entered the dance floor that she couldn't stomach it anymore. With her date gone, she couldn't look at who she wanted to go with be happy with someone else. Cedric couldn't see her being so pathetically alone.

She looked up at the clock. Two hours had gone by since she had last seen Lee. That was enough. She was going to find him. This was ridiculous.

Exciting the Great Hall, Isobel happened to stumble across Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger arguing by the stairs. Admittedly, it did cheer her up to see someone else's night falling apart at the seams, but she ignored it and continued to search for Lee. Whether Hermione or Ron were stupid enough not to see their own feelings had nothing to do with her.

She searched the courtyard, looked outside the main entrance, and even searched the little patch of ground near the whomping willow as she had seen them there a few times. No Lee Jordan. So she went back inside and started searching every corridor, classroom and bathroom where she heard noise. Then, after a polite but brief conversation with Professor Dumbledore after he exited a strange room she had never seen before, she heard riles of laughter coming from a broom cupboard in the west wing.

Though she couldn't be sure it was them, something told her to search anyway.

She walked forward and peeked through the little crack in the door. Surprisingly, she saw Fred and George holding a man against the wall while Lee Jordan stirred a large bubbling cauldron full of brown liquid. The man was short, a bit fat, and had golden locks of hair that stuck out from George's shoulder. It was Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He had been there tonight as he was overlooking the Triwizard Tournament.

"Where is the money?" Fred asked him.

"I don't have it, alright!" Ludo argued as he squirmed in their hands.

"You owe us, Bagman," said George, "you can't keep leaving us in the dark!"

"I'll get it to you soon, I promise."

"You will; otherwise, we'll have to find other ways for you to pay us back," Fred threatened.

Isobel couldn't take it anymore. She barged open the door to reveal herself to them.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked in shock, "He's a Ministry official!"

Both Fred and George collectively groaned as they saw her at the door.

"Stay out of this Monroe, go back to the ball," said Fred.

He dismissed her like a little kid.

"What, and just sit there for two more hours?" Isobel asked. "Mrs Norris has danced more than me...and she's a cat!"

Lee sighed. He stopped stirring the cauldron and spoke to her calmly. "Iz, you don't need to be involved in this. Just leave while you can."

"No, I won't," Isobel shouted, "you're threatening him!"

"We're questioning him," George corrected.

"Actually, it does feel quite threatening," Ludo Bagman added breathlessly.

"Monroe, don't get involved in things that have nothing to do with you," Fred shouted at her sternly. "You're so stubborn, just walk away!"

Isobel reached for her wand to cast a spell to separate them, but Fred was quicker, casting 'Expelliarmus' in her direction. It wasn't meant to hurt, just to shut her up. However, it missed her, as he was distracted by holding Ludo, and it hit the cauldron instead. It was sent flying towards the door, and the brown liquid inside splashed all over Isobel and covered her. Whatever it was, it stung, but it felt worse because she could feel it all soaking into her dress.

Everyone fell silent. Fred and George even loosened their grip on Ludo as they saw the result of their actions. Lee Jordan dropped the stirring spoon onto the floor.

She was frozen, embarrassed, and stinking of sewage. Every thought and feeling toward the Weasleys that she had tried to squish just rose up in her after she no longer had the strength to suppress them.

"Oh..." said Lee Jordan, noticing her face strain in frustration, "Iz...don't..."

Isobel instantly walked away from them, heading directly back to the Ravenclaw common room, the quickest route she could take. She wanted to be alone. She didn't want to be around anyone. She should've stayed there and never come out.

"Isobel!" Lee shouted after her as he came out of the room and followed where she was going, "Izzy, just wait!"

"No!" Shouted Isobel, who turned around viscously, "You promised me you wouldn't abandon me, you promised me and look! I was left for hours sitting around, waiting to have a good time with you, and now my dress that my best friend made for me is covered in this crap, which they obviously won't apologise for because they never apologise for anything!"

"Just please be quiet," Lee begged her as he caught up, "if a teacher hears you, we'll get busted."

She couldn't believe that was the first thing to come out of his mouth instead of an apology. "I don't care if you get caught!" Isobel shouted back, "you all deserve to face the consequences for once. You seriously abandoned me so they could threaten a Ministry Official?"

"No, I didn't realise that was happening," said Lee, and his face was not curved in any way to tell her that he was lying, "we knew this would be the only night Snape would be out of his office, and we needed to steal some stock from his storeroom to make this new potion for their business. That's all. But then Fred saw Ludo walking around and-"

"Decided to extort him for money," Isobel interrupted, her lips pursing as she accentuated the word. She let out a little laugh at herself for ever being so stupid to believe that anything involving them could ever turn out right. "Stealing? Extorting?! This night is over. I'm done talking with people who refuse to play fair with anything they do, even making money," she told him. "Never speak to me again."

"Iz you didn't let me finish-"

It didn't matter what he had to say. She was already gone and running away through the darkened halls of Hogwarts. A single tear slipped down her face as she entered the comfort of isolation, and when she had travelled far enough to be completely alone, she fell against a wall near the girls' bathroom, crying into her dress.

Cedric's Cinderella prophecy had come true. Except she hadn't danced with a handsome prince before returning to her shrewd, forgotten usual self at Midnight. She hadn't even kissed a frog - tonight had been no fairytale.

Her night had been stolen, and it was the Weasley twin's fault.

"What's this? A little lost puppy?" asked a voice filled with venom. "God, Monroe, you smell like Mrs Sprout."

Isobel looked up. Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott had walked down the corridor, both in their party wear, looking miraculously miserable. She wiped away her tears with her hand and huffed, trying to stop herself from crying any more.

"Go away," said Isobel, "please."

"Oh well, as you said, please..." said Draco as he approached her feet, dressed head to toe in the finest black silk. "What's up? Finally been kicked out of the library because old Pincey wanted a night off?"

He kicked her feet, which caused Isobel to lift herself off the floor to escape him begrudgingly.

"Just leave me alone," she said as she shook the dust off her dress.

"Why are you upset?" asked Theo, who wasn't too comfortable with what Draco had just done. "I've never seen you sad."

"If you must know...," she sniffed, "...bad date."

"Well, that's your fault for going anywhere near those Gryffindors," Theo replied. It had the usual tone of disgust the Slyhterins had when talking about that specific house.

Isobel looked up at them, the remnants of tears still botching her eyesight from being completely clear. "How did you know?" she asked them.

"We see everything," said Theo, and then he looked down at her and sighed, "including glorious dresses that should not be wasted by being worn on the floor and covered in tears."

He seemed sadder about the waste of shiny material than her feelings.

"You're better than that, you have a brain," said Draco.

It felt like the fumes she had inhaled from Fred and George's potion had now started to affect her and make her see things. Theo, the known womanizer of Slytherin House, had complimented her without commenting on her physique, and Draco Malfoy had said something nice. He never spoke to her, and when he did to others, it was hardly ever positive.

"Thanks, I guess," said Isobel, unable to understand what was happening. "I think I'm just going to go to bed."

She took a slow step back. She didn't know what was happening but knew being alone in the corridor with them was dangerous.

"We could help you, you know, to get revenge," said Draco. He stood there and put his hands in his pockets. It was a sign that he was about to cause trouble.

"Why would I want revenge?" she asked.

"Like he said, we see everything," said Theo, "and it's no secret that you hate them for killing your Quidditch career."

"Amongst other things," Isobel stated, "but I know you guys, you hate them too. You don't want to help me. You'd just be using me."

Draco smirked. She had seen right through his pretence. "Fine, I'll get to the point," he said, "we have a common enemy. Join us, and we can help you get them back together."

"Why would I ever want to join you?" she asked, "I'm a muggle-born. Two years ago, you were praying that all of us got killed by that snake."

"That's fair," Draco replied, accepting it like it hadn't been a horrible thing for him to say, "but besides blood status, I think we share many of the same values: intelligence, discipline, and logic. The only difference between Slytherins and Ravenclaws is that we have the cunning to use our knowledge to get what we want instead of keeping it to ourselves. Blood status means nothing if you're against them. If you're against them, you're with us."

"And besides your little friendship with Lovegood..." said Theo, looking at her in a way she had never noticed before, "I think we're more alike than you think."

The offer they were making her didn't make sense given their beliefs, but they made a very convincing argument. Had it been because they had caught her at a vulnerable moment? Maybe. But she knew that. It didn't, however, stop her from listening.

"Those Weasleys have had it coming for far too long," Draco told her, "they and their friends are making a mockery of this school and everything in it, Potter and Granger being the worst of them, and I know you agree. I've seen you when they're around. You're the same as us. Together, we can do something about it. Stains like that don't just happen Monroe, I know they had something to do with it - they will never face consequences if you don't start doing something about it."

At that moment, Professor McGonagall entered the corridor, her ivy-green robes gracefully sliding against the floor. Isobel felt the need to seize up a bit, given that they were just talking about her favourite students, but Theo and Draco remained cool - if anything, they seemed happier about her presence.

"And why are you three not at the party?" McGonagall asked as she approached them. She saw Isobel there with a wet face. "Are you okay, Miss Monroe?"

She was suspicious that Theo and Draco were the ones who had caused her to cry, completely unaware that they were helping the scenario and that her house students had caused it. Isobel looked at Draco and Theo. They both nodded at her to tell.

There was one thing Isobel was missing at Hogwarts, and it was people who thought the same as she did. She felt too angry and too upset, so she finally wanted something to happen to the untouchables for a change.

"No," Isobel said, her tears finally drying up. "I've just seen something awful, professor, and I think you need to know about it."

Chapter Text

"What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"Oh, I don't know, saving your girlfriend from going to Azkaban maybe?"

"You left witnesses! Pansy Parkinson is going to open her big mouth, and they're all going to be after us, especially Isobel!"

"So you would rather have had her kill Parkinson and become a murderer then?"

"I want her to be safe!"

"Then thank me because I was the one who saved her from a lifetime in prison!"

Isobel sat on the sofa of Lee Jordan's flat, wrapped in a blanket and the dress she wore last night. It was the morning after the club disaster, and after staying up for most of the night until the shock left her drained, she was woken up by Charlie and Fred, who were fighting in Lee's spare room. Unfortunately, George had been stuck in there and could not escape being called upon occasionally as an unbiased third party. 

"How long have they been going like that for?" Lee asked as he came sleepily out of his bedroom. He was used to Fred and George being loud at night, so he had been able to sleep through their yells.

"Touching on an hour now," Isobel replied.

Lee rubbed his eyes as he sat down next to her. The sunlight hit the backs of their heads, casting a slight shadow on the floor.

"What exactly happened?" He asked.

"I almost killed Pansy Parkinson," Isobel replied dully. She had said the sentence repeatedly in her head, and now she didn't feel anything when saying it out loud. 

"Excuse me...what?!" Lee asked, in a volume almost too loud if they didn't want to alert anyone to themselves. "How did that come about? I swear you two were best friends."

Isobel shushed him and ushered him to move closer to her.

"The key word there is 'were,'" she told him, "she hates me now. I'm just another mudblood to her. Besides, it was her or them."

"So you nearly killed Pansy Parkinson to save Fred and George?" Lee asked. He didn't think he had heard it right.

"I know," said Isobel, her glazed stare unbroken, "surprised me too."

They sat there in the morning quiet whilst Lee took in the news. Isobel didn't know if he was more shocked at her saving Fred and George or if he couldn't believe she had dared go against Pansy.

"Well, what should we have done then?" Fred shouted, "Because to be honest, it seems pretty one-sided on who creates the plans!"

"Because you don't let me!" Charlie shouted back, "I said I didn't want to go to that club when we were at the Parkinson's house, and you completely ignored it. I don't want Iz anywhere near those people yet you throw her in at any chance you get!"

"Because she's not a silly little girl, she's stubborn and makes her own decisions. You try to get her to stay here and see how it works for you!"

"Yeah, I will, and I think it will turn out well because I'm actually nice to her!"

"Yeah, and we all know why that is, don't we!"

"I hate that they're fighting about me," said Isobel quietly, "maybe if I had just tried to talk Pansy down instead of acting all cocky, then..."

"Isobel, stop," Lee interrupted, "you've never been one to shy away from a conversation. That's what's good about you, but you're not to blame here."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say the divide between them and Charlie goes back long before you came into it. You've given a new reason to fight, but you won't be the last."

"How did it start?"

"Well..."

They were interrupted by the bedroom door opening.

"Good morning," said George who looked like he had just taken his first breath of fresh air in days, "oh hello Isobel and Lee!"

He walked out to the living room in a disturbingly happy and loud fashion to alert Charlie and Fred that she and Lee were sitting out there. She would've thought he was high if Isobel didn't know any better. "Who wants coffee?"

"Make mine a double," Charlie said as he exited, and George walked into the kitchen. Isobel watched as Fred left the bedroom, saying nothing and heading towards the bathroom with a stone-faced scowl. She followed him so closely that she almost missed Charlie approaching her.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

Isobel snapped out of it and her attention returned to the room, standing up off the sofa. "Yeah," she told him, "I'm fine."

Charlie went to kiss her, but she flinched. Now more aware of how their relationship reflected the dynamics than ever, she relegated him to her cheek instead of her lips. His eyes narrowed at this rejection, but if he had a problem with it - he certainly didn't let it be known.

"I understand if you need to take the day to get over what happened," he said to her.

"I just need to know what that parchment says," Isobel replied, one eye still resting on the hallway, "at least last night got us something."

Charlie nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I understand. Well, we're going to look at it now. Do you want a coffee?"

"Yes, please," said Isobel, though she didn't know if caffeine was the best thing for her right now, "I'm just going to go to the bathroom, brush my hair out and all that."

She stepped around him and walked to the hallway, heading towards the bathroom door until it opened and Fred came out. They acknowledged each other, and she knew she wanted to say something to him, but he looked right down at the ground and walked straight past her. It made her fumble for her words, and she found herself caring about how she worded things.

"Thank you," she said, the words stumbling out of her mouth as she turned around, "for not letting me kill Pansy."

Fred stopped and turned to look back at her, almost as if he didn't want to reply but felt he had to. "Don't mention it," he shrugged.

"But I appreciate it," she said, stepping forward as he turned away, "I know we're not friends, but you stopped me from doing a terrible thing."

"You fought against Pansy for us," said Fred, and as they made eye contact, she no longer felt the pure hatred she used to feel when seeing that shade of brown. “It showed me all I needed to know that we were on the same team. You're off the hook with my brother; I won't get between you anymore."

He walked off before she could reply, seemingly handing an olive branch, but it didn't sit right with Isobel. After all that fighting, he was...letting her and Charlie be together? His behaviour was confusing, like someone had abducted his body and put a different soul in there.

Something was off, and after hearing how their argument had abruptly ended, Isobel was sure something was up with the Weasley brothers.

***

"Holy shit."

"I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."

"This can't be real? Can it?"

"Unfortunately, George, I think it is."

They all stood there, staring at the map on the kitchen table below them. It showed the whole of Great Britain, and numerous dotted lines were pencilled into it, all interconnecting.

"Underground tunnels," Lee Jordan muttered, "is this how they're getting to Semperess?"

"Or railways," said George. His face had gone pale.

"No, they're using roads," said Isobel, and she pointed down to the map, "look, each of these lines is aligned with a main motorway."

All of the men looked at her for answers. It reminded her of group projects at Hogwarts when students expected her to know everything.

"It's like a big road that connects cities, making it easier to get from A to B," she explained.

"But why would they use roads out in the open?" Charlie asked. "Why not apparate?"

Fred answered that question.

"Hiding in plain sight," he said, "think about it; magic gets traced, muggles are too oblivious to notice cars travelling at magic speed, and wizards wouldn't feel the need to ever go near one as we have quicker transportation. Buses don't have regulations like boats and add no disruption like additional trains on the tracks. They'd hardly get noticed adding another vehicle to the road."

"He's right," said Isobel. She didn't dare lift her eyes from the map to see his reaction to her agreeing with him.

"Yeah but Charlie might be onto something," said George, "the Ministry know about Semperess, they wouldn't care about people apparating there, so why are they using roads?"

This gave Isobel a disturbing and stomach-churning idea.

"Because they're not just transporting themselves," she said, looking up at George, "this is how they're getting prisoners there undetected. You can only transport a maximum of two people at a time when you apparate, but if you consider how much time that would take-"

"Then this allows a bigger load to be transported," said Fred, "...without anyone having any tracking off it."

Isobel nodded at him, and the whole room fell heavy as each person took a deep breath.

"We need to find one of the entry points," Charlie huffed, bringing the map closer to him and analysing the markings, "enough searching houses; this will take us directly to Sempress."

"I agree," said Isobel, who was happy he was being so determined. "If this is what they're doing, then we must stop it right now."

"With what weapons?" asked Fred.

"And with what manpower?" asked George, "I think we need to do a stakeout before we go in guns blazing otherwise we're just asking to be arrested ourselves."

Isobel was stunned that those two were the ones objecting to a risky situation.

"Well, where do you suggest we start then?" Charlie asked his brothers.

Lee, who had been listening to and studying the map until then, pointed to a dot on the left-hand side of the map.

"These dots are starting points," said Lee, his eyes racing across the parchment, "and that one's not far from here. I'm sure we could all apparate there and check it out."

"All? You'd want to come too?" Isobel asked him.

"You think I'm going to let you guys do this and me stay at home?" he replied, "some of my best friends are muggleborns; I'm coming with you."

Isobel smiled and felt surrounded by more friends than enemies for the first time in a long time.

"There you go. We have a location and manpower. Is that enough for you?" Charlie asked Fred and George.

"I think it's a bad idea," said Fred, "but if you and Monroe want to head up this one, then who am I to stop you? My only thing is, we go at night. Whatever is happening there should be abandoned by that time."

"It will give you two some time to think of a plan," said George, and he grinned at his brother sarcastically.

***

At 7 p.m., the sun had set, and the group had arrived at a field just outside of Manchester. They were all dressed in black and held their wands tightly in their hands. Isobel had to wear an old leather jacket of Charlie's, which was hanging quite oversized.

"What should we even be looking for?" George asked as they all looked around their blank and very dark surroundings. They could only hear cars driving on a road very far away.

"There's another field over this hill," said Lee, pointing his lit wand towards the distance. "It's right next to a motorway. If anything's here, I bet that's where it is."

And so, they followed Lee's gut feeling and started walking up the tall, steep hill that divided the two fields. It hadn't rained in days, so the glass was dry, making it easier to climb with the crispy grass underneath their feet.

"Don't climb over the top," said Fred as they neared the highest point, "only stick your head out, and if you see something, lie flat."

"Oh thanks for telling me that," Charlie grunted, "I thought of standing on top of the hill and shouting "Oi Oi Death Eaters I'm here - come get me!"

Isobel and George both looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Why is it so bad between them?" she whispered.

"They're brothers, brothers fight," he answered, "but if you leave me with them again I will kill you, I need my moments of peace."

They reached the top of the hill, and without fail, they ducked immediately and lay flat on the ground. Lee's gut had been right, the marked spot had been a symbol for something horrifying. Below them, they could see a large gated cage covering the circumference of the whole field, and around 100 witches and wizards were shivering inside it in the night breeze. Surrounding the cage stood wizards in black uniforms who were patrolling and keeping the caged wizards in line. One was placed at each of two doors, one for in and one for out, and four more were instructing the witches and wizards inside the cage to make a line towards the exit where a large bus was waiting. Then, ten or so were walking around and keeping their hands on their wands. It was an entire operation.

"Oh my god," Isobel gasped, grabbing her mouth and shoving her head down to the ground, "I'm going to be sick."

Charlie placed her hand on his back as an offering of comfort, which made her almost jump out of her skin. "It's okay, we're going to stop this."

"How?" asked George, and he looked over Isobel's head to turn to his brothers, "they outnumber us twofold."

"Not helping," Charlie muttered through gritted teeth. 

He needn't have bothered; Isobel wasn't listening to them much anyway. Her ears had become blocked, and a wave of wooziness came over her. They must have put a protection spell over the area so muggles didn't notice it because she was amazed that no one was stopping and staring at this horrendous sight.

"False hope doesn't help either," Fred told him snootily. "George's right. There's loads more guards than us."

"Then what do we do about it?" Charlie asked, "we can't just sit here."

"Wasn't strategy meant to be your job this time?" George asked. He seemed to enjoy this comment, as Charlie had made it such a big point that he wanted to take control.

Charlie tilted his head around to George and spoke in a condescending tone. He never liked it when his brother ganged up on him, and Isobel was quickly learning that. "Witches and wizards are being loaded aboard that torture bus. This isn't exactly what I planned on walking into!"

"Ah, finally, a confession that you have no idea what's going on in this country at all," said Fred, smirking, "well, now that's finally put to rest, let me teach you how to plan to take these guys down properly. Welcome to lesson number one: making sure we don't fucking kill anyone."

"I can't believe it's happening again," Isobel whispered, finally getting words out after being in her horror bubble, "it's actually happening again."

"I know, my parents always told me the story of the first wizarding war," said Lee, who had heard her from the other side of George and was sharing her concern, "they always knew if you-know-who came back then he would try to eradicate muggleborns once more, but I always prayed that it wouldn't happen."

"Not just the first wizarding war. This has been happening repeatedly," said Isobel, "throughout history, this has happened in the muggle world. Every ten years or so, a new dictator who thirsts for power shows up and decides to blame his problems on someone new; I'm sick of it. It's like clockwork; no one ever learns how to prevent it. It's always been about power for them, but the Wizarding world already has so much; why would anyone feel the need to do this to innocent people when we have all the tools for peace?"

"You said it yourself. It's about power," said Fred, who answered for a speechless Lee, "and certain wizards care so much about it that they want all of it for themselves. Wizards and muggles aren't that different. The bad ones always strive for total control."

At Fred's frankly astoundingly wise words, Isobel returned her eyes to the view below. They all watched silently and waited for a plan to come to them. This wasn't just confronting her Slytherin friends anymore; this was a whole new level of risk. 

"Can you see Luna?" Charlie whispered to her.

"No," said Isobel with part relief. She was happy Luna wasn't caged up here, but that didn't mean she wasn't locked up someplace else, and she was no closer to getting to her. She continued searching the crowd of witches and wizards to see if she recognised anyone, and after a few minutes, she felt better that she didn't, but then she came across a tall, slim, dark-skinned boy with a familiarly kind face.

"Oh no, please no," she gasped as she leaned forward and tried to look harder.

"What is it?" asked Charlie.

"Dean Thomas," she answered, "he's in there."

Fred, George and Lee all snapped their heads to look at her. "Wait, what? Are you sure?" asked George.

Isobel tried to focus very hard. She tried to think that it looked nothing like Dean, but the resemblance was uncanny. She nodded at George to confirm and pointed towards Dean. "Yes, it's him. He's right there, about sixth in line, look!"

"Dean? But he's meant to be at Hogwarts," said Lee as Fred shuffled forward on his elbows to check things out for himself.

"They probably stopped the Hogwarts train," Fred huffed, "Snape probably gave them direct access."

He side-eyed Isobel, given their argument over Snape's allegiances a couple of weeks ago, and she couldn't help but think he might have been right. It was the only way Dean's presence made sense.

"So any muggle-born on the Hogwarts Express probably got taken?" Charlie asked.

Isobel looked around; there was no one else she could recognise from this distance. "We have to assume so, though I don't recognise anyone else. Dean is smart. Is there a chance he never even got on the train? To keep hidden?"

"If he did, then they found him quick," said Lee, "poor bastard."

The guards opened the exit door and ushered the caged witches and wizards to walk out, directing them towards the bus whose engine had just begun. The first wizard, an older man with long grey hair, was pushed onto it, and the urgency between them increased.

"We have to get him out. We can't leave him there to get taken," Isobel insisted. Dean was a fellow muggle-born, and they had only lived about an hour away from each other. If her theory was correct and Dean had stayed home, then that could've easily been her there too if she had stayed home that summer.

"We could create a distraction," George suggested, "we just need to get the keys to open the cage."

"Even that won't save them all," said Charlie, nodding downwards towards the site, "some are already on the bus."

"Thank you, Mr Depressing," Fred muttered sarcastically.

"We could light some smoke bombs and drag the guards' attention away," George explained as Charlie glared at Fred. "Once a few of them are gone, we could easily knock out the others with attack spells and set them all free."

"We just need to find out who has the key to the cage," said Lee.

"I'll do it," Charlie answered confidently.

"Are you mad?" said Fred. "They know who we are, a Weasley can't go. We need someone they won't see as suspicious."

"We don't have any of those," said Lee.

Fred smirked proudly and reached into his coat pocket to withdraw a vile with dark hair. "No, but we do have a hair from Pansy Parkinson that I picked up off the sofa from the club; who would like to have the honours of walking around in the devil's shoes for an hour?"

"I'll do it," said Isobel without a flinch, and she reached for the vile. Charlie slapped her hand away, bemused that she would put herself forward. "Iz, I'm sorry, but you've already been counted out for this."

"No, those are my people down there. That could easily be me," said Isobel. Her face frowned as she was annoyed at him speaking for her when he knew she didn't like that.

"Exactly, which is why you shouldn't go down there," said Charlie, "they'd hurt you."

Isobel raised herself onto her forearms and turned to him to make sure he got her point crystal clear. "Charlie, if someone's freeing them, it's going to be me," she told him with fire in her eyes, "They kidnapped my best friend, and now they're imprisoning my people. Trust me - they wouldn't dare mess with me with how I feel right now."

Fred had to hide his face, but she could see the corners of his mouth turn into his grin. She didn't know whether he was so entertained at the idea of her finally breaking or telling off his older brother, but at this moment, she was just perplexed that it was Charlie she was fighting instead of him. When Charlie sighed and shook his head out of annoyance, Fred mouthed to him... "I told you so."

"Give me the polyjuice potion," Isobel told Fred, "how much of it did you bring?"

"Enough for an hour or two," Fred replied as he shuffled through his other pocket and got out a flask, "the rest of the stock is back at Lee's."

"Right," she said, "I'll come down with you and walk out to the guards. When I locate the keys, I'll signal you when to blow up the bombs. Where are you going to do them?"

"We'll plant them on the east side," George answered. "It's not near the motorway, and the guards will have to walk further to find the source."

"Good. Then, as soon as you do that, get back to me and help get everyone out."

"Whatever you say," said Fred. He went to hand Isobel the polyjuice potion, but Charlie again stuck his hand out.

"And how do you have all these weapons at your disposal?" Charlie asked.

"Because we're prepared?" Fred answered back sarcastically. "Lesson number two."

"You should never come to a potential Death Eater turnout without weapons," said George.

"I'll give you back up," Lee told Isobel over George's head.

"Whoa, wait. If anyone is giving back up, it's me," said Charlie, flipping his head left and right as he was surrounded.

"I don't need backup," Isobel told him. "The fewer people involved, the better."

"No," said Lee, and Isobel looked back at him. "I promised not to abandon you once and let you down. I'm not going to do that again."

Isobel smiled. She admired Lee's commitment to righting his wrongs. "Fine," she said, "Lee hides behind that shed there as a backup in case I need to make a quick getaway."

She pointed to the little shed in front of the cage that she assumed the guards used as an office. Lee nodded in acknowledgement. 

"So what, I just stand here like a lemon whilst you all sacrifice yourselves?" asked Charlie.

Isobel did feel sorry for him feeling left out, but she couldn't help but think he was pushing himself out for being so negative.

"We're going to need someone to help fight the guards," she said to him, thinking of something he could do, "you're the most experienced in spells. You can help out there. Come down and hide with Lee."

"You can do that Charlie can't you? Considering how much you advocated for violence last night," said Fred.

Isobel and Lee glanced at each other at Fred's comment as he put the hair in the polyjuice potion flask. Now, with no resistance from Charlie, he handed it over to Isobel, who downed it in one go. The taste never got easier, no matter how much she took it.

She looked down at her hand as bubbles started to appear under her skin, and within minutes, she was transformed into Pansy Parkinson's body. It was easy to manoeuvre as they were about the same shape and size, but the short, straight-cut hair made her feel a bit naked.

"Pollyjuice potion never fails to astound me," said Charlie as he stared at her open-eyed.

"And me," said Lee, who was looking at her as if she was grotesque. "Ugh, I thought it would be years before I saw that bony face again, it gives me chills."

Pansy was not kind to any of the Gryffindors during her time in the Inquisitorial Squad or anyone who wasn't a Slytherin, but Isobel remembered a distinct time when Lee had been her target of an angry afternoon. She understood why he didn't want to look at her for over five seconds.

"Should we go then?" she asked, "I don't want to waste another second up here while they're trapped down there."

"Okay," said Fred, and he shuffled low on his knees towards her and George, "me, George and Monroe will go set up, you two apparate after us and we all wait on Monroes signal - let's set these sods free."

Before Isobel could retreat backwards to be with the twins who were bundling together, Charlie grabbed your hand. "We're gonna be right behind you," he said, and he leaned forward and kissed her. This made her stop thinking for a split second to indulge in something good, and for that, she was thankful.

Fred whispered something in Lee Jordan's ear as she slid back to join them. As soon as she grabbed George's hand, they were all transported off of the hill. They landed amongst the trees just on the outskirts of the cage, and as soon as their feet touched the ground, three of them hid behind a large bush. With the protection of being hidden, George and Fred immediately opened their rucksacks to reveal about a hundred small circular metal balls.

"You've got enough to blow up a whole bloody town,"  Isobel whispered, "and you just casually brought these, did you?"

"You know, it's okay to say you're impressed. It's not going to kill you," said George with a smile.

"No no keep her going," said Fred, "she's got the whole Pansy demeanour down looking down at us like that."

Isobel huffed. She certainly didn't want to be compared to Pansy Parkinson, even if acting like her right now would be a compliment on her acting skills. "Funny," she said, "I'll go now. Just look out for my signal."

"Which will be?" George asked.

"You'll know."

Isobel slyly walked out around the bush and scanned the scene as she acted like she was meant to be there. Many guards patrolling the place held eye contact with her and nodded, but she knew her best chance of finding the key was finding the person who was in charge, and none of them looked like that. Then her eyes turned her attention to the grey-haired guard standing near the bus with a clipboard, checking off the names of the witches and wizards as they got on the bus. She noticed that he had a gold medal on his uniform jacket, which appeared to be some commendation, so she assumed that he was somewhat important.

"Hello," she said as she approached the man. When she got close enough, she could read his name tag stitched into his jacket. His name was Hargreaves. 

"Miss Parkinson," said Hargreaves when he saw her and he immediately straightened up and held his head higher, "my apologies, I wasn't informed that you were visiting tonight."

So Pansy had been here before. 

Isobel channelled what she knew of Pansy Parkinson and kept her nose up in the air, believing she was better than everyone else. "We didn't want to make it known," she told him smartly. "I've been sent to make sure all is in order."

She was sure she saw a little fear in him when she said this, but he covered it well. "I'm sure you'll find everything in order," said the Hargreaves, and he adjusted his rounded spectacles as he showed her his list. "All prisoners accounted for and were listed in alphabetical order. No one will go undocumented."

Isobel stared down at the list. All those names, each a person only being treated as something to tick off.

"And what is their scheduled time of arrival?" Isobel asked.

"Around 2 am, ma'am," Hargreaves answered.

Isobel tried to work out the distance—it was only four hours away. Given the speed of wizard travel, such as the infamous night bus, that meant that it would usually be a six-hour journey by standard muggle cars. Now they had an idea of where to start looking for Semperess.

"Very well, you do seem to have a handle on the situation," she said with a statement Pansy half-smile. She never gave people beneath her a full smile. She didn't deem them worthy.

Hargreaves looked pleased and relieved. Isobel thought she had acted well enough to convince him and could now push it further to get the key.

"There is one thing," said Isobel, "Father has security concerns. Who controls the keys to the cage?"

"Oh, that would be me, ma'am," he said proudly, and he pulled a large black key out from his trouser loop attached to a retractable chain, "I'm never without them, and the keys are enchanted to lock on here - nobody is getting them off."

"Is that so?" Isobel asked. This slightly worried her, as she didn't know a spell that would undo that. She could only think of alohamora, which was too juvenile, and they would have thought of that already.

Just out of the corner of her eye, she could see Fred and George back in position, having planted the bombs. Everything was set; she knew where the keys were, and the twins were in place. Showtime. She put her right hand behind her back towards Fred and George and put her hands into a fist except for her middle and index finger, which she had flexed straight. She curled the fingers out twice to give them the signal.

A couple of seconds went by. 

Nothing. 

A few more seconds. 

Again, nothing. 

So she did it again. 

Still nothing.

"Fucking go man," she heard someone whisper from behind. It was Lee Jordan from around the shed, telling Fred and George that it was the signal.

Isobel suddenly remembered. Fred and George wouldn't know that signal - only Lee would. She had helped him with it once.

"What was that?" Hargreaves asked as he looked suspiciously over his shoulder. He must have heard Lee too.

"Oh, that's just the local creatures," said Isobel, thinking quickly and attempting to throw him off the scent, "pigeons, the muggles call them, such unusual birds, make funny noises like that."

"You know about muggle creatures, do you?" Hargreaves asked. He was curious, given Pansy came from a strictly pure-blood family.

"I take it upon myself to know everything about our locations," Isobel snapped, raising an eyebrow, "are you telling me you don't?"

This put Hargreaves's back up, and he instantly started to defend himself.

"Oh n-no," he stuttered, "of course I do. I'm just impressed with your knowledge, Miss Parkinson."

She quite liked having this power over him. There was something so satisfying about watching a man who was so comfortable having control over others squirm under the interrogation of a teenage girl.

"Good."

There was a loud bang from the trees to the right of them, and a puff of red smoke arose into the sky. Fred and George finally got the signal and released the first distraction bomb.

"What the?" said Hargreaves, his face angering. He pointed to two guards who were patrolling the cage. "James, Davidson, go check that out!"

The two guards followed his order and walked toward the smoke. As they approached the trees, another bomb went off in the opposite direction, to the left of Isobel and Hargreaves.

Hargreaves became slightly uneasy, trying to remain still, calm and in control of the situation in front of Isobel. "Anderson, Montgomery," he shouted to another pair of officers, "that way!"

The two officers close to the left-hand side turned and began searching for the culprit of the mysterious red smoke. However, they weren't going to find anything, as not one minute later, a bomb went off behind them near the cage's entrance. Isobel didn't know how they did it because there were no trees there—Fred of George must have managed to appear and release the bomb almost instantly to give the illusion of invisibility. 

She thought it was rather clever.

"We're under attack!" shouted Hargreaves at the sight of this. He transformed into a military leader. "Put all the muds back in the cage and find the source!"

Isobel contained her anger as she watched the lined-up wizards get pushed back forcefully into the cage. At the front of the line was Dean Thomas, who stared down the man with disgust.

This prompted her to think on her feet. 

"Let me lock the cage," Isobel demanded.

"But I must do it!" Hargreaves refused.

"No, my father pays you to keep this place in line, which it clearly isn't," Isobel insisted, "Give me the keys and deal with this, or I'll tell him you're useless."

At this threat, Hargreaves rushed to find and unlock his keys, finally handing them over to Isobel, who attempted to contain her grin. He then turned to join his subordinates in search of the phantom boomers, and Isobel ran straight towards the exit gate, where she pretended to put the key in the lock and had problems turning it. She just had to wait for Lee and Charlie to start attacking the guards so that she could abandon the act and open it completely. 

She looked up and saw Dean Thomas's face before her, and her face softened in sadness.

"Dean..."

"Don't speak to me," he replied roughly as if he had not spoken in days. Only now could she see that he had gotten thinner, and his baby face had turned sharp as his cheekbones pierced his skin.

"No, it's me, Isobel Monroe," she whispered to him quietly.

"Have you gone mental?" Dean retaliated, "I know you think us muggleborns are less than Pansy, but we're not gullible idiots."

"No, I'm telling the truth. I took a polyjuice potion to become Pansy," said Isobel. "I'm with Fred and George Weasley, their brother Charlie, and Lee Jordan. We're here to break you out."

Dean leaned forward so that his nose pushed past the thin metal bars. "See, this is where your ignorance fails you, Pansy," he told her, "Fred and George wouldn't be caught dead with Isobel Monroe in a million years."

"They have Luna," Isobel told him, "and Draco Malfoy burned down Fred and George's shop. We have a common enemy."

"Prove it," said Dean.

Isobel looked around and lifted her right hand. She showed him the signal she gave Fred and George, and Dean's eyes narrowed as he recognised it.

"Isobel," he said, then his eyes turned to panic, "I'm sorry I- you can't be here - if they find out about you, they'll put you here too!"

"What's going on over there?" asked Hargreaves. Dean's voice had become a little too panicked and loud, distracting him from searching. He looked down at the gate to see that Isobel had not yet closed it and was talking to the prisoners. "Why is that not locked?"

Isobel began to panic. "I was uh-just..."

"Stupefy!"

A beam of red light shot out from behind the shed and hit Hargreaves in the chest, rendering him unconscious and causing him to fall to the floor. Charlie walked out behind it with his arm raised, meaning he was the culprit of the attack, and Lee quickly followed as the spell caught the attention of all the other guards.

"Intruders!" shouted one of them as he cast expelliarmus at Lee. Lee managed to dodge and fire the same back, causing his wand to fly out from his hand. This was the start of a back-and-forth duel.

Now, all the guards were retreating from the forest, and Lee and Charlie had to defend their attacking spells, so Fred and George came out from behind the bushes to help them battle it out. Isobel took this as her chance, as everyone was distracted. She swung the cage door open and pointed toward the way they came.

"Get out and apparate as quickly as possible!" Isobel told them.

"They took our wands and put a protective spell over this land so we can't apparate out of here by ourselves," Dean told her, "muggle-born only rule, of course."

"Then run," she replied, "go over that hill, and you'll be free. I'm sorry. I know it's not the best option, but we will try to hold them off for as long as possible."

Dean stepped forward and embraced her tightly, squeezing her so hard that she felt her insides squish against each other. "Thank you," he said, "for giving us a chance." 

Without wanting to waste any more time to be free, Dean and the other prisoners stormed out of the cage and ran for the hill, ducking below the numerous spells blasted towards them by the guards to stop them.

"They're getting away!" a guard shouted as he fired a curse at Charlie, who deflected it into the sky.

 On his way around the cage, Dean almost got hit by a blast, but he was saved by Lee, who diverted the spell away onto an oncoming tree. Isobel helped the last witches and wizards escape the cage and stayed behind them as they ran, acting as another deflection barrier. However, it was quite an easy job. The boys were holding their own amazingly, and about half the guards were already knocked to the floor. 

Once the last person reached over the hill, Isobel looked for where she was needed. She looked at the bus and saw that the prisoners who had been placed on it were still stuck there. The door was closed, and they couldn't get out.

Isobel ran straight towards it, defended by Fred and George as she ran behind them. George was locked in a heavy battle with a guard, but Fred took some delight in taking on two simultaneously with a binding curse. She got to the door and put the key in the lock, but when she tried to turn it, it didn't work.

"You need to bust it open!" a terrified woman on the other side of the door said.

Isobel listened and stood back to get out her wand. Those stuck on the bus shuffled back to be out of the way. "Bombarda!" she shouted, and a few moments later, the door combusted into itself and flew back, creating a gap for the prisoners to exit through now.

She guided them towards the hill, and this time, she ran over the top with them to see what had happened to the others. She could see a few stragglers in the trees, but other than that, nobody. They had all managed to run free. It was a joyful sight.

"Ahhh!"

Isobel heard a loud collective cry. She snapped around as quick as her body let her, expecting to see someone fighting on her side hurt, but she was guiltily relieved. All the remaining guards had been knocked unconscious on the floor with their hair all sticking on end. It was as though they had been electrocuted.

Silence fell across the field as spells stopped being cast, and all that could be heard were the cars in the distance. Fred, George and Lee all stood there with their wands out, staring at Charlie with their mouths open.

"What happened?" Isobel shouted as she ran down the hill with heavy breath. "Who did that?"

"Charlie did," said George. It was the first time she had seen him in awe of his brother.

"That's brilliant," said Isobel as a smile grew across her face, "you got them all Charlie!"

When she reached him, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, happy they had achieved their task. 

"Brilliant?" Fred repeated as they broke their embrace. "If any of us had done that, you would've called it irresponsible!"

He was the only one who didn't seem pleased that Charlie had ended their fight this way.

"Not if no one was hurt," said Isobel honestly.

"Oh yeah, and do they look unhurt to you?" Fred asked, pointing to the bodies on the floor, "no one's even checked to see if they're breathing!"

"Does it matter if they are?" Lee asked suggestively with a casual shrug. "I mean, they had Dean locked in a cage. A cage."

"It's a rule of the Order," Fred told him sternly, "we don't kill people, remember?"

"Don't be silly. They're not dead," said Isobel, looking closely to see if she could see any of their chest moving. She said it confidently but wasn't so sure after a while. Perhaps the darkness was causing her not to see their lungs moving up and down.

"Maybe that's the rule in your little amateur Order but the real adults know to do what needs to be done," said Charlie as he put his wand back in jean pocket, "back up is inevitable and we needed time to get out of here ourselves."

Fred's face appeared like he had been slapped with a cold fish. "Amateur?!"

"It doesn't matter," said Isobel, who could sense another fight between them brewing, "what's important is that every single one of those witches and wizards are now free. They got a second chance because of us. Let's focus on that."

A change in atmosphere told her they realised she was right, and Charlie and Fred backed down, squashing their dispute as they prioritised the good over the bad.

"Let's get back to the apparating spot," she ordered, taking charge, "I have a feeling they're tracing any magic used on this land and Charlie's right, back ups inevitable."

They followed her lead and started walking back towards the hill, tired and content with the spirit of doing a good deed. They had almost reached the top of the hill when a whooshing sound signalled an unwelcome arrival. 

"Stop right there!"

The group looked over their shoulder in unison to see who the voice was coming from, and to the Weasley's horror, they were met with a conflicting feeling.

"Percy," said Fred, who was at the back and closest to their brother. Percy was in the same uniform as the other guards, except he had three more medals on his chest than Hargreaves had. Isobel didn't want to think about what all these medals were for. 

Percy took out his wand and enchanted a pair of metal handcuffs around Fred's hands, binding them together. "You're under arrest," he told him like he was just some criminal stranger. "For attacking Ministry Officials."

"Percy, what are you doing?" said George, who stepped next to Fred to protect his brother. "You don't always have to be a prat - we're family."

"Not anymore," said Percy, and without looking at him in the eyes, he also contained George in handcuffs. "Your choices have made that quite clear."

Isobel watched next to Charlie, who couldn't believe what he saw. Isobel had always admired Percy, how he had followed the rules and become head boy, but even she couldn't understand why you would want to arrest your flesh and blood for helping innocent people. 

"Don't do this," said Isobel, "we'll just leave. No one has to know."

"Is that so, Miss Parkinson?" Percy asked snootily as his wand pointed towards her. "That's interesting because as soon as I cuff you, the magic will wear off, and we'll find out who you really are, won't we?"

"Petrificus Totalus!" said Charlie.

A flash of blue shot out of his wand, covering Percy in ice from when it touched him. He froze to a solid and fell to the floor like a wood plank, laying still after rolling a few meters down the hill.

"Sorry, brother," was all Charlie could flatly utter. His eyes were glazed over, and he seemed cold and unemotional.

With Charlie in a daze, Isobel and Lee quickly lept to George and Fred, respectively, helping them break off the handcuffs until they could wiggle their hands out. None of them commented about what had just happened, as none of them could've said they would've done anything different.

The Weasley family was split in more ways than one, and Charlie had finally seen it. Isobel had, too, and as she saw Percy, a person she had once taken inspiration from, lying on the floor with a guard's uniform, she questioned everything she had ever known. 

Knowledge wasn't everything, and even the most intelligent people could be brainwashed into committing unspeakable crimes...

...And even those you think were against you could be your greatest ally in a time of need.

Chapter Text

No one was the same when they got back from the camp. The sobering truth of what they had witnessed was too much for any of them to attempt polite conversation. Fred and George tried, but it was useless. All they could do was offer a round of tea to help everyone get to sleep.

On Lee's sofa, Isobel lay awake thinking about what the Wizarding World had come to. She reminisced under the moonlight about how happy she had been to become a witch, to be a part of something wonderful, and she thought about how the Wizarding World seemed so tolerable compared to the muggle one when she was younger. However, as the years had gone by, the rose-tinted glasses had fallen off, and her awe for her new community had vanished into dust. There was just as much cruelty here, just as many screwed-up people, and just as much injustice.

"Fancy seeing you here," George whispered as he exited his and Fred's bedroom. His hair was sticking up at the back from the tossing and turning Isobel had assumed he'd done.

She turned on her side and smiled at him with her face squashed against the pillow. "We can't keep meeting like this," she joked.

This had become the thing they would say when meeting up in the middle of the night.

"Coffee?" he asked. "We might as well have one at this point, no chance I'm going to get any sleep."

"I'll take a miss," Isobel replied, and she lay flat on her back again, hitting her head back against the pillow so it made a thud, "I'm still praying that I'll be able to salvage a few hours."

"Not like you to be the optimist," George smirked.

He went to make his coffee, returned with his mug and another one filled with water for Isobel, and handed it to her. She had forgotten to make herself one before bed.

"Thanks," she said, and she sat up against the cushions as George sat on the end of the sofa next to her feet. "What a night, huh."

George took a large breath and sunk back, taking a sip. "What-a-night."

A question came to mind, but she didn't speak it out loud.

"Go on," he said, "say what you want to say."

"I don't want to say anything," she replied.

"I know you now Isobel Monroe, I know when your stopping yourself from speaking. It's a rare sight."

Isobel looked at him knowingly and bit her lip as she attempted to word this correctly. "Okay fine, but I'm asking you this because you're the only one who could give me an honest answer..." she said, "...do you think those guards died tonight?"

George didn't look that surprised at this question. 

"I don't know if I can answer that," he said, and Isobel was ready to accept that she had stepped out of line. "Because I've been asking myself the same thing."

"You didn't see them moving either?" she asked. She was glad that someone else had seen it too.

George shook his head, and Isobel felt a deep weight on her stomach. If neither of them saw them moving, then there was a high possibility that, unfortunately, the guards had died. They had been witness to a mass murder...committed by someone on their team.

"Is it bad that I feel sympathy for them?" Isobel asked, "even after what we saw them doing?"

"No," George sighed, and he placed a hand on her feet, "seeing someone die never gets easier. Whether you like them or not." 

Thoughts of the deaths she had seen appeared briefly in her mind. Cedric, Dumbledore...it had always been after the fact that she had seen their bodies. This was the first time she had seen someone's life taken before her eyes.

"Are you okay?" George asked her, his eyes studying her zoning out. "This isn't bringing up any old memories, is it?"

Isobel was too tired to lie. "A little bit," she answered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it's okay," she said, adjusting herself to shake off the grave feeling. "But how do you feel about Charlie doing that? Because if that is the case and they are...you know... I don't know how I feel about that."

She asked him this as a guide. Her initial reaction was positive, but after Fred's outburst, she had thought about it and it made her take a step back. Conflicted within herself, she hoped George could provide some perspective from someone who knew Charlie better. 

"Me neither," he shrugged. From the way his body was so buried towards the back of the sofa, she could tell it was weighing down on him, too.

"Really?" asked Isobel, "just you looked so...proud of him almost."

She had expected him to convince her that everything was fine.

George turned his hips to face her, leaning further in to the conversation. "At first, yeah, it was awesome to see my brother do something cool; plus, I've never seen that spell before," he told her. 

Isobel's edges of her lips curled up as George's face brightened whilst talking about his brother. 

"You have to remember, Charlie was an absolute superstar at Hogwarts, both academically and at Quidditch - but we hardly got to see it. His legacy followed us when we joined, and we were massive letdowns compared to him, but whilst he was with us, he was our amazing big brother. It was good to see him be that again."

"So what changed your judgement?" she asked.

"Fred had a point," he answered, echoing Isobel's thoughts. "We don't kill people; that's what the bad guys do. We can't lower ourselves to that."

"Yeah, but what if it was necessary?" said Isobel, playing devil's advocate, "this is why I have mixed feelings. I don't want anyone murdered, but we all could've gotten arrested if he hadn't done that."

"That's why you can't tell Fred I'm torn," George whispered. "I don't know if I can follow the rules of Dumbledore's army anymore. Seeing Dean in that cage made me want to kill every guard there."

"Same," said Isobel, "and I don't think anyone would blame us, but don't worry - I won't tell Fred. It's not like we talk anyway."

"Yeah, well, you're not alone in that club," said George. "After tonight, I don't see his relationship with Charlie improving."

"If you don't mind me asking..." said Isobel, "Why has Fred been so angry at Charlie? I know they've been feuding, but Fred started it on this trip. Lee said it's been going on for a while, so what happened?"

George chuckled to himself and took another sip off coffee. The way he was acting about it made her want to know even more, and he was keeping her on the edge of her seat.

"Honestly," he laughed, "I think the two of them would kill me for telling you the whole story, but I can tell you that part of it is down to one thing - just brothers butting heads and being territorial."

"Territorial over what?" Isobel asked.

"Things they both care about, whether they realise it or not," George answered, "for example, and you can't tell either of them that I told you this. They're the two most protective over our family - and each of them wants to be top dog."

"So it's what, a pride/alpha male thing?" she questioned him as she tried to understand.

"Sort of," said George, and he tried to explain further, "Just dad is well...dad, so automatically, you would think that Bill would run things as he's the oldest. The thing is, because there were so many of us, Bill was practically already at Hogwarts when we began to form impressions, so we saw him as our older brother but didn't see him enough to look up to him, which then left Charlie."

"Who wasn't far behind Bill," Isobel interrupted.

George nodded. 

"So, we looked to Charlie for guidance, and he always liked our stuff, you know, our pranks, and always covered for us with mum," said George, and he smiled hollowly as he remembered their childhood, "but then he went away too, and Percy was always about himself, so suddenly we were the oldest ones in charge. There's not much of a gap between us, Ron and Ginny, so we all grew close, and Fred and I developed a real protective bond over them. A bond that none of our other brothers ever got the chance or bothered to do. So as soon as Charlie left Hogwarts and Ron joined, that's when everything changed, that's when the divide started."

"Divide? But I thought all you Weasleys were close?"

"Oh, we are," said George, "when we all get together, and mum and dad are around. It reminds us that we're a family. But we are split down the middle, and Fred and I were always the glue, as were the middle children."

Isobel followed along his every word. It was interesting getting to know the history behind a family she thought were always so black and white. She had seen the Weasley's as one annoying clan, so hearing that there was all this history made her rethink her judgement.

"So why is Fred so mad at Charlie if you're the glue?" she asked George.

"Well Bill was the oldest, he was always going to leave," George explained, "and with Percy being the way he is we knew we could never really rely on him, but Charlie, with we thought he would always be around. When he left, it upset us, but we understood. It was when he never came home that Fred and I, to an extent, started holding resentment. He was meant to be a big brother, the last one we didn't think would abandon us. Yet he abandoned all of us in the biggest way. Ever since then, it's been up to Fred and I. We were the ones who raised Ron and Ginny at Hogwarts, and we're the ones who can't leave because Mum and Dad need the stability of knowing at least some of their children are close. And that's not forgetting the Order. We want to do those things, so don't get me wrong, our family is our most important thing to us. It's just that we wish we didn't have that burden all on our own. The others can just come and go - with Charlie being mostly gone. That's where Fred is coming from."

Suddenly, a lot started to make sense. Fred's anger and his warnings of Charlie always leaving weren't threats of bile; Fred was saying what he thought was inevitable. It wasn't just to hurt her.

"I...I never thought about it like that," Isobel answered, slightly ashamed that she had been so quick to assume.

"It's because we never want to let on," said George, and a bittersweet expression fell from the corners of his eyes, "our brothers are out doing what they want to do, we can't make them feel bad about that. Even if it affects us."

There was a short silence as Isobel took in all she had heard and George revelled in the sadness telling that story had bought up. Her eyes glanced over him and she felt a rush of empathy, seeing him and Fred as more than just pranksters and boys that never took anything in life seriously. They could've abandoned their family and lived a life of fun and games but they didn't, they made do with what they had so that they could live their dream and be there for their family.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I think it's very admirable that you want to look over your whole family whilst also running a business," said Isobel, and she leaned forward to touch his hand caringly.

George looked down at her hand and his eyes twitched, probably confused at how it comforted him like it did her too.

"Yeah, like there's a business anymore to run," he spoke, and now the true sadness poured out of his low voice. "That was our most prized possession, our shop, something that was just ours to have and mould that didn't need to be shared. Yet those skull heads still managed to ruin that, didn't they?"

Isobel's hand squeezed his and looked at him as her friend. "We'll get it back, I promise," she said, and she really meant it. 

"We?" he asked.

"I'm the reason you lost it," she told him, "so it's only fair I help you rebuild it."

George smiled, and Isobel picked up that he was indeed thankful. "And if you do, would you finally buy something from there?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

Isobel almost choked on her spit as a natural reaction. "Let's not go that far," she giggled, "Getting your shop back and parting with my hard-earned money are two different things."

Now equipped with the Weasley history, Isobel knew just how to keep her promise to George. If they were going to save Luna and set all the muggleborns free, then they had to be united, whether Fred and Charlie liked it or not.

She just had to get one of them to be the grown up and squash this whole pride thing.

A couple of days later she had her chance, as after a few days of mopping and stressfully planning their next attack, Isobel invited Charlie to get coffee so they could spend some time alone.

"It's nice this, isn't it?" Charlie asked as they walked hand in hand through a nearby park. "Being out on our own."

They held their coffee cups in their free hands, and Charlie took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air. All the leaves on the trees had turned a variation of colours, mainly browns and yellows, and the colour palette of the surroundings made Charlie's loose, long Auburn hair feel like it was just another thing created by nature. Isobel watched him for a few seconds as the breeze ran through the whispers of his mane, and she thought it made him look so free. Amongst muggles, he stood out like a very daring-looking pirate.

"Yeah," she replied. It was nice for her, but probably for a different reason than he thought. The Weasley brothers were so much more accessible to get through to when away from the pack, and she had hoped that she could get some answers from him like she had George.

"I get so bored in that flat, it's claustrophobic," he said. "I just want to be out doing something, you know?"

Isobel didn't think jumping straight in there was the right idea, so she stayed on the topic of light conversation.

"What would you be doing right now, you know, if you were back in Romania?" she asked him.

"Oh, just the usual," he smiled, pleased that she had asked that question, "feeding the dragons, doing bits around the camp, getting prepared to go on a hike to get supplies for our conservation."

"And that's what you do, every day?"

"Yeah, and I love it. Just me, my friends and the dragons. Complete bliss with no interruptions."

Isobel recalled what George had told her. Charlie had been able to escape what had been happening here, and though that had initially intrigued her, now she didn't know if it was just an excuse not to get involved. The not knowing how bad things had gotten, the cluelessness of how places like Diagon Alley had been destroyed, it was becoming all too much of a coincidence. 

"And you don't miss home?" she asked.

Charlie frowned at her. "You know I do," he said. "I told you how much I've missed my family."

"Yeah, your family," said Isobel. "but I mean, do you miss being here, in Britain? Being so far away while everything is happening?"

He stopped walking, causing Isobel to stop with him. "Why do I feel like this is a starter question leading to something bigger you want to ask," he said suspiciously.

"Because it is," Isobel replied meekly, feeling bashful that she had been caught out, "I just mean, from what I've heard you've hardly been back, I just wondered why. You've never actually told me."

Charlie huffed, and Isobel tensed up with uneasiness. "So you've spoken to my brothers, and now you're doubting everything I've told you," he said out loud. "Great."

"No, I-"

"You know I'm going to kill Fred," Charlie interrupted, speaking forward towards no one, "he's always tried to ruin things between me and you. Once I see him, I'll-"

"Fred didn't say anything," Isobel intervened.

"So it was George," said Charlie, pivoting his anger onto his other brother, albeit somewhat more confused. "Hmm, that's interesting. Fred's usually the one opening his big mouth."

"It's not about them. I just want to know why you've stayed away whilst all these terrible things have been happening," Isobel told him calmly, trying to get him to listen. "You're brave, you tame dragons, so why didn't you come to help out here quicker than now?"

"I don't want to be a soldier," Charlie answered as she finally drew his attention back to her. "I don't see the point in fighting battles on behalf of the ministry."

"But it's not on behalf of the ministry. The ministry only believed you know who was back last year, and it has been going on longer than that," said Isobel.

"Exactly, they were in denial, not the type of idiots I want to lose my life fighting for," Charlie replied sarcastically, "they're all oafs, just like my brainwashed brother."

"Well, what about Harry, then? That's why your brothers fight," Isobel prompted. "Aren't you his friend too?"

"Isobel, my brothers fight because they feel they have to; they have to prove themselves. I've never had to do that. I have no business getting involved in what goes on at Hogwarts."

"So after everything you read in their letters, you never considered returning home to help?" Isobel snapped.

She was starting to get stroppy, but only because she couldn't believe what Charlie had told her.

"I had no idea it had gotten this bad, okay, and you know that," Charlie said to her in a hushed tone, "They never mentioned it in their letters, not mum and dads anyway, probably to protect me, and Fred and George stopped sending them as soon as your friend died."

"Why?" she asked, "Why after Cedric's death?"

Charlie hesitated and his cheeks inflated as he held in his breath. Isobel knew he was holding something back that she would judge him for.

"Why after Cedric's death?" she pushed on.

"That was the last time I was home," Charlie admitted. "I had been helping the Triwizard tournament and when I left that night I never looked back. Fred and George wrote me a letter begging me to return home permanently because Mum and Dad were driving them all crazy with worry, and I may have never gotten back to them because I didn't feel like it was needed."

Isobel began to feel a tiny bit of rage, which she had never experienced toward Charlie before. 

"You didn't feel like it was needed?" she asked, "after Voldemort came back and murdered my friend?"

"I didn't believe you-know-who was back, okay," said Charlie, wincing at her for saying Voldemort's name, "I thought it was just a threat. That the Diggory boy was a tragic warning. Had I known that it was actually him and the Order would induct my baby siblings into the fold, I might have reacted differently. I would've had them deal with things more strategically, less waiting around and more action, but I would've been there."

Isobel's eyebrows narrowed. "And by action, you mean?"

"Well it hasn't got them very far lurking in the shadows and relying on teenagers to fight their battles, has it," Charlie answered spitefully, "we need mature wizards handling things because we may have to make difficult choices to save lives - which I'm sure you understand as you-"

"So when you killed those guards that was you being a mature wizard and handling things?" she interrupted him quickly.

The anger at his ignorance had made her confident enough to say it. Charlie was caught off guard and didn't reply straight away. He saw the coldness forming in her eyes and quickly changed his approach.

"I didn't want to if that's your real question," he answered.

"So you did?" 

They were blocking the pathway, and a mother with a pram was heading their way, so Charlie pulled her aside under a nearby oak tree. "It's a spell us tamers learnt to use against poachers," he answered quietly as the woman walked by. "I saw no difference between them and those guards. It's only meant to stun, but I guess my emotions were too high, and I overdid it."

Isobel pictured all those bodies lying on the floor, dead. All those bodies that they had just abandoned with their families, not knowing that they wouldn't be returning home. It was a heavy feeling, and though they had been doing bad things, she didn't get how Charlie wasn't showing at least a little remorse.

"Well, it's easy to get angry," said Isobel as she tried not to upset Charlie further. "We all were angry but-"

"So you understand?" Charlie asked. There was a hint of an assumption that Isobel had to set straight.

She rounded on him, finding his question absurd. "No, I don't," she replied with a shrill voice, "I'm furious they're keeping people like me in those cages Charlie but I didn't fucking kill anyone because of it!"

Charlie grabbed her by both arms, keeping her still and refraining from causing a scene. "Iz the only way we're going to win this. We've got to use the anger they give us against them."

"If we kill, we're just as bad as them," Isobel said sternly. 

She hadn't felt this way since her time in the inquisitorial squad, and she never thought she would have to explain this point of view to a man whose whole family were determined to be heroes. "And we won't win if we're divided either. I don't care about what's going on between you and Fred, but I'm telling you now that it needs to be squished. We can't have infighting when we have a bigger enemy out there."

"And since when did you want to stop infighting?" Charlie asked, "you've been quite happy to do it with my brother until now."

"Since your stagging against each other caused you to kill twenty guards to prove yourself," Isobel replied, "we're no use to Luna if we're in prison for being murderers. Your fighting has to stop."

Charlie scoffed, and she knew she had scorned him with that comment. "What are you going to do? Get us to sit down and write apology notes to each other? Were adults Iz, stay out of it."

"I don't see much adulting," Isobel replied, "so you are going to talk to him. You're the older brother, you can solve this."

Charlie laughed at the notion. "I think the only way that would ever happen was if we were completely different people, and you only get to dress up like that on Halloween, which is only one day-"

"Wait, Halloween," said Isobel, stopping Charlie mid-sentence. Her eyes glazed over as a spark of memory burst to the forefront of her thoughts. 

Halloween. She had attended a party on Halloween once at the home of Draco Malfoy, where masks covered the faces of the country's most powerful witches and wizards. It was a couple of days away and the perfect way to find out information, and if the dark, hallowed halls she had snuck into were anything to go by...it was the perfect place to hide someone who had been kidnapped.

"What about it?" Charlie asked.

"Nothing," said Isobel, realising that it wouldn't be the best time to bring this memory up to Charlie, given how angry he already was. "Let's just forget this okay, let's head home."

An hour later, Isobel found herself knocking on Lee Jordan's spare bedroom door with a bad thought looming. She had taken a shower and, whilst in there, thought about the best way to take action on the idea she had whilst out with Charlie. Unfortunately, it had led to one person, the one who was lying on the bed reading a book on old charms.

"Hey," she said, her throat croaking.

Fred lifted his eyeline above his reading pages and slowly looked at her. 

"Lee's working," he told her flatly, "and George went out with Charlie to get dinner."

"I know, I sent them," Isobel replied. She timidly stepped into the room and hugged the waist of the stripped dressing gown Lee had given her.

"Why?" Fred asked suspiciously. She could only see his eyes above the lining on the book.

"Because I need to talk to you," she replied.

"About what?"

"What our next steps are."

She had gone to George after her walk with Charlie. She had told him how Charlie had reacted and asked him, as a favour, to take him out to get a takeaway for the five of them so that they could bond. Even though George had been the one to spill the beans to her, she knew Charlie would still would be more receptive to him than Fred.

However, neither of them knew what her true intentions were for getting them out the house.

"We'll talk about it tonight when we eat," said Fred, and his eyes went back down to his book, "so you don't have to be here doing whatever this is."

"No, I, I mean I wanted to talk to you about it privately," she said, taking a further step towards his bed.

Fred looked around curiously as though he had entered a strange dream, his eyes narrowing at her. "You do know I'm not George...right?"

"Don't be a git, Fred. Of course I know the difference between the two of you," she said as she walked forward again so that her legs touched the foot of the bed, "please stop, this is already hard enough without you acting dumb."

Fred slapped the book down to his thighs, and when she saw his whole face, she didn't feel so nervous anymore. "Just come out with it then," he replied with a blunt expression. "It's almost sad seeing you this nice."

His lack of warmth triggered her fight-or-flight response, and she immediately turned to leave. "You know what?" she scoffed, "this was a mistake."

"Monroe get your butt back in here," Fred shouted after her as soon as her foot stepped out of the door. His command spoke like magic, and she halted to the spot, though she still felt like walking away. "If it was important enough for you to come in here, then it's still important to say now."

Isobel bit her tongue and turned back around to see that he had closed the book and put it to the side—ready to listen. She closed her eyes and took a chance, telling him what she wanted to say and not stuttering, as with every breath of silence she knew he could have the chance to interrupt her.

"I know we're supposed to be finding out where all those other mini prisons are, but when I was walking earlier, I had an idea of where Luna might be. I mean, it's a hunch but a big hunch and I don't know if I'm right, so I don't know if it would be worth our time when we could potentially be freeing other muggleborns but-"

"Monroe?"

Isobel opened her eyes to Fred staring at her. "Yeah?"

"Get to the point."

Flustered, she did indeed make sure to get to the point. 

"I don't think they would keep Luna in a place like that," she told him. "There were way too many people, and you saw how easily we broke them out. They wouldn't risk putting her somewhere like that when she was being used as a bargaining chip."

"I see," he said, and to her delight, he looked to be thinking about it, "so if not there, where do you think she is?"

"Malfoy Manor," Isobel answered, "Draco will see her as a possession and want to keep her close. I've always had a little suspicion that she was there but didn't want it to be true."

"Yeah, Malfoy would be that sadistic," Fred commented bitterly out of the side of his mouth. He then shifted in his position and crossed his arms, now posing a question back to her. "So why did you need to tell me that in private? I'm sure the others would agree with you."

She had hoped he wouldn't want to ask that question. Isobel slightly shrunk inside herself as she told him the truth, lowering her voice so no unexpected listeners could hear.

"Because you're the one who makes the plans," she whispered, "and out of everyone, you're the one who's willing to take risks. Charlie won't agree to barge in there if he knows Draco will be there, and we can get George on our side if we have a solid plan. But we can only get one of those if you help me work out how to get in there, and we have the perfect chance for us to do so. The Halloween Party they throw every year."

"Was that a compliment in there?" Fred asked, chuckling to himself. "Wow, you are desperate."

"Don't get a big head about it," Isobel muttered. She dismissed him quickly but knew she might have to give credit where credit was due if she wanted to have him on her side. It was killing her inside that it had come to this. "You're my best chance at convincing the others. So...will you help me devise the plan for getting into the party?"

Fred started to smirk, and she knew she had fallen into a trap. Everything about him and their relationship had come with a price.

"Wow, Monroe, you flatter me," he said as he leaned forward with his hands together in his lap, "but I'm going to need to hear you say it."

"Say what?" she asked. A million terrible things he could ask her ran through her mind like a Rolodex. 

Fred swung his legs towards the floor and stood up, strolling around the bed towards her. "This whole little thing, you can sum it up in one sentence. Say it."

"I don't know what you mean," Isobel replied innocently.

Fred stepped into her personal space, so much so that he might as well have stood on her toes, holding her down. She noticed he had liked to get this close to her recently, for a reason she guessed was probably to do with intimidation.

"Say that you need me," he spoke down to her, his chin cockily held high with the smirk still plastered on his face.

He was delusional. Though she couldn't say that she hated him anymore, there was no chance Isobel would ever say that to him. The old Weasley she knew was shining out of the new exterior she had come to know, and so she looked up at him and took on the courage she always had with him, pretending she suddenly didn't feel a little bit shaky when their eyes met now.

"I will never say that," she told him.

Fred pouted and shrugged his shoulders. "Then fine, I'll stay out of it and not tell you my plan."

"Fred, this isn't time to be petty," Isobel huffed. "Just help me. For Luna's sake, remember?"

His head tilted down, and Isobel once again felt the same transfixion she felt at Pansy's club. "Stop being stubborn and say it," he said, and he playfully touched her arm with his. "Come on, Monroe, say something nice to me for once; it won't kill you."

Kill her? It was more like destroying the values she had lived by for the last 7 years.

"No," she refused, ignoring the tingling feeling on her arm to continue standing up to him. "Because I don't need you."

"Then why are you begging me for help instead of asking your boyfriend?" Fred asked quickly. It rolled off his tongue like he had been waiting to say it.

"He's not my boyfriend," Isobel replied. This wasn't to diminish anything; it was a fact that she and Charlie just hadn't had that conversation yet. 

Fred's eyes squinted, and they glinted with joy. "Does he know that?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, is it?"

"I just think it's funny how you're brutally honest with me but can't be with him," said Fred, "Does he not make you feel comfortable enough to speak your mind?"

"More like you make me feel more enraged," Isobel replied, "stop throwing me off track. Can you help me make a plan to get into Malfoy Manor or not?"

"Not until you admit that you need my help," Fred told her.

He was simply infuriating. She had come to him for help and tried to win him over by being nice, but he still wanted more from her. It was all about making her beg.

"Fine," she snapped, "I can do it on my own, have fun spending another miserable day alone."

She walked out of the bedroom and headed towards the kitchen, feeling the itching need to make something strong, whether caffeine- or alcohol-based. She searched through the cupboards, but all she could find was some orange squash in the corner of one. She poured a drop into a mug, thinking they needed to go shopping again soon.

"Bloody stupid," she muttered angrily to herself as she turned on the kitchen taps to add water to her drink. "What were you thinking asking him for bloody help?"

"Be careful. You're starting to sound like us," said Fred from behind. The chuckle in his voice was no longer mocking but more apologetic.

Isobel turned the tap off, and the last bit of water started to dribble down the spout.

"Then I truly have lost the plot," she replied cuttingly.

"Look, I'm sorry, I won't ask you to beg me," said Fred. Isobel almost didn't hear the rest of his sentence because she felt faint after hearing the words "I'm sorry" fall out of his mouth, but she did hear the fidgeting of him pulling at the collar of his woollen jumper. "In all honesty...I've been thinking the same too. For him to dangle Luna over you like that, he must have her close."

Now that he was speaking normally to her, she decided she would return to conversing with him.

"So what do you have in mind?" she asked, turning around to face him, "They'll know to detect polyjuice potion. They're not stupid."

"It's a masked ball, right?" Fred asked.

Isobel nodded.

"Then we walk straight through the door," he suggested brightly, "best place to sneak into somewhere is when everyone's wearing disguises."

"The front door?" Isobel asked him, thinking that they would be recognisable enough to be turned away even with disguises. "It's suicide."

"Monroe, you called on my help for a reason," said Fred. "Despite what you think I am, I'm not an idiot. They'll check for invitations at the front door, which we don't have. We'll sneak in from the back, and once we deal with security, we'll blend in with the party."

It had worked, she had gotten Fred on the side, and she was weirdly relieved. No matter what horrible or cunning plan he had to deal with the security, she didn't care. Everything Fred had suggested had worked so far, so she was betting on his lucky run continuing.

"Then that's sorted, we go there next," said Isobel, and she leant against the sink and cheers'ed her mug to him, "maybe your disguise could be a guy who isn't an arrogant dickhead."

Fred took the blow well, as she could tell from his sudden light tone that he felt bad for what he had said to her. But that didn't mean he wouldn't give her as good as she gave.

"And yours could be a girl who's honest with her boyfriend about maybe having second thoughts about their compatibility," said Fred with a fake, exaggerated grin.

Isobel gave him a cutting look, and he pouted sarcastically. "Unless there's another reason you haven't made it official yet?"

Fred's banter had become more enticing the longer she had been around it. Every comment he made just made her want to respond with something cleverer and wittier, and it had become a goal to beat him. She still found it annoying, but now she had begun to actually feel satisfaction in participating in it.

"You can try and twist my words however you want but at least I'll have a date," she said confidently. "Let's not forget, no matter what...you'll still be walking in alone."

His face fell slightly as his reality hit home, and Isobel could walk away knowing that she had won. She had noticed a few things these past couple of weeks, and one of them was that times seemed to have changed - Fred Weasley hadn't spoken about a single girl in weeks nor received a letter from anyone. He was excruciatingly single, and for the first time, Isobel had a more active love life than he did.

Chapter Text

"Why do I have to wear this?" Isobel complained, "It looks like two ravens have fought to the death, and this is the result."

"You're a Ravenclaw. Aren't you drawn to them?" George asked jokingly as he slid his arms into a dark emerald suit jacket.

Isobel raised an eyebrow. "You're a Gryffindor. Are you drawn to shoving your head inside a lion's cage?"

"You have to wear this because it was who we were able to kidnap Monroe," Fred told her, sticking his head out from behind a tree as he fitted his trousers, "Unless you would have preferred the rags of the house elves that are cooking dinner?"

The four of them were hidden in the forest outside of Malfoy Manor, changing into the outfits Fred and George had been able to get for them. They had staked out the gate to the garden earlier in the night and, when it got dark, kidnapped four guests who came outside for some fresh air. 

After exchanging clothes, Fred and George gave them a sleeping potion and tied them to a nearby tree.

"It's ridiculous that they're still using house elves," Isobel said, ignoring Fred's comment and zipping up the black feathered dress she had been given. "I wonder if the ones I met are still alive."

"Probably not if they're treated the same way Dobby was," said George, "poor fella. He was so happy to see the back of that place."

"I know. He loved the clothes Luna and I made for him," Isobel smiled. "You would've thought his dream was to work in the Hogwarts kitchens for minimum wage."

Fred reappeared from the tree he was behind just as Charlie groaned in the distance from falling over, having had trouble buckling up his braces.

"Hold on," he said, "how did you know Dobby?"

"I met him through Luna," Isobel replied, standing straight. "I became quite fond of him. You know, he was someone to talk to, someone who wasn't a student."

"But if he knew you, why did he never tell Harry anything you did under Umbridge?" Fred asked, "If he had found stuff out from you, he would never keep it a secret from him if he knew harm was coming his way."

Fred was calling her out as a liar, or maybe he was just curious, so it was time to tell them all a secret that would shut him up about the topic.

"Because, duh, I'm not stupid. I knew he would run and tell Harry every little thing I said, so I was careful with what I told him," she explained, "there was only one exception to that rule, which was when he and I discovered the most fascinating room in the whole of Hogwarts castle. I could've erased his mind; Draco had taught me the spell for that, but I didn't. I owed Luna a favour and wanted to keep her safe, even if it meant helping Harry Potter and the rest of you with your illegal activities. So I let him run to Harry and tell him about it."

"You don't mean..." George started to say.

"Yep, I'm why you found the Room of Requirement," she answered.

She studied their expression at finding this out about her, and she found it quite amusing. They were slowly realising she wasn't as awful as they had made her out to be.

"But how did you find it?" Fred asked.

"As you all know, my fifth year at Hogwarts did not start well," Isobel replied, embarrassed at this fact, "I had been trying to hold myself together, but one day during class, I couldn't contain it anymore. I was about to cry after thinking about Cedric for too long, so I excused myself from class and ran for it. Dobby had seen me running, so he came to join me, and we searched for an empty room, but they were all taken up by classes. Eventually, an open door came up, and I ran into it. Only once Dobby had comforted me back to normal did I realise I had never seen that room before. Didn't take a brainiac to realise it was special."

"But why not keep it for yourselves?" Fred asked, "use it as the base for the Inquisitorial Squad?"

"As I said, I owed Luna a favour," Isobel replied. "She cared about you all, so for the time being, I kept my mouth shut and let your 'Dumbledore's Army' walk around in secret."

"So you knew?" asked George, "that whole time... you knew we were in there?"

"Of course I knew," Isobel laughed, "and you were lucky I did. I ensured the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad could only punish you for the crimes you committed in the daylight. Otherwise, you would've been caught far earlier than you were."

Fred frowned at her. She thought he might be thinking, but she wouldn't dare guess what would be going through his mind. That was territory she would never want to enter into. 

"Alright then," said Charlie as he bounded out of the bushes. "Should we get going?"

Isobel was somewhat disappointed in his attire. He had been given a rather expensive black suit with gold buttons on the lapel and a row of medals on the pocket. If it weren't for his long Auburn hair tied halfway up in a ponytail, she would completely forget that he wasn't from the highest aristocracy.

"We just have to wait for an opening," said Fred, pulling out four leather-bound invitations with the trademark Malfoy crested melted onto them in wax. "Luckily, they still had these on them. Each of us has to take one of these in case we get caught."

As Isobel watched him hand out the invitations, she admired his outfit and thought Charlie would have looked better if he had worn that instead. Fred was wearing a simple velvet suit that matched the colour of sapphires, it's delicate gold lining made it fancy without being boastful of wealth and the blue complimented his Weasley hair perfectly in the moonlight. She safely praised him in her head, but didn't say a word out loud.

He looked...different.

"George will be Mr Devereux," said Fred as he handed his brother the invitation, "Charlie, you will be Mr Mikaelson, I will be Mr Forbes, and Monroe, you will be Mrs Mikaelson."

"The sister, I presume?" Charlie asked, his tone unamused. He guessed this was another fun way Fred had set him and Isobel up.

"No, the wife," Fred answered plainly, "I thought she'd rather be paired up with you than have to play happy families with either of us."

In all honesty, Isobel wouldn't have minded. All she cared about was finding Luna. Ever since they arrived, she had felt so close to her. She even wore the butterfly clip Luna had given her the night of the wedding, hoping it would somehow help her.

"Mr Devereux," George said braggingly, "I like it. Posh. Should we go then?"

"Oh, sorry, one more thing," said Fred, "masked ball, remember?"

He ran behind the bush where they had stored their regular clothes and came out carrying four varyingly detailed face masks. As per the original owners, whose rich tastes ensured everything had to match, it was easy to determine which belonged to which outfit.

"Thanks," said George, taking a dark green metal mask with a beak like a bird.

"Minimal," said Charlie, responding to his basic black mask covering only the eyes.

"And I get to play phantom," Fred chuckled as he showed the three of them his shiny covered blue mask that hid half the face away. "And again, Monroe, I'm afraid yours has a touch of the dramatics..."

Fred handed Isobel a black netted mask with a beautiful arrangement of black fathers sticking out of one side, spread like a fan.

"How do I even get this on without poking myself in the eye?" Isobel laughed.

"I think we're all going to struggle," said Charlie, who had already placed his mask up to his face, "could you tie me George, at the back?"

As Charlie's mask had ribbon, George walked behind him and started pulling it tight behind his head. Due to his thick hair, he began to find it quite difficult to tie without catching strands in it.

"I can help if you like," Fred told Isobel, "to save time."

Isobel was hesitant, but she accepted his offer, placing the mask on her eyes and leaving the loose strings hanging for Fred to pick up.

"You can do it over my hair. You don't have to bother about moving it," she said as he stepped behind her.

"No, that would ruin the effect," he said. "You're telling me anyone attending this party would arrive looking less than perfect? Come on, Monroe; you know better than that."

He lifted her dark curls gently and tied the black string at the back behind her head. As he did so, she stood still, feeling extremely sensitive to his presence. Her senses heightened as he leaned in closer to see better in the dark and felt his breath on her neck.

"Have you been reading your books today by any chance?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Isobel answered, "I wanted to ensure I was prepared. Why?"

"I can smell it on you," he chuckled. "It's like standing in a library."

"There are worst things to smell like," Isobel retorted as she became slightly offended.

"Yeah, like the perfume Pansy gave you," Fred replied, "glad you got rid of that abomination."

"Didn't realise you paid much attention to my perfume of choice."

"Well, let's just say I prefer this over you smelling like a high-class prostitute any time."

Fred tied a secure knot and came round to face to study his work.

"Did you just call me a whore?" she asked, insulted at his choice of words.

His eyes narrowed, and he reached forward to the corner of the mask, adjusted it so that it aligned with the curves of her face, and then it fell into place.

"No, I said you smelt like one," he said, "there's a difference."

"Yes, that's right. Besides, I'm a frigid virgin anyway, remember?" she replied with a hint of resentment.

Fred's face fell straight and regretful. He fidgeted with her mask still so that he could focus on something, his eyes softening to a stare she didn't recognise. "I should never have said that," he said. "I'm sorry."

There was no joke, no humourful tone, but Isobel still kept waiting for the punchline. "Is that an apology?" she asked drearily, expecting something else to come.

"It's an acknowledgement that I may have judged too quickly," he said. His finger lingered on her cheek for a moment. "Can you say you've never done the same?"

Isobel stared at him, her tongue-tied as she tried to come up with a witty answer but couldn't. Fred looked at her differently, as if she weren't a person about whom he had felt horrible things, and it made her ponder his question with more sincerity.

He had just admitted regret...something she never thought he would say.

"Right," George clapped his hands together after successfully fitting Charlie's mask and his own. "Now we all look devilishly gorgeous and mysterious; all we need is to take the pills."

Isobel stood there, her eyes lowering to the ground as Fred walked away from her.

"Pills?" Charlie asked, "Are you serious? We can't do a rescue mission on drugs!"

"You always think the worst of us, brother," George sighed, shaking his head. He pulled out four purple circular pills from his pocket. "Temporary hair colour pills. We designed this for students to try out new styles before they made the commitment."

"Luna could've done with those a couple of years ago," Isobel laughed sadly as a memory drew her away from thinking about what Fred had said, "do you remember when her hair was bright green?"

"Yeah," said George, "made it easy to find her in a crowd, though, didn't it?"

They all took the pills, and their hair was transformed in minutes—Isobels' from brunette to the brightest platinum blonde, and the Weasleys' from ginger to the darkest brown—except for Charlie, who went black. Isobel thought they all rather suited it.

"Right, let's do this. For Luna," said Isobel.

"For Luna," the three Weasley's replied.

***

As they walked into Malfoy Manor, Isobel soon remembered what she had liked about the place. It was a house ripped out of the Gothic style from England's early centuries, with its high ceilings, pointed archways and stained glass windows. The house was reminiscent of Hogwarts at times, but the way to distinguish between them was that Hogwarts was built in sand-coloured stone that brought lightness in, whereas Malfoy Manor on the other hand - was built entirely in gloomish grey. The hallways were decorated with carefully placed portraits from the Malfoy heritage, interrupted by sizeable black blackout velvet curtains, and large bouquets of thorned white roses sat in vases made of stainless steel. Everything was detailed to present only the finest elegance, which became clearer once they reached the grand ballroom.

The pride and joy of Malfoy Manor, the Ballroom boasted an intricate marble floor decorated with pumpkins and floating candles that preserved the night's Halloween theme. Around two hundred guests were dancing as a group under a rounded glass ceiling, all hidden under glorious masks that hid their true selves, and the dim lighting only added to the mystery of who they all were. As the orchestra played a hauntingly familiar tune, Isobel faintly recognised the dance from before.

"Are they all cursed, or do they just all want to prance around like stupid idiots?" George asked as they entered the ballroom undetected.

"It's a traditional dance," Isobel explained. "It's a social thing; everyone takes turns switching partners."

"Sounds like another kind of party," Fred sniggered.

"I think it's nice," said Isobel, "reminds me of an older time...where men had manners."

Her eyes narrowed down on him sassily.

"Yeah, and domestic abuse was the norm," Fred replied, "come on Monroe, all this stuff, it's all lies of supposed romance and class. They're all happily laughing with each other, getting merry whilst muggleborns are wasting away in prisons. It's sickening."

"I like it," said Charlie, whose eyes were scanning the room, "I agree, it's romantic, and it wouldn't hurt you to dabble in that arena brother. Learn a bit about what chivalry is about."

Fred very clearly did not appreciate this comment, and he strained himself from reacting physically to avoid drawing attention. "Once you save a girl from Death Eaters, a burning building, and from becoming a murderer within a space of a month, then you can lecture me about chivalry," he whispered.

Isobel think he did have a point. He had saved her from all those things, not Charlie.

"Malfoy spotted," said George, nodding to the far left-hand side.

Everyone was grateful for the distraction and casually looked to where George had pointed. Across the room, all sitting on plush circular sofas that were decorated with silkworm cobwebs, sat Draco Malfoy and his friends. Draco, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson (who was unusually wearing a dress that covered up her whole body to hide what Isobel presumed were scars), Crabbe, Goyle and to Isobel's dismay...Theo Nott. A danger response bolted through Isobel's body as seeing them together reminded her of old times.

"They can't see us," said Isobel, suddenly feeling something burn at the back of her head. "We can fool everyone else but not them; they know us too well."

"Even if we don't look like ourselves?" Charlie asked.

"Oh no, come on. They're purely judgmental on appearance and class," said George, "and as we're here as 'invited' guests and don't look like us, I say we're fine."

Isobel touched her hair from the back and immediately retracted it. It had burned her, and when she looked at her fingertips, they were slightly singed with silver glitter.

"We can distract them," said Fred. All of them were oblivious to what Isobel had just done. "Maybe get some information."

"And how do you plan on doing that? You know them, they won't tell strangers anything," Isobel questioned him.

"We're not strangers, are we?" Fred smiled, pointing to the name on his invitation. "Besides, you heard Pansy back at the club. She had a bit of a thing for me—bet I could charm her into spilling something."

Isobel laughed. "She'll rip your head off before you even stutter a word."

"Wanna take that bet?" he asked.

"On a sure thing? You're on," she replied, jumping at the chance to let him make a fool of himself, "five galleons that you can't get her to tell you anything."

"Challenge accepted," Fred smiled, "get ready to pay up Monroe."

With newly found cockiness that he was going to beat Isobel once again in a game of who was right, he and George swaggered off through the pairs of dancing couples towards Draco Malfoy and his friends. Isobel had learnt by now that the twins had no sense of fear, but there was a little inkling within her that told her they may have been overly confident this time.

"I wouldn't have taken that bet," Charlie laughed as they both watched his brothers walk.

"Why not?" Isobel asked him.

"Well, surely you've seen my brothers are popular with women, no?" he said.

"I wouldn't exactly call it being popular," Isobel snorted, her concentration being on the way Fred has just placed his hand on Pansy's shoulder, to Draco's concern who was on his left, "there wasn't much to go around at Hogwarts that was worth entertaining yourself with. It was slim pickings."

"Clearly," said Charlie, "and that's why you went with that one...the gaunt-looking blonde boy who appears to have smelt several piles of Niffler dung under his nose?"

Isobel had hoped that they would have been able to do tonight without this situation arising, but unfortunately, she was left with no choice but to face it.

"Unfortunately," she told him, breaking her stare at Fred to glance disdainfully at Draco, "but the less said about him, the better. As I said, slim pickings."

"What made you attracted to him anyway?" Charlie asked, searching for any reason she would as he couldn't see it himself.

"His intelligence," Isobel replied, starting to snarl as Draco opened a bottle of wine and poured it over all of the boys' glasses. "I thought we were the same, that we understood each other. But as time told, we obviously weren't."

"Well, maybe that was your problem," said Charlie. He eyed Draco up and down, slowly comparing him to another figure to his right, who he noticed had not lost Isobel's attention. "Maybe you need someone who can be your complete opposite."

Isobel laughed, partly bemused that he would say this but also because Pansy had just slapped Fred across the face. "Opposite?" she asked, "like sounds like a nightmare."

Charlie took a breath, and Isobel could feel his eyes on her. "Yeah," he said, "total nightmare...could I ask you a question Iz? It's a little personal."

Isobel turned around to face him to see that she was not met with the same lightness as she was giving him, as Charlie's eyes had softened, and he appeared rather pensive. "It's been playing on my mind, and I feel like I just have to ask it...my brothers, did you actually hate them or was it because you actually-what is that?"

Charlie suddenly looked behind her head in complete confusion. Isobel no longer felt the burning at the back of her head, so she touched it lightly, feeling nothing. Not even Luna's clip. Nothing was holding up her hair anymore. It was all hanging loosely over her shoulders.

She turned to see what Charlie was staring at. Amazed, she saw Luna's hair clip floating mid-air, its wings flapping like a graceful bird.

"Is it alive?" Charlie asked, and then his eyes squinted suspiciously, "or...cursed?"

After the initial surprise passed over her, Isobel studied the clip, closing in on it so that any passers-by would not see it. She saw the familiar silver sparkle, and now it made sense—it was the kind Luna always used to leave on her magical designs. It was her signature, and she had created it herself.

"Oh, you clever witch," said Isobel with a smile on her face. A lightbuld went off in her head. 

"It's Luna," she told Charlie, "I think she's trying to tell me where she is!"

"She's trying to tell you with a hair clip?" Charlie asked, his expression showing that he lacked confidence in this idea.

"She's probably put a locator spell on it," said Isobel, her mouth stretching into a wide grin, "let's follow it and see where it leads."

"Are you sure? Shouldn't we wait for Fred and George to get information?" Charlie asked. He hesitated, and for a moment, Isobel was disappointed in him. She couldn't help but think that if she had been with either of his brothers when this happened, they would have gone with her without questioning it.

"I'm telling you this is Luna. She gave this to me herself when all this started happening, and I was worried," Isobel told him. "I wouldn't put it past her to do a spell like this in case anything ever happened to her. Especially when Xeno has been so outspoken, she must've known being taken was a possibility. I'm following it. Are you coming, or are you staying?"

Charlie's light blue eyes flicked as he considered what to do. For once, she saw him battle his spontaneous nature, making her wonder why now.

"Okay fine," Charlie decided, "a lead is a lead. Let's go."

As soon as Isobel and Charlie took one step towards it, the clip turned around and started flying through the air, keeping to the ceiling so guests at the party didn't see this unusual object dancing around the hallways. It was much faster than they expected, so they picked up a light jogging pace once out and away from the main party.

"Do you have any idea where she would be?" Charlie asked as they passed a second portrait of Lucius Malfoy's mother. "Do you know where it's taking us?"

"I have an idea," said Isobel, breathing heavily as her dress weighed her down as she ran. "There was always a place that was always off limits when I visited. At first, I thought it was because it was servants' quarters, but now I realise they probably didn't want me to see what was down there. If the clip goes there, then I'll have my answer."

Isobel and Charlie cautiously made their way throughout Malfoy Manor, carefully not bringing any attention to themselves or the clip as they did so. If they came across a waiter, they would say they were looking for the bathroom, and if they came across a guest, they would just smile and laugh to fill the air and leave no space for questions. Eventually, they reached a wooden door under a set of stairs from the ground floor that looked hundreds of years old and had a large iron lock. The clip stopped flying and just faced the door, flapping its wings.

They were close.

"Are you ready?" Charlie asked as they both stared at the door.

Isobel lifted her dress and slowly withdrew her wand from her heels, where she had secured it to her leg.

"Now more than ever," she replied, and with her heart starting to beat faster, she lowered her voice to a mellow whisper: "Alohamora."

The metal lock slowly slid off its hinges, and with it, the door opened, making a creaking noise that vibrated through the walls. Isobel stepped in, and Charlie followed, walking into a dark, long corridor through which light shone at equal intervals—through bars on windows.

"Cells," said Charlie as the door closed behind them. "Iz, I think your gut has been right."

Isobel began to shake as the clip raced past her and set out on another path. Even the sight of the bars made her feel uneasy and nervous, and the thought of Luna behind them—well, it would be something she would have to face.

"She has to be here," she said.

They began walking, checking every cold, bricked cell for a sign of life. There was no one. They were all empty. The only occupants were a pile of sawdust and the occasional mouse. Many of them appeared to have been unoccupied for a long time.

In the distance, the clip stopped and faced a cell on the right. Isobel and Charlie raced to it, both of them holding their breath in the hope that the clip had been the key to finding-

"Luna!"

As she approached the cell, Isobel gasped and saw a girl lying down against the wall, her long blond hair matted and unwashed.

It was Luna. There was no doubt about it. She was even in the same dress she had been in at the Wedding. It had been late summer then, and now the seasons had turned to autumn. It wasn't enough material to keep her warm. She was as pale as snow and shivering in her sleep.

"Luna!" Isobel called, ripping off her mask immediately, "Luna, it's me, Isobel."

Luna weakly lifted her head as she became conscious.

"Isobel?" She asked meekly.

"Yeah, Luna, it's me."

Isobel crawled down to her knees to be more on Luna's level. Luna managed to roll herself up and turn her head. Her face was drawn, with scratches and heavy bags, but her eyes had not lost their sparkle.

"You came for me," she smiled.

"Are you joking? Of course I was going to," said Isobel. She could barely believe she was seeing her, but she felt an unwavering sense of joy.

Luna slowly shuffled over to the bars. "I knew my clip would bring you to me," she said, "I enchanted it. The range didn't stretch far, but if you got close enough, you could find me."

"You are one clever witch," Isobel smiled, and a tear fell onto her cheek. "How are you? Are you hurt?"

"Only a few scratches and cuts," Luna replied, their faces only inches away, "but I'm pure blood, so they couldn't do much. Especially as Lucius drew the line at harming family."

"Family?" asked Charlie, who now had to join in the conversation and bent down to talk to Luna. "You're telling me your relatives did this to you?"

"Who's this?" Luna asked as she receded backwards.

"Oh right, yes, Luna. This is Charlie Weasley from the Weasley family," Isobel said as she introduced them both. "Charlie, this is Luna. Luna is cousins with Draco on her mother's side."

"And you never thought to mention that?" He asked.

"It's not like they ever act like family," Isobel retorted, and Luna nodded in agreement, "Draco pretty much ignored her at school, and I'm the only one Luna told. Besides, as you can see, that fact didn't change anything."

"It's true," said Luna, "nice to meet you, Charlie. Any friend of Isobel's is a friend of mine, especially a Weasley brother. Though where is your ginger hair?"

Charlie took off his mask to reveal his handsome face. He stuck his hand through the bars for Luna to shake, and flashed the charming smile that had won Isobel over. "Little disguise to get us in here," he told her with a wink. "Don't worry; I usually have a thick mane of red hair on top of me."

Luna was happy with his response and shook his hand, but only by touching his fingertips, doing it her unique way. Isobel could've almost burst into tears right there.

She finally had her best friend back.

"Where's Xeno?" Isobel asked, looking around. "We need to break him out, too."

Luna's face went grave. "I haven't seen him since the day of the wedding," she said. "I think he's been sent to that place—the one they all talk about."

"Semperess?" Charlie asked.

Luna nodded.

"That bastard," Isobel spat, glancing at Charlie. "Well, okay, we're going to get you out anyway. Step back. We've got to work out how to get you out of this thing."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen."

Isobel and Charlie followed the sound of the voice and snapped their heads towards the entrance door. To their horror, Draco Malfoy was standing there, blocking the exit, smiling as Crabbe and Goyle stood behind each of his shoulders.

"If it isn't two missing guests who have taken the wrong turn," he said. With his hands in his trouser pockets, he slowly walked forward, and Charlie instinctively leaned in front of Isobel.

 "Honestly, Monroe," Draco sighed, "I expected better of you than this."

"Let's be reasonable here," said Charlie, stepping forward to put himself between them. "Just let Luna go, and we'll leave quietly. We don't want to cause any trouble."

Draco pouted sarcastically to mock him. "You know I'm not going to do that," he told him, "boys, if you please."

Crabbe and Goyle barged forward, and despite their best efforts to defend themselves with their wands, their strength was too much, and they overpowered Isobel and Charlie. Goyle grabbed Isobel by her arms, and Crabbe controlled Charlie by his only weakness, his hair. He held it tight and used it to push him to his knees.

"For Merlin's sake, Draco," Isobel huffed, "do you always have to solve things with violence?"

"I've tried reasoning with you, Monroe, and that didn't work," said Draco lowly, his grey eyes piercing across at her, "don't you remember? I gave you a choice. And this is how you choose to repay me, by breaking into my home and stealing from my famly. A punishment's is the only thing that gets through to you - that I remember."

Charlie let out a snorted laugh from the floor. He was unafraid of Draco, which Isobel thought was naive, but Luna smiled at his bravery.

"Have something to say, Weasley?" Draco asked, staring down at him like dirt on his shoe, "Oh yes, I can spot you lot a mile off. You may not have your red hair, but you still have the same reckless sense of cockiness...is something funny?"

"Yeah," Charlie laughed, "Merlin's beard Iz. You dated this guy?"

Isobel didn't laugh with him but instead tried to get him quiet. Draco was not the one to rile up; he was reckless, and he hated being mocked. She knew it led him down a dark path.

"Charlie-"

"Like seriously, he's the ex?" Charlie continued, now laughing directly into Draco's face. "What were you drunk the whole time?"

"Charlie, stop."

Isobel knew what he was doing; he was trying to intimidate and make him back down, but that wouldn't work here.

"What? What's he going to do?" Charlie scoffed at her, and then he nodded to Draco, "he's a coward just like his dear old pathetic dad. If he actually could kill us, he would've done so already-"

"Crucio!"

A red bolt of light flew out of the tip of Draco's wand and hit Charlie in the centre of his chest. Like a bolt of electricity, it spread sporadically through his body, causing it to jolt.

"No!" Isobel shouted.

Immediately, Charlie spazzed out of control, abruptly cutting the smile off his face. He was shaking so uncontrollably that Crabbe could not hold him in place for long, and soon enough, he gave in, dropping Charlie to the floor in pain. Draco stared down at him with his wand pointed, his eyes glistening with enjoyment as he continued giving him the Crucio curse.

"Stop it!" Isobel desperately pleaded, "It's me you want; he's done nothing to you. If you're going to torture anyone, do it to me!"

Draco glanced at her and relinquished his fun, lowering his wand and stopping any more harm from coming to Charlie's now flat-lying body. He curled up in the fetal position, grunting in agony, and to Isobel's dispair - his eyes began to close as he fell asleep and drifted out of consciousness.

"Finally, some peace and quiet," said Draco, smirking as he played with his wand through his fingers. "You have a couple of minutes until he wakes up Monroe, which is how long you have my attention. It would be wise to start with an apology. It's worth your life."

"You won't kill me," said Isobel, who could not take her eyes off of Charlie's body, "he's right, you don't have it in you. But you can keep me, let them go, and keep me. Just don't hurt him."

She thought of Luna, who was watching all of this through the bars of her cell and shaking her head. Though Isobel didn't like the idea of being imprisoned in Malfoy Manor, at least if they swapped, Luna would be with the Weasleys, and she would be safe. They wouldn't have a muggle-born anymore, and therefore, they could be free to find Xeno without a liability.

She knew the twins would understand, and Fred would probably encourage it.

"Oh, don't tell me," said Draco, laughing mockingly as if he had just heard a hilarious joke. "You don't care for him, do you?"

He then let out a maniacal cackle, and Crabbe and Goyle started chuckling with him.

"I get Luna...but, but him?" said Draco, and he tapped Charlie's shoulder with his foot, causing Isobel to lunge forward in a failed attempt to stop him. "He's a Weasley. Surely you have better taste...I thought you liked a man with brains."

"I like men who are kind, who care about other people," Isobel spat, angry that he had dared touch Charlie in such a way. "I learnt my lesson after being with you. Brains aren't everything; you have to have a heart, too."

"Oh yes, the Weasleys are so full of heart, bloody brave hearts the lot of them," said Draco sarcastically, and he looked to Goyle to share the joke, "well I see now why our deal went sideways; they've brainwashed you. Their saviour complex is like cat nip to muggleborns...just look at Granger."

"I don't need saving," Isobel stated through gritted teeth, "and for your information, I didn't agree to the deal because I wouldn't lower myself to your standards. Let's be honest, Draco, none of your plans ever work. We both know how Snape ended up killing Dumbledore, don't we?"

She knew her words would hurt her cause, but she couldn't help it. He had broken her by attacking people she cared about, and it wasn't the first time.

Draco lept at her and stuck his wand to her neck, his eyes burning in fury after being humiliated by his biggest failure. "You can say all you want," he threatened her as her skin became bumped in fear, "but you will always be the biggest loser here Monroe, not me. It's in your blood, your need to be the smartest in the room, and in your emotions - which led you to me in the first place. I gave you a place. You forget where that is."

"And you forget yours, ferret face."

Isobel's heart skipped a beat when Draco stepped out of the way. She could see that Fred and George had just run through the door, masks off and wands out. Deep down, she knew she couldn't take Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle out alone, so their arrival relieved her greatly. 

"Get away from her," said Fred, his wand aimed directly at Draco. 

"How did you find us?" Isobel asked them.

"You molted," George answered, "we followed the feathers on your dress." 

Then his eyeline was drawn to the stone floor. "What happened to Charlie?"

Isobel was scared to tell them this, mainly because she wouldn't know what would happen after she did, but after what Draco had done, she almost didn't care. "He crucio'd him," she replied.

"Shut up!" Draco demanded, and he waved his wand sharply in Isobel's direction.

The next thing she knew, Isobel couldn't talk anymore—as in, she physically couldn't. Her lips were sealed shut with an invisible piece of tape. She panicked as she tried to move them to make any sound that wasn't a muffled mess, but it was to no avail.

"You never did know when to be quiet," he huffed.

George stepped forward to attack Draco in response, but Fred held him back, keeping a calmer posture. "You little-"

"Did you really think I would be so blissfully ignorant as not to notice two strangers suddenly take an interest in me and my friends?" Draco asked them, nonchalantly walking towards them as if he had done nothing wrong. "Let alone ones who enquire about hiding places? You two led me to check out the dungeon after your intense questioning, and well, I'm thankful you did...I never would have found these two otherwise."

"Fred, George, is that you?" Luna asked meekly through the bars as she gained enough strength to look at them. "I recognise your voice."

"Luna!" said George. He hadn't noticed her until now and he raced to her side to kneel against the bars. "You're here!"

"Are you okay?" Fred asked. As he knelt to join his brother, he briefly glanced at Isobel to almost ask her the same question: "Have they hurt you?"

"Not in any way that matters," Luna replied, dismissing her own circumstance to take joy in seeing her friends. "You look fantastic in those robes, but I hope the hair colour isn't permanent. I've always liked the wildness of your hair. It reminds me of November fires."

"We're going right back, I promise," said George. "Brunette is far too serious for us."

"Besides, redheads always have more fun," Fred grinned.

Despite the anger they must be feeling, Isobel was amazed at how well they appeared happy towards Luna and surprised that the twins could handle that much emotional capability.

"If we could save the vomit-inducing catch-up for later," said Draco in a bored tone, "Monroe and I were talking before you so rudely interrupted us."

"Oh yeah, sorry, I'm sure it was fascinating," said George, "but we're kind of on a tight schedule, so if you don't mind, we're all going to take off and leave, Luna included."

Draco laughed darkly. "None of you are going anywhere."

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy," said Fred. "We all know you can't fight both of us by yourself. You'd need to let them go to have your backup free, and if that's the case, all five of us would have you surrounded."

"Well then, I see as though I have no choice," said Malfoy, "I shall surrender a fight."

"What?" George asked. Surprised at his change of heart.

In fact, everyone in the room, including Crabbe and Goyle, were all confused about what Draco would say next.

"No, no," said Draco, in a tone that projected fairness but had a sinister undertone. "You are free to go, and you're free to take Lovegood as well."

"What's the catch?" Fred asked suspiciously, "There's always a catch with you."

"No you're right, I'd need to let them go to fight you and...I don't want to do that," said Draco, "Monroe has been on my want list for a while now; she may be a mudblood, but her brains would be useful in the camps, and well, I do need someone to attract Potter...I'd say a Weasley is much more attractive for that than a Lovegood."

"You're not keeping anybody," said Fred, "but if you do, take us. If you think you could beat us in a fight, then come on, do it, act like the man you pretend you are. We're closer to Harry and Ron, they'd rush to come save us."

"Like they came to you after news spread of your shop burning down?" Draco asked, and his snarl expressed his delight as George's jaw tightened. "I'm afraid that showed me your brother doesn't care about you as much as I thought he did. You're not valuable to me anymore."

"That's not true," said George. "I promise. Let them all go and keep us; Harry, Ron and Hermione will come."

Isobel was in awe in how willing they were to give themselves up.

"Hmmmm, well, as you asked so nicely... no," said Draco, enjoying the tease. "You're not any use to me anymore, but your brother is. The Dark Lord is collecting many creatures, and he's been looking for someone experienced to tame them, someone we can control to stay quiet. He'll make an excellent addition to the Malfoy workforce, don't you think?"

"You stay away from him!" Isobel tried to say it, but it came out in muffles, and as she tried to struggle out of Goyle's hands, she was forced back into place.

Fred stepped forward in defence, presumably getting what she was trying to say. "If you touch one hair on his head Malfoy, I will-"

"Oh, you want your brother unharmed?" said Draco, cutting him off. A horrifically evil idea had come to him. "Okay, Weasley, then let's make a deal. Pick one. Either your brother comes and works for us, tending to the creatures for our needs, or Monroe comes with me for a little reconnecting time before being shipped off to Semperess. "

Draco loved any bet or game, especially when he was almost guaranteed victory. It was his way of humiliation, and even though that would mean he would have to let one of them go - seeing the Weasley's struggle to make a difficult choice gave him all the satisfaction he needed.

"You're a right sicko, you know that?" Fred said to him, his cheeks harshening as his hate for Draco reached boiling point.

Draco smirked, proud of the hurt he was causing. "Tick Tock Weasley, I'm disappointed. It should be an easy choice, no? Considering one's blood and the other is someone you've despised since she gave you that scar. I'm confused as to why an answer didn't just roll off your tongue."

From Goyle's grip, Isobel looked down at Fred's hand and couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. There, on his pale skin, she saw the faded remains of a punishment she had given him under Umbridges rule.

"I would rather keep her safe and despise her for a lifetime than let her spend one more moment with you," Fred replied dangerously, his voice twisting as he stepped forward, "let them all go, or you'll be wishing you only got away with a scar by the time I'm through with you."

Isobel stared at Fred. She had never seen him this serious before. It almost scared her, but she felt a rush of adrenaline at the fact that he was standing up from her. He was more than willing to fight if it meant saving his brother and, more surprisingly, her too.

"I still don't hear an answer," Draco sang.

"And you won't hear one; we're leaving with both of them," said George. In a gesture of support, he stood side by side with his brother.

"Oh Tweedledum, you must have misunderstood me," said Draco, talking down to George in elongated vowels like he was a child, "I'm taking a gift to the Dark Lord. That's non-negotiable. And if you try to run, I will take them anyway and kill you both."

Isobel looked at Fred as he looked down at her. Draco had already shown tonight that he was willing to commit horrendous spells that none of them would be willing to use. It was more probable now than ever that he was prepared to kill, so the threat was real. With her glance she tried to communicate to him that it was okay, they needed to pick Charlie. She would be fine.

"Im fnghh," said Isobel as she tried to speak through the curse put upon her.

"Oh, sorry, Monroe. Are you trying to say something?" Draco asked her, "Something got your tongue?"

Isobel glared at him and shook some more with all of her energy to break free. If Fred or George weren't going to hit him first, she was going to.

Draco smiled at her struggle and sighed, returning his wand to her. "Oh, okay, go on then. We all know you have an insufferable impulse to speak. I don't want you to hurt yourself; it'll take away from the guards job at the camp."

As he lifted the curse, Isobel breathed deeply. Her lips felt a slight tingle, but other than that, she didn't feel any pain. "Guys, I'll be fine," she told them as soon she could, attempting to free Fred and George of any guilt, "I'd rather you take Luna, and besides, he's not worth it. I'm not going to stand here and watch you kill him or yourselves for me. Take Charlie back home to your family and be safe."

"Yeah, listen to the girl," said Draco, and to Isobels's disgust, he put his arm around her shoulders. His cold, slimy hands felt natural on her skin. "I'll take good care of her. She'll be fine."

"I'm sorry Iz," said George, raising his wand.

"But we are going to kill him," said Fred, who appeared to be waiting for the right moment, "he's taken too much from us to get out of this. Draco, make no mistake, I will kill you if you don't let them go."

His moral highground that he had battled with Charlie over had completely vanished. Fred stood there a man who wanted to fight for his brother no matter what he had to do. They had found the one thing he would kill for, his family.

Draco grinned with overconfidence and stepped forward towards Fred. "You don't have the guts."

Fred stepped forward too, cementing his claim and proving he was serious. "I will kill anyone who comes between me and the people I care about."

"Oh, so you've made your choice?" Draco asked happily, and he pointed his wand towards Isobel's neck.

"There are many ways to care about care about someone," said George, "which I know might be difficult for you to understand. But right now, we care about getting an innocent muggle born away from the clutches of a coward who would hurt her for no reasons other than revenge or prejudice."

Fred laughed darkly, and Draco's grin twitched out of hesitation. "Besides, it's your life. The only reason Pansy Parkinson is still alive and kicking is because I stopped that one from pushing her off a building. She'd annihilate you in seconds if she got the chance."

Isobel gave him a hidden smile at this compliment. She would have understood if they had picked Charlie over her; in fact, she had encouraged it, but she never would've thought that they would've risked that to save her too.

"You have ten seconds," said Draco, not amused. He was used to running things in his group, but the Weasleys wouldn't do anything his way. "If you do not take your pick, I will ship you all off to Semperess right now without a second thought. Ten...Nine...Eight-"

"Crucio!"

Fred could no longer hold back his anger. Before thinking better of it, he launched the spell right in Draco's direction, the red bolts hitting him in the stomach. It took Draco back, but he didn't crumple to the floor shaking like Charlie had done. The thing about the Crucio curse was that you had to mean it entirely and want to cause harm with utter certainty and confidence, and though Fred had the intent, it was clear that he had never tried to spell before and was, therefore, hesitant in his command - making the curse weak. It wasn't useless though, as Draco stumbled so far back that he hit the back wall and knocked himself out.

George took Crabbe and Goyle out, who were much easier to eliminate as their reactions were slower than his. They were too concerned with Draco to notice the white sparks shooting out of his wand while casting Depulso, and they were lifted up in the air and thrown back down within the time it took them to blink.

"They should be lucky that's all they're getting," said Fred as he rushed over to Isobel and placed his hands on her shoulders. "We have to run okay. You go first and run back to the forest. I'll pick up Charlie and take him."

"Not without Luna," she replied, "I'm not leaving without Luna."

"We'll get her out."

"No, I'm not leaving until I see her free."

"Right," said George, who was starting to panic but managed to keep a cool head enough to think. He pointed his wand towards the bars of Luna's cell. "Luna, get back quick! Bombarda!"

The pipes of Luna's cell exploded, and they all ducked so as not to get hit by the flying pieces of heavy metal, including Luna, who crawled to the back of the space. Alongside the rubble, the stones surrounding the bars had also exploded, and a thick dust filled air. Isobel ran in after Luna and covered her nose with her forearm to stop herself from breathing in the air. She tried to search around through the sand-coloured mist.

"Luna, where are you? I can't see you!" she said, choking as soon as the dust hit her throat. "Just let me know where you are."

Her arms reached out and waved around in the darkness as her eyes could no longer open due to irritation. However, she touched nothing but emptiness and the walls of the cell.

"Luna?" Isobel asked again, "Is she out there with you guys?"

"No!" George replied, "Is she not in there with you?"

"I don't think so!"

"Aghhhhhhh!"

Isobel heard a grunt from the other end of the corridor.

"What happened?" George shouted into the dust.

"Charlie's gone!" Fred shouted back, "he turned to dust just as I was carrying him out of the door, made me fall over, that little shit did something to him!"

Charlie. Gone. Luna. Gone. Isobel barely had enough time to process this before she stormed out of the cage towards Draco, who was starting to murmur awake on the floor as the air cleared. Isobel could see his hand. His wand was held tightly in it.

Fred was right. He had done something to them.

"Iz don't," George warned her, beckoning her back. "You don't know if he'll do it to you, too."

"Yeah, let me finish him off," said Fred as he came striding back down the corridor.

"No," said Isobel, raising her hand to his chest to push him back, "he's mine."

Her glare must have been convincing enough as Fred held back and let her take the lead. It wasn't going to be in vain, she promised him that. Walking back towards Draco, she thought of how to play it as her emotions were wrestling with her calm, logical head. When she reached his weakened body, she crouched down over him, a hand gently stroking the hair out of his face like she used to do when they were together. This was when her heart took over, and she knew exactly what she had to do.

It made her remember the memories, but it also made him remember them. He became disarmed at the kindness he once lusted for, and with that she was able to take advantage. She managed to place one foot on his wand hand without any resistance and stomped it down, straining his wrist to almost breaking point.

"Ugh!" Draco grunted.

"Where are they?" Isobel demanded, using her hand to grip him around his neck and her voice turning dangerous. "What did you do?"

"Let's just say I sent them to a place far worse than here," said Draco, seething through the pain. "You'll never get to them now, not without giving up your freedom first. It's a shame, really, because the Weasley boy would've been in much better conditions as a Dragon tamer. At least he would get fed. You were the ones who decided his fate, not me."

Isobel slapped him hard across the face with her wand hand, causing him to grunt as the wooden mark burned onto his cheek.

"Fucking hell!" Draco groaned.

"That is for kidnapping my best friend and her dad," Isobel told him angrily.

She then slapped him again. This time, harder.

"That is for threatening people I care about and taking away their brother for your own pathetic game!"

And then, as she thought about everything that had happened and how close she had been to having Luna finally safe and sound, she landed one final blow.

"And that, is for me," she told him as the impact from her whole fist imprinted onto Draco's skin in bright red. "I can't believe I ever believed in you; you're a spineless, pathetic, arrogant little boy who will never know how it feels to love someone. I hope you and your family rot in hell, and when you do, I'll dance on your grave."

She was breaking inside, the emotional toll of the last five minutes eating her up with every breath she took. However, she managed to get up, leaving Draco behind her as she walked towards Fred and George - whom she felt extremely drawn to as her defenders.

"If I'm going to hell, then I'll be with Luna," Draco smirked, just loud enough for them to all hear, "because she and your little boyfriend have just arrived."

Isobel looked at George, who sympathised with her but warned her off it, and then she looked at Fred, who nodded at her to respond.

Isobel turned around and rushed to Draco's side, grasping his jacket lapels and pulling him up towards her so their noses almost touched. She didn't want him to miss what she was about to say.

"I am going to make sure that everyone at Semperess is freed, you got that?" she told him, "I will not stop until every last wizard, witch and child being held captive is free and your smug face is behind bars. My legs will not rest until it has walked every inch of this land, and everyone like you is arrested and put away for life so you can never hurt anyone ever again. We will win, and you will lose. I would stop while you can Draco, because this only ends with you being the loser this time."

"Iz, we've got to go," said George. "You don't know what kind of alert he's sent."

"No, keep going," Fred grinned. "I could watch this all night."

"I will plaster your face across the country," Draco spluttered as he struggled to breathe from her tight grasp, smiling as he got one last thing over her, "there won't be one snatcher that doesn't know your face. They will catch you, and then I will personally watch from the front row as they torture you out of your filthy mudblood mind. You won't even be able to stand by the time they're done with you."

Isobel could hear George struggling to pull Fred back. The word mudblood had riled him up. She knew that despite his faults, Fred hated anyone using that slur.

"You don't scare me anymore Draco," said Isobel, staring courageously into the eyes of her tormentor, "Plaster my face everywhere, send all the snatchers after me in the world. I don't care. You've messed with me for the last time. You will lose, and I don't care how many of you or your friends suffer. I almost killed once, that's how powerful my anger became, whose to say it won't be you next."

She stomped on Draco's wrist again, and this time, she heard a snap, knowing that she had caused severe damage. As Draco yelped in pain, Isobel smiled, and she walked back to Fred and George, leaving Draco Malfoy firmly behind her and out of sight.

"Let's get out of here," she told them exhaustedly.

As the three of them raced to escape Malfoy Manor undetected, none of them said a word. The only thing that was muttered between them was a reminder of directions, but even then, that was said between the two brothers rather than to Isobel. They could see that she had completely shutting down after the loss of Charlie and Luna, and was running on fumes after confronting Draco like that. It had used her last vile of energy, all the strength she had gathered. With Charlie gone and Luna gone again, just as she had her in reach, she felt like completely collapsing and sinking into the earth.

They hadn't just taken two people now; they had taken three, and her and the Wesley's efforts to be heroes had completely backfired to their enemies' favour.

They needed a new plan and fast, but right now, Isobel could only focus on returning to the forest without completely bursting into tears. If it weren't for Fred and George noticing her struggling and helping to carry her by throwing her arms over their shoulders, she would've just fallen and laid still on the grass, feeling the cold and wet blades seep into her dress in complete hopelessness.

The time for playing nice was over. Charlie was right, they'd have to play them at their own game if they were going to save everyone.

Chapter Text

"...and that concludes the name of the witches and wizards who are known to be missing. To Merlin, we wish that they are all found very soon.

Now, on to the bounty's for  Wizards   Most Wanted . As usual, if you know the whereabouts of any of the following, please contact the Ministry of Magic as soon as possible. You will be greatly rewarded for your efforts.

Harry Potter...Ron Weasley...Hermione Granger...Alistair Moody...Nymphadora Tonks...Kingsley Shaklebolt...Fred Weasley...George Weasley...and Isobel Monroe.

Again, these are highly dangerous fugitives who are suspected of numerous instances of criminal activity. Approach them with caution. They can be brought in with force; however, it is said that they are needed alive. For facial recognition, you can find posters scattered in all main wizarding villages as well as on Page 3 of the Daily Prophet.

And now,  as we get back to the music,  for anyone who is a fan of the slow tunes of the 1920's I've got all the hits coming up for you-"

"Oh shut up!"

Isobel slammed her hand down on the radio on the bedside table, turning it off with a bang.

She stared at the moon through the window, still in the same pyjamas that she had slept in the night before, with her body flopped against the mattress. With her hand laid on the radio, the announcer's words began playing over and over again in her mind, and it got her worried...thinking about the situation they currently found themselves in.

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things. He was cold, calculating, he was devious, but he wasn't a liar. He never needed to; the truth was often horrible enough, and he stuck to his threats - including the one he had made to her that night.

By the time the sun rose on the night after the Halloween party, there was an hourly tannoy across the Wizarding radio saying that she, Fred and George were wanted for crimes of treason and that any snatcher or member of the public that could turn them in would get rewarded worth a thousand galleons. They were all wanted alive, but Isobel was sure it was because Fred and George were purebloods - even the Malfoys had to live by their own purist beliefs to not kill one another.

She was just lucky to be grouped in with them.

This, of course, had made leaving Lee Jordan's flat extremely difficult. They had to shelter for a week straight, and Lee himself (after learning about what had happened) had to call in sick to the matches that he had been scheduled to do due to fear that he would be asked questions on their whereabouts. They were on borrowed time now, they knew that. It would only be a matter of days before they would have to move on.

The only question was...where?

Where would they be safe? What would they do next? Should they tell the Order? And if so, how would they tell them?

All communications were being intercepted, and the Ministry was being overrun by Death Eaters every day.

They were trapped.

They had tried to talk about these things when they got back that first night, but the weight of losing Luna and Charlie became too heavy for them to think straight. The one thing they did decide on was that it would be too soon to act as Draco had the upper hand, so they went to bed and tried to speak again the next morning - to no avail. As soon as the announcements went out, they had no choice but to hide, and as the days slipped from them it became harder and harder to get the energy to strategise.

Isobel had become consumed with grief, no longer able to think about anything but that night, and she retracted into herself - resorting to barely speaking within a matter of days. Eventually, she became so reclusive that Fred and George gave up their bedroom to her so she could be alone, and that only allowed her to be more isolated. The twins slept in Lee's room as she stayed awake at night numb with anger and loss, but that didn't mean she didn't see how they were dealing with things.

George and Lee would knock on her door occasionally to bring her food or to attempt conversation, but no interaction lasted any more than a couple of minutes. Fred's appearance was rare, but she understood that, as they were the least likely to want to comfort each other.

From the glimpses of what she could hear through the walls, Fred's voice was spoken the most. He was always the loudest voice in the room, and if you were an outsider looking in, you wouldn't have thought anything had happened. It made her question if he was just putting up a front, or if that rivalry with Charlie really had run too deep.

George was hit the hardest; that was clear when he talked. It was like he constantly had a lump in his throat, and she swore that one time she heard him crying through the walls when she went to the toilet. She could only imagine what he was feeling, losing a brother in that way, but for some reason, she never found the strength to go in and ask him about it. She was afraid of opening up her own feelings that she had been suppressing.

You see, Isobel could only think of the people she had failed. She felt guilt, anger, and failure. Her mind was consumed with the three people that she had let down:

Xeno, that father figure she had yet to find.

Charlie, the boy who had been a much-needed companion in a time of uncertainty.

And Luna, the best friend that she hadn't been able to save from a terrible fate.

They were names not mentioned on the missing reports, because no one knew they were missing. There were no posters for them, and so nobody was looking for them. Even the Weasleys didn't know that their own son or brother had been captured, and it weighed on Isobel's mind terribly. Whether they tried to warn their parents was Fred and George's prerogative, but they hadn't done anything so far, out of trying to protect their feelings. It made it all the more sour, that people like Draco could do these things in the shadows and get away with it.

Just as she was about to close her eyes and scream into her pillow like she had done every time everything had gotten overwhelming, there was a knock at the door, which opened without permission.

"Hey Monroe-" said Fred as he walked into the room. He took one look at her lying on the bed and immediately muted, not finishing his sentence. "Crap."

"It's alright," said Isobel, her voice muffled from being pushed up against her pillow, "I'm awake."

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" he asked.

"No," she said in a quiet voice, and she turned her head so that the pillow was no longer shortening her breath, "I was just listening to the radio."

"Oh, you heard that did you?"

"I never miss it," she told him, "it's the same announcement on loop, but you never know if there's going to be information on...well, you know."

"Yeah, George and I are the same," said Fred, "but Lee keeps trying to remind us that hearing no names on that missing list is a good sign."

Isobel laughed sadly. "Lee Jordan...ever the optimist."

Fred tapped the door lightly with his hand. "I made some dinner, I didn't know if you wanted some."

"No it's okay," she answered dully, "I'm not hungry."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred turn to leave. Hi hair had grown a bit messier as they had been away now for a couple of weeks, and it was like a ball of burning fire that you couldn't quite miss. However, something stopped him, and he turned around on the balls of his feet to face her again.

"Okay, can I just ask you something?" he whispered to her, "Just you haven't eaten in days and they're all getting a bit worried out there. George and Lee wouldn't dare ask you, but I just wanted to check...we don't have to, like, worry about you, do we?"

Isobel scrunched up her face. "What?"

"Well...," said Fred, and he took a few steps closer to her so that George and Lee couldn't hear him. "You've barely left this room, and you rarely speak to anyone, even George, so you're not going to do anything stupid, are you? Like do we need to set up a watch rotation or something? Because if something happened to you and we could've stopped it, our mum would smack us into the next decade-"

"I'm not going to hurt myself if that's what you're worried about," Isobel sighed. "I'm just what the muggles call...depressed."

"Okay good, glad that you're...depressed," Fred replied. He stood there for a minute more and the room filled with an awkward silence. Neither of them was used to him acting like he cared for long. "Well, now lets cleared up, George is waiting for me to serve so I'll leave you on your-"

"How are you acting so okay?" Isobel asked, lifting her head up as her curiosity got the better of her. "We both lost Charlie. How can I be so miserable and you be so unaffected?"

It may have been a more direct question than she meant it to be. But his complete lack of emotion had drawn her to believe that not everything was as it seemed.

Fred stared at her for a moment and then peered over his shoulder to check that George and Lee weren't listening in, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the bedroom.

"Unaffected?" he repeated at a low volume, "what the hell makes you think that?"

"I haven't heard you upset, I haven't even heard you talk about it," Isobel replied.

"Yeah, and why do you think that is?" he asked, "someone has to be the strong one here. George is beside himself, Lee wasn't even there yet he's choked up over Luna, and you're well...this."

He appeared slightly uncomfortable as his hands gestured to her and the general bed area.

"So you are upset," Isobel stated.

"Upset? I'm devastated," Fred told her, his voice breaking as he admitted it, "But we can't all lie in bed can we? Some of us have to keep morale going."

His words were like a slap in the face. He was correct, she had just locked herself away, but he shouldn't have judged that. Isobel retracted herself as she hid once more.

"I'm allowed to grieve," she retaliated quietly, "I lost my best friend, again."

"Yeah, and I lost my brother," said Fred, "who I'm sure you are grieving too, but don't you dare say that I'm unaffected just because I want to do something more productive for him than giving up."

His accusation was false, and his tone was somewhat resentful. It made her so irritated that she sat up straight, her ponytail dropping from where she had been lying on it.

"I'm not giving up," said replied.

"Then what do you call this?" he asked, his brown eyes weakly masking disappointment. "Because the Monroe I know never stops. Even when, quite frankly, it's annoying."

"Everyone processes grief differently," Isobel insisted.

Fred rubbed his face with his hands in frustration. "It's not grief," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Isobel asked him, calling for him to speak up.

"It's not grief," Fred told her, meeting her dead in the eyes. "They're not dead, so don't say that."

"They're as good as. You heard Draco, they're in hell."

"And you believe a word that comes out of Draco Malfoys mouth do you?"

"I do when it comes to evil!" she replied.

Their voices had become raised, and as her face became flushed, Isobel sat back and composed herself. This was not the time to be fighting, nor the time to be talking about this. It was why she had put herself in a room without anyone to talk to.

She was still so...angry.

She didn't want to take it out on anyone who didn't deserve it.

As she looked to the window again and saw the big word out there full of muggles who had no clue of their struggles, she sniffed a tear to stop it from falling.

"You don't know what he's capable of," she whispered as she tried to hold back her emotion.

Fred didn't respond for a second, perhaps trying to control his emotion too, and when Isobel thought he felt calm again, he spoke back - walking over to the wall so that he gave her as much space as possible.

"Trust me, I do," he said gravely, "I saw it first hand."

He either meant the Inquisitorial Squad or the night on the clock tower where Dumbledore had died. Isobel had yet to reveal what her real role had been that night, but this wasn't the right time to reveal it, so she kept that secret to herself.

"His actions weren't the scariest part," she said, her voice gravely, "you didn't see the aftermath, you didn't hear them talk about it after, about why they did those things...hear them laugh about it. They were all groomed to think that it was all okay. You only know the true picture once you see all that."

As a tear escaped down her face, Isobel tried her hardest to not let Fred see. She didn't want to cry in front of him, as she had never wanted him to see her look weak. She was betrayed, though, as it raced its way to her chin and fell into her lap. Fred's eagle eyes noticed it straight away.

"They're going to be okay," he reassured her, his voice as soft as the rug below her feet.

"No," Isobel sniffed, "we need to be realistic. We know they're not."

"They might not even be at Semperess. It could be another of Draco's lies," Fred said in another attempt to bring comfort. He wasn't the best liar, but she understood that he was trying to help.

Boys never liked seeing girls cry.

"No they're there," she said, nodding as she told herself, "I can sense it. It's different this time, Luna's scared."

She glanced over at the butterfly hair clip on the side table next to the bed. It hadn't left her side in the hope that it would activate again, but nothing had happened so far.

"Well I'd like to believe my brother isn't rotting in a prison camp," Fred sighed, "so we need to stay positive."

"Being positive won't help," said Isobel, "it doesn't help them if we don't face what we're dealing with. You heard him, Draco enjoyed telling us what he had done. Luna and Charlie and Xeno are all at Semperess."

She hadn't said it out loud until now. The words rippled off her tongue, and soon enough, her gut churned, all of the anger and guilt she had been feeling rising up in a wave of suppressed emotion.

With tearful eyes, she could barely speak, and she knew she was going to break any second.

The guilt was too much. The anger was too much. She just had to get it out, she had to let it all out so that she could finally get in the headspace Luna needed her to be in. She needed to heal.

Admitting it was the start of that.

"...And it's all my fault."

She lowered the barriers she had built against herself, and rivers of tears started streaming down her face. Placing her head in her hands, she tried to silence her cry, but the space fogged up quickly with her heavy breath. She could feel Fred's eyes on her as he hesitated about what to do, and as she kept one ear on his movements, she noticed he had moved over to the door and placed a hand on the handle...

"Don't you dare get George or Lee," she cried to him in a harsh breath, her face still covered.

"Sorry," said Fred, and a click told her he had let go of the door, the jump in voice giving away that he was surprised she had sensed him so easily, "I just thought- I just thought you'd rather them be here than me."

That couldn't be further from the truth. She had never wanted to cry in front of Fred, and that was still the case, but at least he was no-nonsense - she didn't need sympathy right now. George and Lee would join her in her wallowing.

"No they'd just make a fuss and tell me everything was okay," she panted, "you know I'm to blame."

"But you're not to blame."

"Yes I am!" she said, annoyed that he would rather lie to her than give her what she needed, "we wouldn't have been at Malfoy Manor if it wasn't for my idea!"

"Yeah, and it was a good idea," said Fred matter-of-factly, "we found Luna."

"And then we lost her again," Isobel sniffed, "and now we've lost Charlie too."

"Neither of those things were your fault," Fred replied.

This was exactly what she didn't want to happen. She was finally owning up to it, accepting what had happened so that she didn't feel so angry, and he was giving her comfort...for the first time ever.

This was the wrong time for it to be the first time ever.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Fred," she cried to herself. "Draco tortured him in front of me, and he probably took him just to hurt me because he could tell there was something between us-"

"No, I'm being serious," said Fred. She heard the bottom of his boots creak against the wooden floor as he walked over to the bed and sat down opposite her, their backs facing each other as he spoke over his shoulder. "In the nicest way Monroe...this is bigger than just you. We were all there; we all could've done something, but we didn't - because no one could get a step ahead of evil. There was nothing we could've done to stop that from happening. At all."

"Yes we could," she replied, "there was something we could've done, something I should've done. I was just so stupid to not think of it. I let them both down."

"Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?" he asked, "you're so stressed. All the time. You can't control everything, okay? No one knew what Draco would do if we reacted to his threats."

"But I should've done," Isobel told him, "that is who I am, I am the girl who tries to know everything so that she knows what to do in every situation. Knowledge is my only power. Do you not see all these books on the floor? I've been searching for the spell he used, but I can't find it anywhere! Anywhere! I wasn't prepared, I let Luna down."

Isobel kicked one of the half-open books on the floor out of anger.

"Do you not hear yourself?" Fred laughed. "If you can't find the spell anywhere, then that means it's rare, meaning there was zero chance we would've been able to stop it that night. So why don't you pick up those books, read them again and instead look for something we can use against them going forward. Preferably something that can cause serious damage."

"Because there's no point!" Isobel huffed, "They're in Semperess, and Draco has made it nearly impossible to leave the flat without getting snatched! We're checkmated, we have no moves left."

She collapsed into herself and hunched over, her hands gripping into her skull through her hair. She had become totally lost, losing herself to a hurricane of uncontrollable emotion that she had no grasp over.

"Merlin, Monroe, what happened to you?" Fred asked with saddened shock, "what happened to the girl that finally gave it to Draco and swore to avenge all muggleborns? You were ready to kill that night at the Manor."

"She didn't go away," Isobel told him, ashamed. The thoughts that she had been trying to suppress were pushing to the forefront of her mind, and she couldn't lie to herself anymore. "I haven't given up, I haven't. It's just that I'm trying everything I can to find a logical solution - a safe solution. Because if I don't I have no choice but to-"

She took in a breath and stared at him over her shoulder, face to face, fire burning in her eyes behind behind a barrier of tears.

"There's a reason I've locked myself in here all this time. It's because if I leave this flat I know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to kill him, I'm going to kill them all. I won't stop until all the muggleborns are free, not just Charlie and Luna. You're right, it's not in my nature to back down, and that's what scares me. Once I leave this room Fred, there's no going back for me. I know it. I need to calm down first or my mind's not going to be able to see anything but red."

Fred's face didn't flinch at this strong declaration. He didn't even show signs of any disapproval. He simply flicked his eyes at both of hers like a doctor doing a check and then shrugged, accepting what she had said.

"I see," he replied, "well, that stops me from being scared. For a minute there I thought you'd gone soft on me."

"What?" she asked. It amazed her that he didn't see anything wrong with what she had said.

"No, I mean seriously, if you break down on me then we really have no hope," said Fred, and he meant it, "the only way we're going to beat these guys is to get back at them at their own game, and the only way to do that is by using the pain they've given us against them. Charlie was right, we have to play dirty because they wont play fair. That night proved it."

In those last sentences, his eyes softened in regret. Even without saying the words, she knew that he had his own grief about wasting time-fighting with his brother.

"But we're talking about killing someone," said Isobel, "I mean, yes, we're angry now, but surely we would regret it? And wouldn't we be just as bad as them if we start knocking them all off?"

"No," Fred snorted, "because they're killing and torturing innocent people. We will be killing and torturing bad people. You can't regret that, and I'm pretty sure it counts as self-defence."

Well, that did make sense.

"So vigilantes," Isobel laughed to herself, "oh my Merlin, we're going to be like Batman...except even he doesn't kill."

Fred appeared confused and she was once again reminded that he wasn't aware of muggle cultural figures. "Well, I don't know who this half-man, half-bat creature is or what book you read about him in, but come on Monroe, you and I both know it's the only option we have. It's us or them, and they won't show mercy so...why should we?"

As she considered her options and realised that there were very few left, she couldn't help but think that this might be the only way to go. However being mad at someone and killing were two totally different things, to feel a life in your hands was too awful for her to imagine. She stole a peek at Fred and saw that she had an answer right before her. He had attempted to use the Cruciatus curse on Draco, something that surprised everyone. He would be able to tell her how it felt.

"How did it feel?" she asked as her hands picked at the duvet cover, an inch away from his, "using the torture curse?"

"Weird," he told her, "like it felt good at the time, but..."

He stopped himself, perhaps because he thought the truth would put her off, and he needed her onboard. "But what?" she asked.

"I wasn't strong enough," he answered with a hint of embarrassment, and he started to pick at the duvet to mimic her, "not nearly strong enough. I'm good at spells, I thought I would be powerful enough, but it just didn't work. I thought if I ever used one of those curses I would regret it, but I don't, I only regret not torturing that bastard until he couldn't walk."

"You've never done it before," said Isobel as she shook her head sympathetically, sharing his pain, "and a curse like that...emotion just isn't enough."

A large breath escaped Fred's lungs like he was letting something out that he had kept all bottled up. "It should've been enough, though," he said, "I had the chance to get all of us out, and I didn't do it. I failed. If I had properly knocked Draco out, then he wouldn't have had a chance to do that spell, and we could've gotten Charlie and Luna out of there. You say it's your fault, but if you're really looking for a person to blame...then it's me."

It was the most transparent she had ever seen him be, and it was...nice. She felt safer now that he had shared his own guilt, and her body shrugged as she felt a compulsion that was only natural - empathy.

"It's not your fault," Isobel told him honestly, "at least you tried to do something. Don't beat yourself up, there's a reason they don't teach those kind of spells at Hogwarts. They're extremely hard. You can't know everything."

"Good advice," he said, and he stole a glance at her, "maybe you should listen to yourself."

Isobel tilted her head at him knowingly, her lips curling into a faint smile as her eyes laid on his. She couldn't deny it, he had got her there. She couldn't give advice without taking it herself when she was in the same position.

She hated it when he was right.

"You know what always annoyed me about you?" he asked, continuing the momentum now that he had for her talking normally.

"Do we have time for me to pick from the list?" Isobel answered.

"You were always Flitwicks favourite," he said, "top of your class."

"Not always," said Isobel, remembering her fifth year when Flitwick gave her the cold shoulder for a few months, "but yeah, how did you know that?"

"Because he told us many times," Fred insisted, "but also because we were his favourites first, especially me - George was more potions-minded."

"And why did that annoy you?" Isobel questioned him. Out of all the reasons for him to dislike her, this was hardly a reason she thought he would have.

"You took his attention away from us," he said as if this was painfully obvious, "and besides, you then turned into Miss Goody Two Shoes who wasted her time snitching on our projects when really we could've put our genius minds together for the future of wizarding greatness."

Isobel couldn't quite comprehend. She had told on them yes, many times, but it wasn't like she had ever received an invitation to join them either. Probably because she would've turned them down before they could open their mouths.

"So...that's why you've hated me all these years?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, "because I didn't help you make dung bombs in broom cupboards?"

Even as she said it, she knew she couldn't be right.

"No..." Fred disagreed, his face contorting dismissively. He pushed himself up on his hips so that he swivelled round to face her, being more centred on the bed. "You didn't exactly have the creativity for thinking outside the box back then, did you?...But maybe now you're all shaken up, you do. Perhaps now is the time to do what we should've done back then. You know, now you're not a total snitch and all."

Isobel peered up at him curiously, partly offended at what he had just called her. "Which is?"

"Work together," Fred answered, and he leaned in with the very same glint in his eye that he had once used to convince her to keep watch for them in the third year, "We were both Flitwicks prodigies, insane at charms, so I'm sure together we could learn how to execute those curses - without hurting anyone innocent in the process of course, unless we find a stray Death Eater to run experiments on."

"You really think we could work together?" Isobel sighed, rolling her eyes and guessing that Fred hadn't really thought this through, "we haven't been able to go a day without disagreeing about something. You fight me on everything and I rarely agree with you. Lets be honest Weasley, we're completely different, we'll always argue no matter what we do. It's like we're fated to repel each other forever."

Fred pondered on it, but he didn't have to think too hard. Isobel had the impression he didn't usually think too much before doing something. "How about we just...try?" he suggested, sticking his non-scarred hand out in front of her as a sign of an olive branch and having an unusually optimistic voice, "let's call a truce, draw a line over our history and just look forward to the future. You know, for Charlie, Luna and Xeno's sake. We owe it to them, don't we?"

Isobel looked down at his hand, now a symbol of a fresh start. "And you believe we could do that?" she asked sarcastically. She couldn't tell if he was serious.

"I believe anything is possible," he replied, and then he appeared unsure as he looked down at himself, "...even this."

Something had changed. It could've been because she was desperate for an ally, or because they were finally seeing eye to eye with no restrictions, but agreeing to this only seemed...right. Fred was making sense, and if he believed they could do it, with all their history, then that was half the battle. There was nothing to lose anymore, and he and George had become her only hope.

"Okay," she said, and she took his hand, "I agree to a truce. A clean slate, or as clean as we can make it anyway."

They shook on it, and they kept on shaking, neither knowing when to stop or what to say next. It was new territory for the both of them and without their usual shield of hatred, it felt strange.

"This...feels weird, right?" Fred said after thirty seconds of their hands going up and down in the air.

"Glad you felt it too," said Isobel, and as they parted, she let out a giggle.

They both smiled and shared in the oddity of the situation, meeting each other with a friendly glance before looking away, and they sat there in a comfortable silence - each changed by this brief yet intimate conversation.

"Do you need a tissue or?" Fred asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"No, the water will dry by itself, don't worry," Isobel smiled. She became more conscious of how she must've looked now she was out of the darkness. "I actually think I could do with some food, still good on that dinner offer?"

Fred's face fell into panic. "Oh my Merlin, dinner! I left it on before I came to check on you!"

The two of them ran out into the living room, expecting the whole flat to be up in smoke. However, they were pleasantly greeted by no panic, and no danger, as the pot that Fred had cooked dinner in was placed safely on the kitchen counter. George and Lee were standing up facing the dining room table, leaning over to be looking at something.

"Ah, thanks for not burning the place," said Fred, panting. "Got the vampire out of her cave."

Isobel gave him a dumbfounded stare.

"Sorry," he said to her promptly, "force of habit, I promise. A clean slate from...now."

She tutted as she wondered how long this would last, as he had already fallen at the first hurdle, and turned to George and Lee. "What's going on?"

Lee turned around to face them both with the expression of a man who had finally been defeated - or, at the very least, had a very tough day.

"I got questioned at work today, again," he told them, "high up Ministry Officials this time. I'm sorry but I don't think I can't hide you anymore, they'll be on to me soon, if not already, and then they'll find you. These people don't come across as the type to find surprise home visits rude. For your own safety, you have to leave."

"Im sorry," said Fred, who's brief smile had now fallen, "of course, we knew we couldn't stay here forever, we'll leave tonight."

"Yeah, once we find a place to move to," Isobel added.

They had always known this was going to happen.

"Well, I think we've already found it," said George, and he stepped aside to reveal who was sitting there.

The deep hollow scars are what she saw first. Then, the thinning and messy brown hair, and then the haggard ill-fitting clothing that appeared to have been worn for a few days. It was her favourite professor, but only a shell of the man he once was.

"Professor Lupin," said Isobel, "what are you doing here?"

"I messaged him," said George, "we need help, and I had to try someone who wouldn't overreact."

"I can as soon as I heard," said Remus, returning to his teach-like voice, "and from what I've been hearing on the radio, you need me. You've got yourselves in quite the pickle this time, haven't you?"

Chapter Text

The departure was quick and painless. In five minutes, the three of them had packed up their few possessions, gathered back in the living room, and started saying their goodbyes to Lee Jordan.

This was their first safe house, probably not their last, and they owed Lee all the favours in the world. They hoped their paths would come again - but in a more positive time, where they could meet in a beer garden for a drink in the summer, not on a battlefield.

"Are you ready to go?" George asked Isobel as she dropped her bag in front of him at the front door.

"Yeah," she huffed, "it's not exactly like I'm carrying heavy."

"So you and Fred...you're friends now?" he asked her. They hadn't had a chance to talk about it yet.

Isobel put on her scarf, knowing that the temperatures were dropping outside. "I prefer the term civil acquaintances," she told him. "There's still a long way to go until we're besties, but yeah, we've called a truce now. We've agreed no more going over old ground."

"Cool," said George, seeming happy with their agreement, "acting like adults...should be refreshing."

Remus and Lee walked back into the living room, having spoken privately in the kitchen for the last few minutes. Remus whispered something in Lee's ear and tapped him fatherly on the shoulder, the two sharing an end to their secret conversation, and then he turned attention to Isobel and George.

"Right, that's two of you, so where's Fred?" he asked. "We've got to move soon."

"Sorry, I'm coming," said Fred, and he ran out with two fully packed bags. He had packed not only for himself but also for Charlie, whose leather coat was sticking out of the zipper of the second bag.

He had not wanted to leave anything of his brother behind.

"Thank god for apparition," he sighed, "I could not carry this on foot."

"Yeah, about that," said Remus, frowning at both bags. "The apparition method is too unsafe to use whilst the Ministry is tracking it, so we have to use brooms."

"But we don't have brooms," said Isobel as Fred flung his head back in frustration.

"I gave Remus the code to my garage downstairs," said Lee, giving them one more moment of help. "You'll find more than enough brooms in there, as I keep them when the players get bored of them. They're not Quidditch worthy anymore, but they'll get you there."

"And where exactly is 'there'?" asked George.

"Top secret," said Remus, teasing them. "I don't dare give you the house's address in the hope that when we all come out of this alive, you shall never remember the location and give us a surprise visit."

They said their final goodbyes to Lee, Fred and George promising to stay in touch as much as possible, and left without wasting another minute. They went down to Lee's garage and picked out their brooms from a bigger collection than they thought it would be. There was one firebolt, and the rest were Nimbus's, with a few other pieces of equipment scattered around. Fred and Isobel each reached for the firebolt and looked at each other, not wanting to break their new pact already so early on, and hesitated before picking it up. To his credit, Fred stepped aside and let Isobel have it, a polite gesture that she appreciated and later thanked him for.

It felt weird, him being nice to her, but after flying an hour and a half in the autumn night air - she soon forgot about it.

"There!" said Remus, pointing down to a long country road with a few old houses scattered around it. Their back gardens led onto a large forest , and all they could see for miles were rows and rows of old birch trees. It made sense, Remus living near a forest, as when a full moon came he could just run in and hide if need be. "Fly down just inside the gate!"

All four of them landed without trouble in the dark and without recognition, as no one on the road was around, and no cars were going past due to the late time. As Isobel looked up at Tonks and Remus's house, she felt it suited them. It was an old Tudor house, quite small and flat in stature, but with lots of character - and greenery that they could both attend to. It stood out in the row of houses, just like they did.

"Welcome!" shouted Tonks as she flung open. She was dressed in star-patterned pyjamas, her blue hair in a ponytail. Remus had obviously left just as they were settling down for the night.

"Shhh!" Remus silenced her immediately. "Do you not remember that we are all fugitives?"

"My loving, laid-back husband," said Tonks sarcastically as they all hurried inside the door, "hasn't stopped worrying since we last saw you."

Once they were all in, Remus closed the door behind them, and they all felt much safer. He locked it multiple times, as he had about nine locks on the door.

"Understandable," said Fred as he kissed her on the cheek as a greeting, "things  have  gone mad."

"It has," she replied as George greeted her the same way." You've been up to no good, I see."

"Unfortunately, it was needed, but we did find Luna," said Isobel as she rubbed herself warm from the cold. "Until we lost her again...and Charlie."

Tonks pouted in sadness as Isobel's eyes glazed over again, dipping back into the feelings that Fred had managed to pull her out of earlier. George must have filled them in with the basic details in his letters asking Remus to come. "I know, chick. We're sorry to hear about what happened."

"Thanks for taking us in," said Fred, seeing that Isobel was getting upset again and wanting to get off the subject, "it was getting way too risky for Lee to keep housing us."

"No problem, happy to help. I'm just sorry that we only have one spare room," Tonks apologised.

"It's okay. Monroe can take it, and we'll take the living room," Fred replied, and George nodded in agreement.

Isobel shook her head. Fred had let her have the best broom, so she would let him have this one to honour their new agreement. She was used to the sofa anyway. "No, it's okay. There are two of you. I'll take the sofa."

"You slept on the sofa most of our time at Lees," Fred told her. "Take the bed this time. We'll be fine."

"We really are sorry. We'll put an extra mattress down so you're not cramped," Remus said to them as Tonks narrowed her eyes at the no longer-feuding people in front of her. "We just don't have much space here now. Well..."

At his gesture, Tonks patted her stomach, and the three of them stared down in surprise. It hadn't been noticeable before, but now they could see that her belly was very rounded—sticking out a lot more than if she had just been bloated.

"Oh my Merlin," said George, starting to stutter, "you're not p-p-"

"Pregnant?" Tonks answered, "Yeah, well, I hope that's what it is anyway. Otherwise, we're in big trouble."

"Congratulations!" said Isobel, and she ran to Tonks to hug her gently, being careful to not squish her stomach.

"Thanks," said Tonks. "We tried to keep it a secret, but it's going to get really hard to do that soon."

"No one else knows?" Isobel asked Remus as Fred and George touched her bump themselves and congratulated Tonks.

"No, not yet," said Remus. "We prefer to tell people in person because, let's just say if our letters were intercepted, there would be questions."

"Like what?"

"So what is it going to  be  exactly?" Fred asked Tonks, " Like is it going to be half wizard, half werewolf? Fully werewolf? Will it be like a human with fur or more like a dog that can do magic? Will it sleep outside every full moon? Eat raw meat and howl spells? What's the deal?"

George and Isobel glanced at each other, amazed that he could be so clueless.

"Like that," Remus huffed. "We'll explain everything in the morning. Let's get you all fed and in bed, shall we?"

***

"So you're going to be a mum!" Isobel asked Tonks as she got into bed. Tonks was sat on top of the duvet, escaping the boys downstairs as they had a bit of girl time. Isobel hoped it would go on for a while, as it had been ages since she had been around a female presence.

"I know," said Tonks, and she smiled as her hair flushed pink. "I'm so excited."

"Have you picked out a name yet?" Isobel asked.

"Edward, if it's a boy, Teddy for short," Tonks told her, crossing her legs to get her comfortable, "we haven't decided on a girl's name yet, but perhaps Andy, after my mother."

"Great names," said Isobel, who loved hearing people's baby news. "I'm sure you'll be great parents, too. Professor Lupin was always our favourite teacher. He just knew how to speak to us."

She had meant it as a compliment, but Tonks didn't seem to take it that way. She smiled half heartedly and looked down, not as cheerful as she was a minute before.

"Did I say something wrong?" Isobel asked. She had not wanted to cause any offence.

Tonks shook her head. "No, it's just....it's nothing."

She put on a false smile, showing her teeth, which was a sign of pretending, and tried to cover how she really felt.

"I'm here to talk," said Isobel as kindly as she could. "Honestly, I won't judge. I've been with the Weasley boys for months now, and any conversation would be a welcome change."

Tonks paused for a second, evaluating whether or not she could share this personal information with a former student of her husband's. However, like Isobel, she had limited choice in confidants, so she said it anyway. "I think he's just scared about being a dad," she admitted with a sigh, "and having a child like  him ."

"But the werewolf gene isn't inherited; the baby won't be born one, will they?" Isobel asked back. She had read about it as soon as she learnt that her Professor was a werewolf. She spent most of her summer after her third year reading about them.

"Oh, I know that," said Tonks, "but Remus still thinks there's a chance, and if not, there's still a chance he could be like me. Either way, he would be different, and in the world the way it is at the moment...it's not really a place for a child like that to be safe. Of course, there's a chance that the baby is perfectly healthy, but then Remus thinks they would be ashamed to have a werewolf as a father. He's scared he's going to be rejected."

"But that's nonsense," Isobel replied, saddened that this was even a concern that he had, "you two are going to be wonderful parents, and as long as you love them, they're sure to love you no matter what. And in terms of being different in this world, I understand where you're coming from, but I see it as a strength...and the right people will, too. The only people who ever get scared of those who are different are those who don't try to understand them."

Tonk's eyes gave away a gratitude that she didn't express verbally. "You're very wise," she said. "If this ever gets sorted, I'm sure the Wizarding Counsel would hire you in a heartbeat."

Isobel touched her hand with hers, a gesture of unification. "It's true. I'm sorry you even have to think about things like that when you should be excited about your first child."

"I just try to keep my mind on other things," said Tonks. She readjusted herself and shuffled to get comfier on the bed, changing the subject quickly. "Like with other people's gossip...so anyway, what's going on with you and Weasley, eh?"

"Oh, Charlie?" Isobel asked, slightly taken back as she hadn't told Tonks anything about that, "I mean, we were just getting to know each other. We never put a label on it-"

"No, not him!" said Tonks quickly.  Isobel frowned at her, and she realised she may have been a bit insensitive and dismissive. "Sorry, no, unfortunate what's happened to him of course; I didn't mean it like that. No, I was talking about Fred. You and him  hated  each other. You could barely be in the same room without being at each other's throats. And what, now he's giving up a bed for you? What the goss there?"

Now, it was Isobel's turn to act reserved.

"Nothing...," she replied sheepishly, "honestly. He's just being respectful as I slept on the sofa at Lee Jordan's place."

"Iz, you were arguing nonstop," said Tonks, leaning in. "Only something amazing would change that incredibly stubborn yet wonderfully passionate mind of his. He's not respectful to people he can't stand."

"I think losing Luna and Charlie just made us realise that we needed to forget any anger we had for each other," said Isobel. "We made a truce to pause everything and focus on working together. Stop being so immature over unimportant things and that."

This was not as exciting of an answer as Tonks had hoped for. Isobel thought she might have been trapped in this house with Remus for as long as they had been on the run, so she wanted a little more excitement.

"And whose idea was that then?" Tonks asked as she continued her questing with less intrigue. "Yours, I expect?"

"No, his," Isobel answered. Girls  were  generally more emotionally mature, so Tonks wasn't wrong in guessing that.

Tonks suddenly looked her in the eyes, becoming more interested. "And this happened right after Charlie got taken?" she asked curiously, "he wasn't being nice before?"

Isobel told the truth. "Yes, this was only yesterday, but we had been having moments before that. Of friendliness, I mean. He shielded me when their shop blew up, which was nice of him."

She thought that was fair to say.

"Mmmhmmm," said Tonks. She made a sound instead of a response, and Isobel thought she might be moving her words on purpose.

"What?" she asked her.

"It's just interesting, that's all," Tonks replied. She was trying to squash a smile like Isobel had said something humorous. "I'm just finally glad you two are getting along."

"Dora!" Remus shouted from downstairs. "Where is the blow up mattress again? I can't find it!"

Tonks rolled her eyes at Isobel, and they shared a look that most girls had experienced when being around a man who couldn't be bothered to look for things.

"I better go down...he may be strong, but boy, is his eyesight rubbish when it comes to looking in the broom cupboard," she joked.

She stood up, held her bump, and walked to the bedroom door. Before leaving, she stopped to say one last thing.

"Listen, times like this, war, it brings people together. We need each other to survive, and sometimes things you thought impossible don't suddenly seem so impossible anymore. Look at me and Remus. Y ou might think we're complete opposites, but here we are, about to have a kid. Keep having an open mind...you might find yourself fascinated about what you might find."

"I will...," said Isobel, not quite getting the cryptic message she was sure Tonks was trying to give to her. "Though somehow, I don't think a baby will be what we get from making amends."

Tonks smiled at her dotingly. This hadn't been what she had meant, but she appreciated Isobel making light of it anyway. "Goodnight, Iz."

***

The next day was spent by Remus teaching the three of them defence spells in the garden - a lot of them more advanced than what he had been able to teach them at Hogwarts. It was a sunny day, albeit a bit cold - and they were testing the spells on a dummy that Remus had fashioned together out of a broom and some old pillows. The training was useful , and Isobel found it enjoyable as she missed the structure of lessons and the excitement of learning, but Fred and George were way less enthusiastic.

"You all have taken to that rather...well, rather quickly," said Remus after they practised five stunning spells each on the practice dummy. "I never thought I'd say it, but I feel like you could all have careers in the Auror department when this is over. I'm impressed."

"Yeah, we've taken to it quickly because we knew it already," George complained. "Do you really think we wouldn't equip ourselves with knowledge of how to protect ourselves when Death Eaters knocked down Diagon Alley?"

"We need to learn the more dangerous spells," said Fred, "like the unforgivable curses."

"The unforgivable curses?" Remus repeated, flabbergasted that Fred had mentioned them, "Why would you need to learn those things when you know spells like this?"

"Because none of this is going to cause any damage!" George replied.

"No, it's not. Because I am not here to teach you how to cause damage George. I'm here to teach you how to defend yourself because you're on this country's top ten most wanted list for witches and wizards!"

"Exactly, which is why we need to be prepared to face Death Eaters," said Fred, "these guys aren't going to be out off with an 'Expelliarmus'."

"I don't know, but from what I've heard, Potter has made a career using it," Isobel joked. "He's still alive."

"I've never even cast those curses myself, and I don't intend to start now," said Remus sternly to Fred and George as the boys sniggered at her comment. "I am putting my foot down. You will learn what I teach you and only that whilst you are under my roof. Do you understand?"

"Remus!"

They looked behind them to see Tonks standing at the patio doors. She was holding a folded piece of parchment in her hands.

"Can I speak to you inside for a moment?" she called over to him. "We've just received a letter from my mum."

Remus's eyes suddenly slanted into concern. For what reason, the other three of them did not know. "Coming Dora," he replied to her.

He turned back to Fred, George and Isobel.

"I'll be back in just a moment. Don't harm each other or practice any spells that could land you in Azkaban whilst I'm gone."

With that final warning, Remus walked back inside, closing the door behind him and leaving the three young wizards alone.

"You hear that, Fred? If we get through this alive, we could be Auror's one day," said George, mimicking Remus's upbeat tone.

"Oh yeah, could you imagine me being an Auror?" Fred asked. He playfully pointed towards George, acting the role of Wizarding policeman. "Hands up, you're under arrest."

"No, you'll never take me alive," said George, and he began frantically running around the garden, pretending he was an escaped criminal.

Isobel started giggling at them as she found their acting comical.

"Surrender, or I'll shoot! I'm warning you!" Said Fred. "I don't want to stun you!"

"I'd like to see you try!" George replied cockily, jumping over flowers and pots, "I'll dodge every one!"

"Is that a challenge?" Fred asked, his eyebrows raising in temptation.

"Not a challenge if I know you're gonna lose," said George with a wink.

This made it serious for Fred, and he started throwing spells at his twin brother, tearing up a few weeds in the process as they got hit. They were all stunning spells, as he knew George wouldn't care. When the two hurt each other, they just laughed it off like it was nothing - she wondered if they had ever actually argued for real.

"Monroe, help me catch this vermin," Fred shouted at Isobel, trying to get her involved.

Catching on to their silly mood, Isobel took out her wand and played along. "Yes partner, on your left."

The two of them practised their stunning spells whilst aiming at George, though Isobel made sure that it would never hit him. On the other hand, Fred was more determined than ever to win.

"Hey, that's not fair, not two against one!" George yelled.

"And Flitwicks prodigy's," Isobel smiled, "casting spells with one hundred per cent accuracy."

"Yeah, and let's be honest, my wand's bigger than yours," Fred bragged with a smug grin.

It was amazing that Tonks and Remus hadn't heard them yet. They were starting to cause quite a mess in the garden as George started jumping to his safety for real.

"Your wand might be bigger, but we all know it's because you're compensating," George laughed. "That extra minute in the womb just perfected me, if you know what I mean."

"Oh shut up, you liar," said Fred as he fired another shot, "out of the two of us, we all know who has the bigger-"

A loud scream came from deep within the forest where Fred had aimed, his stunning spell shooting past George and into the trees. It echoed through the air and straight into their ears. The three of them stopped joking around, and they all became frozen on the spot.

"What was that?" Isobel asked them both, her heart beating faster as they all realised they could've hurt someone.

"I don't know," said Fred, looking out towards the direction it had come from, "but we better go and find out."

They all ran through the trees and deep into the forest to search for the source of the scream until they heard a thud on the floor, which made them all stop and scramble for hidden cover. George took a tall birch tree, and Isobel and Fred stopped at one just to the left of him.

"Can you see anything?" Fred asked, breathing down Isobel's neck as he bumped into her back.

Isobel tried to see, but a large bush blocked their view. She didn't want to move in case she alerted whatever it was.

"No, the forest is in the way," she replied, and then she whispered to George, "Can you see anything from your side?"

George stood on his tip toes and peered around the tree to see what it was. After a few seconds of looking, he returned to them to report his findings.

"It looks like it's a person; I think they fell to the floor," he replied as he put his feet back on the ground , " I can see shoes, but I don't know if they're hurt or awake."

"Better throw the spell at them again then," said Fred as he stuck his wand out, "for safe measure."

"What about if it's an innocent muggle? Like a dog walker? Or a hiker?" Isobel asked him with concern.

"And what about if it's a Death Eater?" Fred replied from behind. "I should shoot again, in case. If they're civilians, we can just heal them after and make them forget."

George tutted from behind his tree. "Charming Fred, seriously. Do you really think it's likely that a Death Eater would be all the way out here?"

Fred was getting impatient. He seemed so excited that his spell had worked. "Right, I'm going!"

"No!" said Isobel, pushing him back. He was too trigger happy, and Isobel still had a cool head. "Fine. I'll check it out."

Isobel carefully walked over to the patch of land where the shoes could be seen. On the floor, lying on the dark, wet soil, was a man - about in his twenties- knocked out cold in a long black coat. His face was pale, and his long black hair was matted against his face. She looked down at his side and saw a wand in his hand, which, matched what she could see under his lapel, meant that she knew who the man was and why he had been walking in the woods alone.

"Oh god, Fred," she said as she turned around and looked over her shoulder. "I think you hit a snatcher."

"No way," he said as he entered the clearing. A smile grew on his face out of pride when he stood beside her and looked down upon his successful target.

"How do you know it's a snatcher?" asked George as he followed him out .

Isobel pointed to the metal button that was pinned to his right chest. "Ministry badge," she said. "All of them have got one now, I heard it on the radio the other day."

They stared down at the body, and George kicked him to make sure he was still out cold.

A snatcher ... that could only mean one thing.

"He was so close," he said. "You don't suppose he was tracking Remus and Tonks, do you?"

"Either them or us," said Fred.

Isobel glanced at George worriedly, still in shock at seeing the body. "No matter what, it's reason for caution."

"So what do we do with him?"

"We snatch him," said Fred, offering a solution. George and Isobel gave him a questionable look, but he stood back and argued his case. "No, seriously, he would do the same if it was the other way round, wouldn't he? And if he was following any of us, we can't risk him giving away our location - so we kidnap him."

"And where do you suppose we keep him?" asked George, who was not entirely on board with this idea, "Remus would kill us as soon as we bring him in the house."

"So we don't bring him in the house," said Isobel, and then she turned to Fred, "Tonks told me earlier that they never use the shed. We can keep him in there."

She agreed that them keeping an eye on him was better than leaving him be. They didn't know if any others were close enough for him to run to.

"Perfect," said Fred. "You go ahead and act as lookout while George and I carry him."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said George as Fred went to pick up the snatchers' arms. "Let's think about this. What exactly are we going to do with him? Keep him as a pet? As soon as he wakes up, he's going to attempt to escape or send a signal to his peers."

"We'll just have to make sure he can't move, tie him up or something," Fred answered. "Besides, we won't keep him long. We can try to get answers and then erase his memory. He won't stay around long enough for anyone to come looking or for Tonks and Remus to find out."

"And you're okay with this?" George asked Isobel. He viewed her as a moral compass, which was misguided right now. She no longer wanted to do everything by the book.

"I don't think we have a choice," she told him honestly, "Fred's right, he could be useful, and we can't let him go and give us away."

Fred still hadn't gotten used to their truce. When she said he was right, he snapped his head up to look at her like a dog just hearing the word "treats".

"Besides," Isobel continued, "I think he could be useful in more ways than one."

Seeing him on the floor with the snatcher's badge made her angry. The man represented everything that had hurt her, and she couldn't help but recall her and Fred's conversation yesterday.

They needed to learn how to defend and attack, and they needed to do it quickly.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Fred asked her, noticing her slight hesitation.

"It scares me to think so," Isobel replied, hoping it was the case, "but yes. You did say if we found a bad person to practice on, then-"

"Wait," George interrupted, a fleeting look of shock washing across his face, "are you talking about using this guy as a  test dummy  for the unforgivable curses?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Fred asked. "He's a bad guy. He would do worse to us, and besides, we wouldn't do it to the point of actual pain or lasting damage—we just need someone alive to practice on."

This confirmed to Isobel that they were on the same page. It was a prime opportunity that had fallen into their laps, and they had to take it.

"We need to learn the spells George," said Isobel with a pleading expression, "and as Fred said, he would do it to us given the chance. Imagine if he were the one who had taken Luna or put Dean in that cage. People don't sign up to be snatchers because they want to help the innocent. Just think of it as an interrogation technique to get the truth out of him. We would make sure he wasn't hurt unless..."

"...unless he attacks us first," Fred finished off.

George looked between them curiously and crossed his arms, recognising for the first time that they were on the same wavelength - and he was the odd one out for a change.

"You know what? I don't know if I like you two being on good terms," he said, pointing at them both. "You're scary together."

Isobel admitted to herself that it did feel weird, but surprisingly, not unnatural. She and Fred had both agreed that now was the time to take action, and this seemed like a good plan—even if it meant playing dirty.

It felt good not fighting with him.

"Is that a no?" asked Fred.

"No, it's a yes," said George, giving in immediately with the fear of missing out, "but I just wanted to put it out there. It's freaking me out. Come on, I'll grab the legs."

George lifted the man up by his feet, and Fred took the opposite side, grabbing him by his shoulders. They carried him by keeping him low, and George took the lead in returning to the house.

"Did you hear that? We're scary together," said Fred with a smirk as Isobel walked alongside him.

"Some people are just so scared of genius," Isobel replied sarcastically, though she did mean it.

They both smiled at each other and then looked down at the floor, united by a common goal. They now had their own hostage, and it was up to them to gain leverage from it, whether it be for education, information, or leverage.

Despite Remus's best intentions, they were done playing nice.

Chapter Text

At precisely midnight, Isobel carefully opened her bedroom door and tip-toed down the old, creaky wooden stairs that challenged her not to wake Remus and Tonks up from their sleep. She had said goodnight to them in pyjamas but was now in a plain black jumper, jeans, and coat she had borrowed earlier from Tonks - a bland outfit chosen on purpose given the task she was about to do.

The owners of the house would kill them if they knew what their newest residents were up to, so she had to keep quiet.

"George!" she whispered as she landed in the living room, "George, I can't see; where are you?"

The whole living room was pitch black, and Isobel was blinded by the darkness. She reached around and found the floral cotton sofa covers, but apart from that, only the hardware floor underneath her feet indicated where she was.

"George!"

"I'm right here!"

George had decided, for some reason, to hide by standing behind the curtains. He poked his head out, his wand illuminating with Lumos underneath his chin like he was about to tell a ghost story, and gestured for Isobel to approach him.

"Clever," she said, relieved that he hadn't abandoned her, "I couldn't see you under there."

"Well, I had to do something in case you were Remus!" He whispered as he flung the curtain off him like a regal cape.

"And you didn't think of just pretending to be asleep?" she asked.

"Well, that's too obvious, isn't it?" He replied, "So boring and non-theatrical. Come on, Fred's waiting for us in there."

He quietly opened the sliding door to the garden, and they walked out into the dark autumn night sky together. Away from the city's lights, they could see a few stars, and the silence from the countryside was only interrupted by the sounds of tiny insects that flew around the plants.

Isobel felt a cold chill as George knocked twice on the old shed door, and Fred emerged from it looking tired. He was wiping his hands together to remove dirt, and Isobel noticed veins sticking out under his skin. This sign of strength caused her to lose her focus momentarily, and she had to remind herself to pay attention and not stare.

"How is he?" George asked.

"Still knocked out," Fred replied, "I just tied him up with some old rope I found on a soil bag, ready to wake him up?"

George nodded. In the last couple of hours, Fred had spoken to him more, and he had experienced a change of heart. He was now raring to go. "So what are we doing? Imperio, Crucio...," his face screwed up a bit as his voice went lower, "...the other one?"

"I think just crucio for now," said Fred, and Isobel was relieved they were again aligned in their thinking. "We've had experience with it. It should be the easiest one."

Isobel laughed to herself. "Funny how that's the easy option when positioned between mind control and murder."

"I guess that's why they call it the dark side," said George mysteriously, his hands wiggling in her face like a ghost. He stepped inside the shed, taking over from Fred on watch, and closed the door behind him.

"Has he been asleep the whole time?" Isobel asked Fred as she zipped up her jacket. The wind was starting to pick up now as the night hit its peak.

"Yeah, we slipped him a rather strong sleeping potion," Fred told her. "The first thing he'll see is the inside of the shed, so he won't know where he is."

Isobel thought that was at least something. The worst thing that could happen was the snatcher waking up and realising exactly where he was, as he would know how to run away if he escaped.

"Here, take this," said Fred, handing her a large striped cloth that looked old and smelled like incense. "You can use it to cover your face so he can't see who we are."

"And how do you just happen to have these coverings?" Isobel asked as she took it from him.

It was convenient that they had three masks lying around, and she knew they weren't from the Lupins' household.

"Oh Monroe, haven't you learned by now?" Fred bragged as she tied the piece of cloth around her neck. "You're with the best. We have everything."

"Everything except humility I see," Isobel teased.

Though she still had reservations about him, Isobel felt that things had been much easier in the last two days since they had agreed on their truce. She had not forgotten their past, but welcoming their future didn't seem so bad—especially now that he was being nice to her too.

"Eh, I can't have you liking me too much—that would be weird," he smirked as he secured his mask to cover his face up to his eyes. "And you're sure you're okay doing this? You don't have to do this just because you said yes."

Isobel secured the mask on top of her nose. Now, their eyes were the only things each other could see. "Fred, no one makes me do anything," she told him proudly. "Let's see what this bastard knows."

"Okay..." said Fred as Isobel walked past him to open the shed door. They stepped into the small wooden building and saw George standing before the snatcher underneath a single-lit lightbulb. The snatcher had been tied against a pole and was kneeling on the concrete floor. His eyes were open, as George had just awoken him.

"I've removed the hex so he can speak," said George as Fred shut the door behind them and cast the Silencio soundproofing charm. "But you might want me to put it back, considering I'm already regretting it."

"Let me go, you wankers," threatened the man roughly, a thick cockney accent protruding out of his mouth with spit, "the minute I get out of these chains, you three are going to wish you never did this!"

"Oh, scrappy," said Fred excitedly, not one bit scared by the snatcher's threats. "I like it."

"You won't when the others find out I'm missing and come after you," the snatcher shouted at him. "We all have trackers, you know."

"Oh, what, like this?" George asked, holding up the snatcher's Ministry badge they had taken off him earlier that day. "Fred, would you do the honours?"

"My pleasure," Fred replied.

When George placed it on the floor, Fred stomped on it hard, breaking the tracker into a thousand pieces. The snatcher showed fear for a split second, his blue eyes narrowing under his dark, unwashed hair, but then he recovered his pride as Fred leaned in front of him.

"Who the hell are you?" The snatcher grunted.

"You're worst nightmares," Fred replied without hesitation, "who are you?"

"My worst nightmare? Don't make me laugh," the snatcher jeered, "why? Because you have me trapped in a puny garden shed in the middle of buttfuck nowhere? Wearing masks to cover your identity because you're not confident enough to show your real face? Don't be daft, you'd only frighten my four year old niece at best."

"Why were you here," George spoke commandingly, "in the forest?"

The snatcher's head tilted up towards him. "I was going for a mental health stroll," he replied sarcastically.

Snatchers weren't very bright. After all, they were paid to kidnap any people that they could find for a price. The job didn't require any skill; they didn't really need brains, they just needed strength and opportunity. Most of them, however, didn't realise this, so they had rather big mouths and a cocky ego.

"Why were you here?" Fred asked, sticking his wand to the snatcher's chest in the hopes of intimidation.

"What's it to you?" the snatcher replied, "I don't have to tell you anything. I know my rights!"

"Yeah, and I know mine," said Fred. He twisted his wand upwards so that it rested on the man's chin and dug it into the skin. "Tell us why you were here, or I'll fry off that collection of scatty hairs you call a beard."

Isobel thought Fred was doing quite well so far. He seemed calm and wasn't jolted by the snatcher's defiant manner.

"Go on then," the snatcher dared him, "I'm not spilling to you three twits."

Realising he wouldn't get much further, Fred got back on his feet and walked over to George and Isobel. The three of them huddled together to discuss the situation privately.

"He needs incentivizing," Isobel whispered. "He doesn't look like he'll crack easily."

"You think it's time?" Fred asked.

Isobel nodded her head. "They dish it out, but they can't take it. Sometimes, you have to stoop down to their level."

"So who's going to go first?" George asked as Fred silently agreed.

Isobel wasn't confident, and from the looks of it, George wasn't either. She knew what needed to be done, but now that the time had come, she couldn't find the will to do it. She had never attempted an unforgivable curse, and the last time someone had tried to make her cast one, it changed everything.

"I will," said Fred confidently, "it was my idea anyway."

Neither of the other two wanted to argue with him, so they stepped back, allowing Fred to stand directly in front of the grinning snatcher.

"What are you gonna do?" he goaded, "Hit me with a spell from third-year Defense Against The-"

"Crucio!"

Fred cast the curse, and for a few seconds, a bolt of red lightning bolted out of his wand. However, like last time, he couldn't sustain it. He had failed again.

The snatcher began laughing at him, now proven right by thinking they weren't a threat, and this was not the way Fred Weasley was used to being laughed at. He was used to people laughing with him, not at him, and Isobel could see the gaze in his eyes start to change.

"Oh, that was pathetic," the snatched laughed, "what are you, amateurs? Fucking useless you are."

"Crucio!"

This time Fred cursed it, it worked. The snatcher screeched out in pain as his body vibrated like a fish out of water, and Isobel was happy that Fred had succeeded in redeeming himself from before. However, he didn't stop. They had only planned to do it for a maximum of five seconds as a test, but Fred was so angry that he showed no signs of ending the torture.

He had just passed the minute mark when George felt the need to intervene.

"Fred," said George, placing a hand on his shoulder as his eyes looked concerned for his brother, "put it down, mate. He's not worth losing control and doing something by accident."

The sound of his brother's voice pulled him back to reality. With his eyes pulling back into focus, Fred lowered his wand, the curse rippling through the snatcher's stomach as he did so, and eventually, the red sparks stopped.

He had practised control.

"That's a warning that we are not playing around here!" Fred warned the snatcher, his jaw clenched in anger, "So tell us, why were you here?"

"The werewolf," said the man, wincing in pain but still smiling with horrifying pride, "experiments are being done with them. So I was sent to get him. The reward is a huge pay-out."

"What type of experiments?" George asked before Fred could.

"That's not for you to know," the man said, his eyes slowly lifting to those standing, "unless you fancy taking a trip to Semperess."

"But what would Semperess need with werewolves?" Isobel asked him. "They're unpredictable; they can't be trained, so they can't be using them to fight for you-know-who. Unless..."

As Isobel's brain tried to keep up with her thoughts, many terrible possibilities crossed her mind. The wizarding community had always snubbed werewolves, so why were they so important now? It could only be of their violent nature when turned...and that was chilling enough to make her shiver.

"Iz, what are you thinking?" asked George.

She turned to him and started telling him her educated guess, and Fred looked over his shoulder to hear her whilst keeping one eye on the snatcher. "Werewolves, we know they're unpredictable. They would kill their best friend if given the chance. That makes them a liability in battle. You couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't kill your soldiers, plus it could only work on the night of a full moon. However, if you have a controlled environment where you have a prisoner and a werewolf alone, and it's hungry, and you can somehow get them to turn on command without a full moon...you get the most terrible torture technique."

"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner," said the snatcher, and she was sure he would've clapped if his hands had been free too. They all turned to him in disgust, and Isobel felt a pain in her side, her anger showing itself through her body. "So we've located the smart one," he bragged, "though looking at the rest of you, that's not a hard thing to be."

She had not wanted to be correct. When she had told them her theory, she had seriously hoped that it was so wild that it could never have been true.

"So that's what you wanted Lupin for?" she asked, stepping forward towards him, "so he could torture poor prisoners and turn them into werewolves?"

"Well, that's part of it," the snatcher shrugged, grinning.

"Well, what else?" said Fred, pointing his wand at him again to threaten him into spilling. The snatcher cowered a little, meaning that Fred had scared him the first time.

"Oh god," said Isobel, finally realising the rest of the plan. "You're not just looking to torture? Are you?"

The snatcher shook his head with an evil smirk, and he ducked when Fred poked his wand forward to get him to stop it.

"Wait, does the Ministry want to create more werewolves? If so, why? They've spent years trying to get rid of them," said George.

"No, they don't want to make more," said Isobel, the pain in her side sharpening the more her anxiety grew, "they just want the prisoners to think they do."

Fred turned to look at her. "I don't follow."

"Of course you don't," the snatcher muttered, to which Fred responded by punching him in the face.

"It's interrogation," Isobel answered him, a look of panic flashing across her eyes, "They are questioning prisoners for information, and they're threatening them with werewolf bites to extract the answers from them. So you either give up the information, and they'll heal you, or you don't, and you either die before infection or turn painfully into a werewolf - at which point you'll-"

"Be killed anyway, because they've just made being a werewolf illegal," said George gravely.

They had heard it on the news today. Whatever rights werewolves had left had been officially taken away, making them an illegal species with a punishment of ambiguity. The newsreader had not told them what the penalty if caught was...but now they knew.

"And that's to say if they even heal you after you give the information up," said Isobel with gritted teeth.

She didn't even want to look at the snatcher but lowered her glance to look at Fred. The two shared a moment, and he told her he believed her without speaking a single word, even though she couldn't be sure she was right.

"How close are they?" Fred asked the snatcher urgently, gripping his collar and pulling him towards him. "Who else knows Remus is here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the snatcher replied. This man was so dumb he couldn't see the fury in Fred's eyes. "But I would say your furry friend should enjoy his last days of freedom before being put in a cage where he belongs."

"Crucio!"

Though he was close to doing it, it was not Fred who cast the curse this time. Instead, Isobel found herself firing it at the snatcher.

She really meant it too, and it had caused her to fire it powerfully on her first try.

How dare he make fun of those poor prisoners and laugh at their torment, and how dare he threaten Remus like that. Though his infliction caused him to turn into an animal some nights, he was ten times more of a man than the snatcher would ever be. She would rather die than see Remus locked in a cage, forced to harm the people who had been his friends and stood by his side, it wasn't right - it was cruel.

Then she got worried...if they ever found out about Tonks and the baby...she just didn't want to think about it.

His piercing screams rippled through their ears with force, and whilst both twins were impressed with her power, she was not. It frightened her. She knew was a powerful witch, all her professors had told her so - she just didn't know that she was capable of committing an unforgivable curse on the first try. Even Fred had trouble, and she always thought he was the reckless one.

It had come to her as easily as any other spell.

At first, it felt good, it did, to inflict pain on the man who believed those horrible things, but then the longer she did it - the more time she had to get over the initial rush and get clear-headed.

She was hurting someone and inflicting indescribable pain. She was torturing another human being...sinking to their level.

She had tried so hard not to get on their level, yet time had a funny way of getting her there anyway.

"Oh god," she gagged as she broke focus. The curse stopped, and the snatcher stopped screaming and fell face flat against the floor. He kept wincing as the lasting effects of the curse lingered, and Isobel suddenly felt rather woozy. She stormed out of the shed and walked into the open air, stumbling over to balance herself on the wooden fence that surrounded the perimeter. Her lightheadedness made her feel like she would faint, and dots started appearing in front of her eyes as she pulled the mask down off her face.

"Hey, are you okay?" George asked her as he followed her out.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she called back to him, trying not to be sick, "I just...I need some air."

"You don't look fine."

"It's okay, I'll check on her, you go back inside," said Fred, walking out of the shed.

"But you need to keep interrogating him," said George, "you're the one who's practised the curse."

"Yeah, and if you leave me alone with him for one more second, I'm probably going to kill him," Fred replied, "let's be honest George, you're the level-headed one here. You know when to stop."

His eyes lingered on Isobel, and he swallowed his saliva like the bitter truth he was starting to see.

"Me and her are different. Our emotions control us too much."

Isobel heard Fred's footsteps approaching her as George returned to the shed. The wet grass from the earlier rain made squelching noises underneath his shoes, and as she tried to catch her breath, he appeared alongside her. He leaned down on the wooden fence, his eyes staring at the night sky, and he didn't seem to mind that she could throw up on him any second.

"I always thought your bark would be worse than your bite," he said as he pulled down his mask and breathed in the night air. "But I was mistaken. You're pretty powerful Monroe."

Isobel stopped gagging. If his statement had done anything, it had confused her enough for her mind to be distracted.

"Thanks," she replied, but it didn't make her feel better.

"So what's got you like this?" he asked, "are you having second thoughts?"

Isobel shook her head. She was only trying to make sense of it herself. It's not like she regretted it, she still agreed with Fred and what they had decided to do, she just felt weird about herself.

"I just tortured another living being," she said, looking up at the trees surrounding them, "and it was just so...easy."

As she went to scuff the grass below her with her foot out of frustration, Fred bent further down to her level, his forearms resting against the sharp would as he shrunk the distance between them. "He angered you, and you're good at charms; it's a natural combination," he told her. "You shouldn't blame yourself for it feeling easy. He made it so. Besides, I don't think you did much damage. You stopped yourself before that could happen."

Isobel winced. She had flashbacks of the snatcher's face and hearing him scream. She knew it would stay with her for a while. "I still felt it, though. I felt him squirm. I felt all the pain he was experiencing in my own body. Merlin's beard, even the screams, my ears are still ringing."

She gagged again, but it was a dry heave. Her side twinged where her scar was in response.

"You're acting like this is the first time you've hurt someone," said Fred, smiling at her gagging. "When you were in the Inquisitorial Squad, you always hurt people."

"Not like this," she replied.

Her memories of the Squad were why she had forced herself to stop torturing the snatcher. They reminded her that, though she had come so far, she had somehow ended up in the same position.

"You must have!" Fred scoffed, "Damn it, when Dumbledore left and old toad face stepped in, you had free rein. Malfoy and Zabini gave it to us the worst, they tortured us with whatever spell they could think of that was legal."

"Well, I'm not them, am I," Isobel snapped.

She knew he was trying to be nice, but she didn't like being associated with what had happened. She had left that all behind her, and though, in Fred's defence, he had not seen her at Hogwarts after she had quit the Squad, he still should've noticed by now that she was nothing like them.

Fred realised he had touched a nerve and adjusted his tone. His uncompromising approach may have worked with her before, but it wouldn't now, so he stepped closer, his eyes analysing her every movement to ensure he wasn't upsetting her further.

"I know, sorry," he said calmly, "I just find it hard to believe this is new to you. After all...you loved giving George and me the quill."

That was now one of her darkest memories. At the time, she hated them so much that she didn't care about giving them pages of lines day after day. She thought they deserved it for not following the rules. But now, especially after seeing the lasting scar she had given Fred at Malfoy Manor, she could only feel ashamed.

She had no right to do it to them, no matter how she felt about them then.

"I did the quills, that's it," she said, hanging her head, "that was all I could tolerate. I never did anything else."

"But the others, they-"

"I know what the others did," she interrupted him, daring to fleetingly look him in the eye as she shamefully admitted her story, "it's not my proudest moment that I couldn't stop it, but you have to believe that I never did any of that."

Fred took in her answer and hung his head. As much as she was adjusting to this new image of him she was having, he was also having to adjust to this new image of her. They had both been wrong about each other and were only now learning it.

It was like meeting each other again, and she found herself wanting his approval. She wanted confirmation that he believed her.

"I never participated in the horrible things they did, and trust me, I tried to stop them from doing it too," she told him, wanting to tell him the truth, "I wanted to quit so many times before I finally did, but, honestly, I was scared. They were my only friends; I had no one except Luna who wanted to talk to me, and I stupidly thought I could save them from going down the same path as their parents. It was one of the many times I was wrong about them...and I hate being wrong."

Fred tried to hide his smile at that last thing she said, but she noticed it any way, and it didn't bother her as she now understood him much better: He wasn't laughing at her pain, he was finding her funny.

And she had to admit, it felt much better than him hating her.

"So what made you finally quit?" he asked curiously.

"They wanted me to join in what they were doing, and even Umbridge was pressuring me to do it," she said, the pair speaking face to face. "They even picked a perfect candidate for me to do my first one on. When I realised who it was, I quit on the spot."

"Who was it?" Fred asked, his eyebrows burrowing into his eyes. "Luna?"

Isobel would've thought that was the obvious choice, but the truth was far more unpleasant. "No," she answered, "Neville Longbottom."

Fred didn't reply as he had been rendered speechless. First, out of anger that Draco and his friends would pick Neville of all people, but also because Isobel had refused to punish the easiest target in Hogwarts.

"I couldn't do it to him," she continued, her lips curling up into a sneer as she recalled the day, "I'd seen the way Crabbe and Goyle bullied him daily. He was so innocent; he never would've done anything to anyone, yet they constantly wanted to torture him. So I lowered my wand and ordered Neville to get out of there. I left straight after him and ensured he got to the common room safe."

"How did they react?" Fred asked. He asked this whilst knowing how they were, but it would surprise him that they didn't retaliate by hurting her.

"They thought I was joking at first, but after a couple of weeks, they realised I was being serious and they instantly went back to treating me like everybody else," she told him, sadly laughing as she remembered just how ridiculous it was, "like I was just another muggle-born, not their friend. Luckily by the time they turned on me Umbridge was gone but the sad thing was that I knew Theo wanted out the whole time, and I almost got him to quit...I just wasn't strong enough to change his mind that was full of family trauma. Imagine how many fewer people would've been hurt if he had just stood up for himself and not gone along with it."

Fred listened to her without judgment, and it was so refreshing. Luna was the only person she had ever been able to tell this to, and while she never thought it would be Fred Weasley she would speak about it with, she was happy to get it off her chest once again.

"So that's why you thought Theo would help us..." he said, understanding why she had been so persistent in those early days. "Because he was different?"

"He never was like them; he was just scared," Isobel replied, "and he proved me right; he gave us the names."

Fred now looked at her differently, and she couldn't quite work out why, except that he now possibly saw her perspective.

"Now I think about it, he was the only one who never punished us like they did," he said, his brown eyes expressing regret, "I should've noticed."

Isobel sighed heavily and sunk into her body. She was now on the come down from the panic attack. "It's hard to notice when you think of everything as black and white," she told him, "I don't blame you. On the outside, I saw them all as the same too."

They both looked up at the sky and watched the stars. There was a clear sky tonight, so there were lots to see, and Isobel wished she had Professor Sinistra's star chart with her to find any constellations. Under them, she felt so small. It made her feel like they were only small objects in this vast world and that their problems weren't as significant as they thought.

"I'm sorry," Fred apologised as his eyes focused on the half-moon shining above them, "I had just assumed you were always doing the same things as them and then quit because you and Draco broke up. I had no idea you stood up to them like that."

This apology made her feel warm, as she hadn't expected it.

"It's okay, I mean it's not like I ever gave a reason for anyone to think any different," she said, "but you know, I don't think Draco and I were never really that together in the first place. I think we just connected because of our combined interest in education and our common enemies, but that was it. He wasn't the reason I quit, but at that point, I knew I had to cut him out for good. He wasn't good for me. It was like he was a drug, and if your theory is correct about the love potion...then that could be more than just a metaphor."

"And did you ever get sober?" Fred asked playfully, "from the addiction?"

"Oh yeah, once you see your ex kill your headmaster and call you a slur, you kind of get sober real quick," she said sarcastically, making him chuckle, "but it still makes me think...if they hadn't chosen Neville that day. Suppose it was someone I hated. Would I have just gone along with it? Would I have done it like Theo just to stay under their spell?"

"Well, would you have done it if it was me?" Fred asked, suggesting a perfect analogy.

Isobel thought about it. She replayed that moment and imagined Fred standing in the classroom instead of Neville, and she didn't feel any different.

"I honestly don't know," she said, "I mean, I hope I wouldn't, but now look at me tonight. That snatcher has only pissed me off within five minutes and I'm torturing him. We hated each-other for years."

"You really hated me that much, huh?" Fred asked, "so much so that you don't know if you would have tortured me if given the chance?"

She couldn't tell whether he was joking or not. He knew their history, how she felt had about him, but his eyes were asking in earnest - as if he believed that she wouldn't have felt like that.

"Didn't you?" she asked him in response.

Fred shrugged and looked away from her, once again looking up at the sky. "Well yeah...obviously," he scoffed, "...I just thought you wouldn't hate me that much because of my undeniable charm."

He made her laugh, which was an achievement considering how bad she felt. However, though Fred had always told her that he told the truth, she couldn't help but think he wasn't telling her everything.

"Well...ditto," she smiled. "I can be charming when I want to be."

She and Fred giggled at each other, accepting their new reality without ignoring their past. If you had told her that six months ago that she would be enjoying a conversation with him, she would've thought you were best to be sent to the insane ward at St Mungo's.

"How did you do it so easily?" she asked, shuffling to the side so that she could face him completely. "I don't see you almost throwing up after you did the cruciatus curse."

"That's because I gulped my sick back down," he joked, turning to mirror her. "I can't look weak in front of him, can I? I just kept thinking about how we needed to do this because if it's not him, it's someone else. I'd rather be prepared, no matter how horrible I felt."

"I know, I know....," said Isobel. Then she glanced at him through the side of her eye. "Would have preferred it if you would've thrown up, though. It would've made me feel better."

Her smile grew as she met his, and he started laughing at her attempt to lift her own spirits. He had done his job. "Oh, really? Well, okay, I'll keep that in mind for next time," he smiled. "I'll even make it extra special for you, projectile and everything."

"Thank you. I appreciate your sacrifice," she teased.

She now felt a whole lot better. She didn't even feel the need to gag anymore. She couldn't hear the screams nor feel what cursing at the snatcher felt like.

Her mind was now preoccupied that this was the most comfortable she had been on this whole trip.

"Do you want to go back inside?" Fred asked, pointing to the house's doors, "It's getting cold out here, and George and I can finish up in there. You can recover and we can go again tomorrow."

"No, it's okay," Isobel replied, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. "You're right. We have to do this. It will only get harder when we battle these people on an even playing field."

They agreed and walked back to the shed, now sharing a more friendly atmosphere than ever before. Fred opened the door and let Isobel go in first, but they couldn't imagine what they were walking in to as they stepped inside.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred asked as he shut the shed door, and both he and Isobel shared the same confounded expression.

They were staring at the snatcher, who was now untied and free, standing on his head and juggling three of Remus's gardening trowels.

"I think I've just learnt how to do the imperious curse," George smiled, pointing his wand gleefully as the snatcher did what he wanted.

Chapter Text

The snatcher stayed in the shed for a few nights after that. Fred, George and Isobel kept practising both the Cruciatus and Imperius curses on him, but none dared to go further and attempt the ultimate spell. They tried to get more information out of him, but I was to no avail, the more they tortured him, the weaker he got, and he just became mute after a while and found it easier to say nothing. They found out his name was Gideon and that he was from Croydon, but they learned nothing of value apart from that. They had started to give up, and none of them felt as motivated to keep him anymore.

One good thing came out of it, though. They were all working as a team, and their relationship had blossomed into somewhat of a musketeer situation. They were learning their strengths and where they could come in handy. Isobel was the best at interrogation, as she knew how to get the answers out of Gideon and ask the right questions. Fred was the best at intimidation, as his size and confident demeanour allowed him to pose a real threat, and George was the mediator who put them both in their places when their emotions led them to get carried away. In terms of the curses, they were all getting pretty good and could execute them mainly on the first try.

"Maybe we could take him back to the shop; he could be useful as a worker," said Fred as the three of them set up the cutlery for dinner. "You know, when we build it back up. We were looking for a shop assistant and wouldn't have to pay him."

"Yeah, that's called slavery," said Isobel as she straightened his fork placement one step behind him in the small dining room. "That's against the law, I'm afraid."

"Oh what, and him kidnapping people isn't?" he replied.

"I don't know. I think we need to let him go soon," said George, bringing in a jug of pumpkin juice and placing it in the middle of the crocheted tablecloth. "He's becoming a dead end. Iz, you're good with memory charms, right?"

"I mean, I've read about them," said Isobel, "never done one though."

"Never done what?" asked Remus as he entered the room.

This was the first time they had seen him that day. Ever since the news had broke that werewolves had been deemed an illegal species, he had become like a hermit and had not taught them any more lessons. He was always in his and Tonk's room, with the curtains closed, doing who knows what. Isobel could only imagine how scared he must have felt, but the three still hadn't found the right time to tell him how much danger he was in.

"A Patronus," said Isobel, thinking quickly on her feet as she placed the final plate down, "I've never learnt to do one."

Fred and George shared a look as if they had been impressed she had lied so easily.

"Oh, well, I suppose I could teach you how to conjure one," Remus said as he sat down at the head of the table, "I was able to teach Har-Harold that in his third year."

Fred shifted uncomfortably as Remus winced at himself. Yesterday, on the hourly news bulletin on the radio, it was announced that a bounty had been placed in Harry Potter's name. Anyone who mentioned him would get an instant visit from snatchers or a ministry representative. He couldn't afford either.

"Well, or we could teach you," said Fred, saving Remus, who looked uncomfortable with the idea of having to go outside again, "we got taught that in Dementors Army."

Dumbledore's name had also been flagged.

"Oh yeah, that would be great, thanks," said Isobel.

Remus lifted the ends of his lips into a forced smile. He would not fight Fred and George doing the job for him. "That's a great idea, you can do that tomorrow whilst we're out."

"Out?" asked George as they all joined him in sitting at the table, "where are you two going?"

"Oh, um, Order business," said Remus, who now seemed to be making up his lie. Isobel knew her professor; he meant everything he said, and though he talked calmly and slowly, he never hesitated. The use of the word 'um' as a way to pass the time to think of his answer was never in his vocabulary. So she sensed it was something private that they weren't to know.

"Are you meeting with the mum and dad?" Fred asked, his back straightening in his chair. "Have you heard from them? Are they okay?"

"No, it's not with them, and I'm afraid I haven't heard anything either," Remus answered tiredly.

Fred's body sagged in disappointment, and he rested against the wooden backing of the dining chair. Isobel glanced across at George, who had the same deflated air about him. Since they had left the burrow, they could not communicate with their parents at all. They thought it was too risky because they were family. However, now they were with members of the order, they had expected to be able to hear an update.

"Dinners ready!" said Tonks with a smile as she came into the dining room carrying four plates across her two arms and one on her belly, which Isobel thought quite impressive. "Steaks all' round with potatoes and veg."

She dished the plates out, filling the room with the incredible smell of home cooking. Isobel's stomach rumbled as Tonks put her plate down before her.

"Cooked perfection as normal," Remus joked as she passed him his rather red and bloody-looking steak.

They all sat down and began to eat, this being the only time of the day that everyone could be quiet in this house without being asleep, and Isobel ate hers at a slightly more enthusiastic pace. She had a secret she hadn't shared with Fred and George yet, and she had hoped to keep it that way. It was a special day, and it had gone how she wanted it to - peaceful and undisturbed. She didn't want anything to ruin it.

"Tonks, this is great," said Fred as he ate his third potato.

"Yeah, I could eat three plates of this," George echoed.

Tonks was pleased with their compliments, and took it in her stride. "No problem. I thought I'd do something given the occasion."

Isobel quickly swallowed her food as she otherwise would've spit it out or choked.

"What's the occasion?" George asked.

"What, you don't celebrate birthdays in your house?" Remus laughed as he plucked a piece of raw steak from his teeth.

Isobel curled herself towards her plate, making herself as small as possible.

"Birthday?" Fred asked. "Whose?"

Isobel kept her head down and reached for her cup of pumpkin juice. After the steak, her mouth felt dry and salty.

"Don't you know?" Tonks replied as if it was common knowledge, "It's Isobel's."

And there it was. The penny had dropped. She had hoped to avoid it all day and not make a big thing of it, but now her fuss-free birthday would be no longer.

"It's your birthday?" George asked her from across the table.

"Since when?" Fred added.

"Since the 22nd of November, seventeen years ago," Isobel said airily, still staring at her drink, "well...eighteen now, I guess."

"And how come we didn't know about this," George demanded like she had held valuable information from them.

"You haven't exactly been on my best friends list, have you," she told him, finally bringing her head up to face them.

"But these two know."

"Yeah, because Remus knows my birthday, Fred. He helped Luna make me a badge when I turned fourteen. Though I'm surprised he remembers."

"Having a great memory is the one thing being a werewolf didn't take away from me," Remus bragged as he tipped another massive chunk of meat into his mouth. "That and my sewing skills."

"Well, what are we doing here, then?" said Fred. "We have to go out and celebrate."

"No," said Isobel, "honestly, we really don't need to-"

"Monroe, it's your birthday," Fred interrupted, commanding the discussion, "and it's your first birthday with us. We never miss a birthday."

"Damn right," said George.

"Well, we can celebrate here," said Tonks. Isobel thought she was happy to have something to celebrate too. "We can crack open a bottle and put on some music..."

"No, no loud music," said Remus firmly, "it'll attract attention."

"Then we go out," said Fred positively. "When we were flying in I remember seeing a pub down the road. We can go there."

"No, no going out," said Remus. "A dinner is nice enough."

They could tell he didn't want to ruin their fun. He was just their guardian now and wanted to keep them safe.

"Oh, come on love," said Tonks, feeling the urge to support the youngsters, "it's only up the road, and they've been through a lot. They can go for a couple of hours to have some fun."

Isobel tried to speak up. This was why she didn't want to say anything in the first place. "I don't really need to celebrate my birthday-"

"They are not going out," Remus told Tonks, "it is not safe."

"We'll be fine. We're armed," said George, patting his wand in his back pocket.

"Yeah, we can protect ourselves. Besides, who's going to be looking for us at a muggle pub in the middle of nowhere," Fred argued, "we'll be out for like two hours maximum."

"You only turn eighteen once," said Tonks, nodding to Isobel as she tried to plead with her husband, "You remember your 18th, don't you?"

Remus sighed. His wife always knew him best, and this was something he couldn't fight her on. "Sirius and James threw me that surprise party," he remembered, "dressed up as their favourite part of the moon cycle - thought it would be funny."

Isobel's hand reached for his, reassuring him that she didn't want him to feel guilty. "Honestly, I'm fine. We do not have to go out. I'm happy here. I'm with my friends. That's all I need."

Fred and George turned their heads towards each other and exchanged bamboozled stares. She had never referred to them as her friends before, and they couldn't believe they had heard her correctly.

"No, Dora is right," said Remus, now softened up by the memory from his childhood, "You can go for a couple of hours; I'm sure nothing will happen. Just finish your dinner first. We don't need you coming back drunk off your faces, and you need to promise to come back the minute you spot trouble."

All three of them crossed their hearts that they would.

***

"Why didn't you tell us it was your birthday?" George asked Isobel an hour later as they walked down the sparsely lit cobbled street towards the pub.

"I don't know," Isobel shrugged. "Given everything going on, I just didn't find it appropriate to mention it."

"All the more reason to bring it up," said Fred, "as Tonks said, you're only 18 once. We deserve to have some fun."

"Yeah I don't know how much fun you think we're going to be having, have you ever been in a muggle pub?" Isobel asked.

They weren't like wizard ones, and she wanted to manage Fred and Georges's expectations.

"It's a place with cheap alcohol," said George, "that means it's fun. And with the spare muggle money Tonks could find for us, we're in for a good night."

They approached the pub at the end of the lane. As Isobel had expected, it wasn't much, a white thatched cottage that appeared to have seen better days. Inside, she could hear music, which was a surprising addition. Most muggle pubs she knew would be playing a football match, the clientele being drunken middle-aged men.

"Voila, your birthday celebrations await," said Fred. He opened the door for Isobel to step inside, which she carefully did.

The music, it turned out, was coming from a karaoke machine, which was placed on a curved stage in the corner in front of a small dance floor. A few people were dancing, some old couples, some people who were too pissed out of their heads to notice nobody was with them, and to the far left, there were a group of young adults who were celebrating their own thing. Isobel guessed that in a small town such as this, their choice of nightlife was limited.

"Why does it smell like that?" asked George as he stuck his nose into the air and sniffed.

Isobel smiled at him, having been proved right. "It's years of smoke clinging to the walls and alcohol spilled onto the carpet," she told him, "you get used to it after a while. It's not like they serve butterbeer here to make it sweet."

"Talking off, I'll get the first round," said Fred, "you guys find a place to sit. What do you want?"

"Malibu and coke," Isobel answered as she removed her coat.

Fred and George looked at her blankly.

"It's a drink with fizzy bubbles that tastes like coconut," she told them. "You'll probably want to ask for Jack Daniel's, a double. It's probably the closest thing to firewhisky you'll get here."

George touched her head and ruffled her hair like a dog. "Aw, you're just one big muggle encyclopaedia, aren't you."

"Besides, how do you know we drink that?" Fred asked.

"I caught you smelling of it more than once, remember?" she told him, quickly flattening her hair down again, "after all those Gryffindor parties I was never invited to."

"Which is why we're making up for it now," Fred smiled, accepting they had left her out quite a bit, "two Jacks and Malibu coming up."

As Fred approached the bar where a short bald man was serving, George and Isobel looked for a table. It was pretty busy, as it was a Friday night, so the only thing they could find was a small circular table to the right-hand side, next to the karaoke machine where the bad singers could be heard at full volume. The smoke from the cheap multicoloured lights behind the stage made the air relatively dry.

"So, what's the deal with this?" George asked, leaning into Isobel's ear. "Is it like a competition or something?"

Isobel looked at him humorously, amazed that he hadn't heard of karaoke. "Kind of," she laughed, "except the only winners are members of the audience that can't hear very well."

"Are you going to do it?"

"I think it's best for everyone if I stay here."

Isobel put her coat behind the chair and adjusted her burgundy blouse, another present from tonks from her younger years. She liked it, with its flowy sleeves and low neckline - she felt like a girl from a seventies band. Luna's clip had come with her, securing small pieces of her hair to the back in a half-up-half-down style.

"Here we are," said Fred, three glasses in hand as he set them on the table. "I think that barman had training from the Hogs Head; he wasn't very friendly."

"He could probably sense you weren't local," said Isobel. "Most people around here probably don't wear jackets lined with silkworm."

Fred looked down at his leather jacket and the extremely colourful silk lining inside. He immediately removed it to reveal his plain black shirt. "Well, maybe they should," he said. "It wouldn't hurt to add some style to this place."

George took his drink and handed Isobel hers, raising his arm to give a toast. "To Isobel, on her eighteenth birthday. Who I'm sure imagined this day to be anything but what it is, with anyone else but us."

"I can drink to that," Isobel giggled.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're with friends, though, right?" Fred asked, "Isn't that what you said?"

"It was more of a...general term," Isobel said with a smile.

"Nope, you included us in that," said Fred, grinning, "you said friends."

"Yeah Iz, you're friends with Weasleys," George joked, joining in the fun, "you admitted it."

"Fine, okay, yes, that's what I said." Isobel laughed. "Oh god, you're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Nope," said George.

"Never," said Fred.

"Well," said Isobel, admitting defeat and lifting her glass higher, "a toast to unexpected friendships, bad birthdays, and the end of the world."

"Cheers," said Fred and George as they clunked their glasses with hers. They all took a sip of their drinks and slammed them on the table, the burning spirits running down their throats.

A boy got up from the group of teenagers opposite them and took to the stage, the rest of his friends cheering him on as he flicked his warm blonde hair out of his eyes. Like most of the boys at his table, he was wearing a blue striped polo shirt from his rugby team, and the girls they were with all smiled up at him like he was a teen idol. He was attractive, there was no denying it, but as per the karaoke rules, any good looks he had were about to become redundant once he opened his mouth to sing.

"Oh, here we go," said Fred, sniggering at George. "This should be fun."

"Ten Galleons says he sounds like a squeaking mandrake," George smiled.

Isobel rolled her eyes at the brother's judgement and turned to watch the boy, who had no idea a bet had been placed on him being so terrible. She had to confess that being here made her feel normal, and she already felt her spirits lifted. The boy flicked through the music choices and then smirked as he tipsily selected a song. As he adjusted the microphone to his height, he looked their way, and Isobel caught his eye. He smiled at her, and she blushed, causing a few girls at his table to glare at her and for George to narrow his eyes.

"Bloody hell," he scoffed under his breath as he sipped his whiskey.

"What?" Fred asked. He was the one whose back was more towards the stage and hadn't seen anything.

"He's a slick git too," said George.

Fred looked over his shoulder to see the boy still staring, and then he looked at Isobel, who was returning the favour.

"She'd eat him alive," he muttered, shaking his head and laughing.

"Alright, everyone, I'm going to need you to sing along to this one," the boy announced into the microphone, his hands in the air, "my name is Josh, and I'll be attempting not to ruin this absolute classic."

The stereo in the pub started blasting out an instrumental track, and every muggle in the building cheered with happiness as they recognised the song. Isobel did too, it was one of her mum's favourite songs.

"Come on, Eileen!" Josh shouted with half the crowd as the song's opening lyrics appeared in blue on a screen in front of him. "Poor old Johnny Ray..."

"He actually isn't bad," Isobel shouted to the twins as Josh sang, incredibly, rather in tune.

"What is this song?" George asked, his face screwing up as if they were at a heavy metal concert, "it's sounds like something Seamus would come up with when he's drunk."

"This is muggle music."

"It's crap."

"I like it," said Fred, tapping his foot.

"You do?" Isobel asked.

"Yeah, well I mean I would," he said, "if it didn't have someone with the voice of a petrified Mrs Norris singing it."

"Oh, come on. You're both just jealous because he can sing," said Isobel, sitting back in her chair to watch the performance. Part of her thought they may not have liked not being the centre of attention for once.

Josh continued singing, and the crowd slowly filled the dance floor. All his friends had gotten up and had started drunkenly dancing some form of square dancing, and a lot of the older adults had put their arms around each other and had begun to do a kick line in time with the song.

It was a merry time, and Isobel was loving it.

Soon, Isobel and George were among the few sitting down. Josh had seen this and, in his intoxicated state, decided that just couldn't do. He jumped off the stage, the microphone luckily cordless, and headed straight towards them. He approached the table with a cheesy grin and stuck his hand out, inviting Isobel to join him.

"Come on, would you be my Eileen?" Josh asked, winking at her with the play on words.

Isobel glanced at Fred and George, who were trying not to laugh.

"Or do I need to ask permission from your brothers first?" he asked, noticing them snigger.

"Friends," George corrected him. "Not brothers."

"You do need to ask our permission though," said Fred with an expression intended to mock.

Isobel stared at him, her eyes narrowing as she didn't know why he was trying to intimidate the poor boy.

"I'm joking," he said, his face relaxing back to normal. "Go on, go come on his Eileen or whatever the song says."

"And look after her, she is the birthday girl after all," George warned him.

"Birthday? Oh, I'll take great care," Josh smiled as Isobel took his hand. He pulled her up off her seat, leading her to the dance floor as the song peaked and a slow clap was building.

George leaned on the table, and he and Fred kept their eyes on her, watching as the boy led her through the crowd to start dancing.

"That is the second time she's been plucked out of nowhere to dance by an overly confident guy and we haven't stopped it," he said. "The first one was our brother, and look what happened there."

"Eh, I think we can rest easy," said Fred, and George observed him from behind, "as far as Charlie's concerned, they were never that serious. He knows she'll move on. Besides, that guy isn't even her type."

"And you know her type?" George asked. He had many questions about what Fred had just said, but this was the first one that came out of his mouth.

"I know what it's not," Fred scoffed, intently watching Isobel. "The girl has made some terrible choices, but she has standards."

"So you're okay with her dancing with him?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because the last time I saw you have that look in your eye was when she was dancing with Lee at the Yule Ball," George told him.

George had taken a leap based on a hunch, but it was just that, a hunch. He didn't know for sure and was curious about what his twin would say. George watched Fred turn back around to face him, picking up his glass and downing his drink in one. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, dismissing him entirely.

Fred immediately decided he needed a refill and offered to get George one. George refused, curious as to why his brother had given him such a vague answer, and as Fred walked up to the bar, George let out a knowing smile.

Isobel was oblivious to this and was having the time of her life. Josh was a stranger, and that was all he would be, so she was free to have fun. She sang the rest of the lyrics with him and chanted with the muggle crowd, dancing like a cowgirl as he swung her around, linked in his arms. It was hot under the lights, a brief relief from the cold hitting the windows inside, and the smoke became more of a mist that hung low under the ceiling. Eventually, the song finished, and just as expected, Josh bowed to her before leaving to return to his friends. She was happy about that, as she wasn't ready for anything else. Not with Charlie still in the back of her mind.

"Can I cut in?" asked George as he walked up to her side. A nineties dance classing now played from the speakers as an older man in tight jeans and a tie-dye shirt started his turn at the machine.

"Of course," said Isobel, "I believe this will be our first time."

"Yeah, well, I always ensure I dance with the birthday girl. They're usually in a good mood and willing to let go of their inhibitions," he smiled. He then realised what he had said when Isobel looked at him funny and tried to shake it off, "But don't get the wrong idea, I just see you as a friend."

"You're such a Romeo," Isobel sighed as she placed her hands on his shoulders, "I don't know why you're single."

They danced for a while, throwing each other around the small dance floor as the alcohol-fuelled their joy. Fred joined them after a couple of songs (and a couple of drinks), and three of them danced the hours away whilst befriending the locals who couldn't be more welcoming. At one point, they had been invited into a whole family celebrating Grandma's eightieth birthday. True to his word, George danced with the Grandma, and Isobel danced with the young children wearing sparkly dresses whilst Fred had been adopted by the grown-up sons, who tried to teach him how to do the worm for half an hour. Drinks flowed, shots were downed, and George eventually started to admit that muggle music wasn't so bad.

In fact, George liked it so much that he was on the Karaoke stage at 11 p.m. on the dot, about to sing.

"Blimey, this is one for the history books," Fred laughed as he watched with Isobel from their table. "One thing Weasleys will never be is singers. He has a voice like a dying rat."

"It's his birthday present to me," Isobel sniggered with him, "he promised he'd sing a muggle song of my choice. My choice just so happened to be a perfect song to sing when you're pissed."

The song "I would do anything for love" started playing, and the pub crowd stood all around the dance floor, cheering him on. Clearly, he didn't know the words, as he was always a beat behind and a note off-key, but the muggles just put it down to drunkenness and cheered him on for support.

"Perfect," said Fred as George attempted the operatic nature of the song, "good work Monroe."

He held out his fist, and she bumped it with hers, both of them now so friendly with each other under the influence of strong spirits and pretty lights.

"So what can I get you for your birthday?" he asked.

"No, you don't have to get me anything," she smiled, playfully dismissing him with her hand. "We've only just got on non-hating each other terms."

The alcohol was getting to her now, and she felt delighted. Like in a buzzed trance that also made her calm and cheerful.

"Oh come on, I have to get you something," said Fred, crossing his arms on the table as he turned towards her, "got to be something you want. Do you want some food? There are crisps behind the bar but none of the good flavours...why the hell do muggles put prawn cocktail flavouring on them?"

"They're actually quite nice," Isobel told him, "but okay if you insist, let me think."

She stared at Fred, George's less than dolset tones in the background, and her fingernails rippled against the table. It was her birthday. This was one day he couldn't say no to her. There was a way she could finally get what she had always wanted to know if she played it right.

"Fine," she said eventually, "I want answers."

"To what?"

"Anything I ask you."

"Okay..." said Fred, slightly afraid as their history could lend itself to many questions, "My present is you get three questions. Spend them wisely."

Isobel leaned in closer so they could hear each other better, and he did the same.

"Why did you open the shop?" she asked.

"Really?" he replied, his voice rising in confusion. "That's what you want to ask?"

"I have my reasons. Go on."

This one was entry-level. Easy. She didn't need to know this, but she was curious, and it would get him talking.

"To make money," he answered.

This was not nearly detailed enough. She needed to make him open up.

"Oh, come on. It has to be more than that," she said, rolling her eyes. "No one who wants to make money would think that a joke shop is the way to go."

"Okay, fine," he said, "we wanted to make people laugh. After years of experiencing what happened at Hogwarts, we wanted to give people an escape and a little bit of fun. We have a one hundred per cent satisfaction rate, and I think you'd agree."

She thought this was a nice answer.

"You think I'm satisfied?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fred shuffled forward, George now only a blur at the back of his head. "Aren't you? You're way less uptight than you used to be."

It could've been the lights, but Isobel thought she could see a sparkle in his eyes.

"Okay, fine. I'll give you that one," she said. Fred and George's influence hadn't had a harmful effect, and she was enjoying their company tonight.

"Second question," she continued, "have you ever regretted breaking the rules?"

This one was a leading question, and his answer to this determined if she braved the real one she wanted to ask.

"I have regrets," he said, "but breaking the rules isn't one of them. It's been mandatory every single time, and in fact, it wouldn't even be necessary if the rule makers had a bit more of an open mind."

His answer was nothing short of what she had expected. Cocky, devoid of any vulnerability, and it blamed someone else. Yet she couldn't help but be endured to him, taking his answer as a joke.

"Then what do you regret?" she asked, her shoulders leaning forward in his direction.

"Is that your third question?"

"No, it's an addition to my original one."

"That's not allowed," Fred refused, teasing her as the whisky of his breath travelled mere inches to her nose. "Don't be greedy, Monroe."

"But it's my birthday...." said Isobel in an attempt to get him to talk.

She was so close, and though her younger self would have hated her for it, she found herself shamelessly batting her eyes. Boys like him were simple, and now his walls were down, and she could use this to her advantage.

"Monroe I'm not spilling my deepest secrets to you," he whispered to her, looking downwards at her before meeting her eyes again, "im not an idiot like Nott, I'm not falling for you or your charms."

Disappointed, Isobel glanced down at where Fred had been looking. Her leaning forward had exposed her cleavage a little, which meant he had seen more of her than she had intended. She sat back up again, her cheeks turning red, and Fred smirked as he gave her privacy to adjust.

"Last question," he said as he looked up at the ceiling, "go before I change my mind, and no distractions this time."

"What did you say to Cedric to make him punch you?" Isobel asked him, flat out asking the question as she had lost most of her dignity.

Fred's smugness evaporated, the colour slowly draining from his otherwise cheerful face. She knew this would've been a tricky question, but if anything, he looked scared that she'd asked him.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asked her.

"I've always wanted to know," she said, "and he never told me."

"Yeah, because I told him the truth, which was something he didn't want to hear," said Fred. "And you won't either. You'll think bad of me no matter what I tell you."

"Try me," Isobel challenged him.

Fred shuffled in his seat and huffed. He didn't want to tell her, but he had no choice. He had promised to answer three questions.

"Fine," he said, "I just reminded him that I was the one who had bothered to look over his best friend all night whilst he was wiping the tears of his sore-loser girlfriend. Whose problems, I'm afraid, were minor in comparison to yours, and he didn't even tell you the truth that the team were angry, which was what you needed to know. He made the wrong choice, and I reminded him of it. Turns out Cedric didn't like my answer and retaliated by injuring me too."

After all this time...that had been the explanation.

That?

He had not been mean, rude, or said anything horrible about Isobel.

If anything - in his weird way - Fred had been defending her.

Isobel's face went blank as she tried to process what he had told her with a mind confused by alcohol.

"What? Not what you expected?" Fred asked sarcastically. He took another sip of his drink to wash his honesty down.

"No," Isobel replied softly, her eyes watching his every move. "Wait, so you visited me in the hospital?"

"Visited?" he responded, "I slept in the chair beside your bed."

"But I got told-"

Isobel stopped mid-sentence. She realised she had never asked if anyone had visited her, so when she wasn't told anything, she assumed no one.

"I thought the first people that came were Cedric and Luna," she said instead.

"That explains a lot," he sighed, "I used Harry's invisibility cloak; it was at the height of the whole Sirius Black thing, so I had to sneak in. I took it off when I was in there, and Madame Pomfrey saw me. I told her I had come to say sorry, but you were asleep so she said I could either leave or wait for you to wake up, she didn't know when you would. So I waited for you to wake up, but...I fell asleep, and George had to come get me in the morning."

"Yeah, I was asleep because you'd knocked me unconscious," Isobel breathed as Fred's answers were hitting her like truth bombs to the chest. She couldn't help but get slightly defensive. "You hit me with a bludger."

"I know, that's why I felt so guilty," he said, "but Cedric never told you that?"

"Never."

The two sat silently, Fred stealing glances at her to check how Isobel was feeling about this news.

"Did you like the flower at least?" he asked to break the silence.

Flower...what flowe-oh.

"That was from you?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he replied, shyly smiling, "I asked Neville if he had any muggle flowers. I'm useless at that stuff. In my stupid head, I thought that would make up for it. It obviously didn't, given how much you hated me after."

It was a lot to take in, especially since George was attempting to sing both parts of the meatloaf song at the same time.

Fred had visited her.

He had tried to say sorry.

The flower was from him.

Meanwhile, Cedric had kept it all a secret, a secret that had fuelled her hatred for the Weasleys for years.

"Well, fuck me," she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands and stroking her hair back, "now I'm the one that has to say sorry. I thought you were a dickhead who didn't care that he'd hurt me."

"Yeah, you did get worse with me after that come to think of it," Fred chuckled sadly, "but don't be too apologetic, because whilst you were thinking I was a dickhead, I thought you were just another stuck-up girl who thought I was a piece of shit and refused my apology. So we're even."

Fred's blunt demeanour caused them to laugh at themselves, and the air lifted. The pair revelled in how stupid the situation had been.

"It's so weird how life works," said Isobel, slumping her head into her hand as she leant his way. "If I had just seen you that night, I might have forgiven you."

Fred mirrored her body language, the alcohol and revelations now beginning to make them both a tad sleepy. "Oh, only might?" he chuckled. "I don't think we should dwell on what-ifs; they're no good for anyone. Besides, if you had I would've missed out on your witty insults throughout the years."

"And your dubiously targeted pranks," Isobel agreed. "What did you ever intend to get out of all of those anyway? Did you really intend to mess with me that much?"

She'd hoped that though her questions were used up, he would let her have another one.

Fred's eyes lazily looked down towards her mouth, and Isobel guessed he was at that night's stage where he soon needed his bed.

"Maybe I just wanted to get your attention."

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!" George sang from the stage as he pointed towards their table. "Happy Birthday, Dear Isobel, Happy Birthday to you!"

He was now looking way drunker than either of them, and the crowd was singing along with him, ending in a big clap for Isobel. She had to pull herself up away from Fred, who started singing with his brother as he started a second chorus, but as she smiled, she wondered if Fred had been joking.

Because she had assumed he was...but he wasn't laughing.

***

"So, did you get his number?" George asked her as they walked back to the Lupin house in the cold.

"Whose?" Isobel replied.

"Joshy boy."

"Oh no, you know I didn't," Isobel scoffed, "he's so not my type."

"See, I told you," Fred told George overhead.

George stuck his tongue out at him as Isobel kicked a pebble on the pavement in front of her. "And are we not forgetting Charlie-wait, what do you mean I told you?"

"I knew he wasn't your type," Fred shrugged. He tilted his head back as his skin breathed in the crisp night breeze.

"And how do you know my type?" Isobel asked pointedly.

"That's what I said," George chimed in, jumping onto the road.

"That guy was normal, a simpleton," Fred said into the open air, "that's not your type. You don't do normal. You like extremes."

"Extremes?"

"Yeah, look at the evidence," he told her, "Draco, albeit a purist torturing git, is deviously smart and has that dark and mysterious vibe the girls, somehow, go crazy for. The kind of guy that makes girls think they can fix him."

"Hey, don't put me into that stereotype," she disputed, shoving him in his arm to make him stumble into a bush.

"Well, okay," he said, regaining his balance, "let's go to evidence B, my brother. Who never settles, is spontaneous, rides dragons, and can flirt as easily as he can breathe. He's dangerous, like Draco, yet you were drawn to him."

"You call it danger, I call it excitement," said Isobel snootily, "and besides, you're forgetting one key point with both instances."

"Oh yeah, and what is that?" Fred asked her as they approached the house's front garden.

"I liked them because they were confident enough to make the first move," she said, teasing him with her eyes, "I find that very, very, attractive."

"What the hell have you three been up to!" shouted Remus as he opened the front door.

"Alright, chill out Moony," said George jokingly as they walked up the path, "we've only had a couple, okay we're a little bit later than we said, but-"

"I'm not talking about you drinking!" Remus shrilled before reminding himself to be quiet. "Merlin's beard and with Nymphodara in her condition...it's so irresponsible...get inside at once."

Remus was angry, red-faced angry, and the three of them did not say a word as they rushed inside the house. As soon as they were inside, Remus slammed the door and turned to them all, free to shout at them as much as he liked. "What on earth were you thinking!"

"What?!" asked Fred innocently. "What could we have possibly done while we were out of the house for a couple of hours?"

Remus said nothing and beckoned them to follow him to the dining room, which had its door closed. When they were all gathered in front of it, he flung the door open, revealing the snatcher tied to a chair, Tonks pointing her wand at him.

Fred, George and Isobel collectively gulped out of shock.

"Oh," said Fred, laughing with fear as he couldn't help it, "so that's what we could've possibly done."

Chapter Text

It was safe to say that Remus and Tonks were furious that night after they had found the snatcher trapped in the shed. Remus had immediately sat them all down for a serious talk whilst Tonks erased the snatchers' memory and sent him on his merry way through the woods - against Fred, George and Isobel's protests. They told them everything, about why they had kept him and what they had learnt about the werewolves, but the two older wizards were having none of it. Remus scolded them all for bringing danger into their house and for learning the unforgivable curses without his permission, and Tonks just stood behind him and nodded sternly. Some part of her might have been impressed, but she certainly didn't show it if she was.

"But we had to keep him, otherwise he would take you!" Isobel pleaded to Remus's better judgement, "We were protecting you!"

"I do not need protecting, especially not by three wizards in my care!" Remus shouted, "I ought to write to your parents Isobel, if only I could trust Owl posts to be safe...I don't know what's gotten into you. This is most unlike you to do something so reckless, so selfish, so-"

"Hey, if you're going to have a go at someone, have a go at me," Fred interrupted. He had taken his fair share of tellings off in the past, and he could see that the heat had gotten to Isobel after Remus had mentioned her parents. "It was my idea."

"Yeah, and mine," George lied, "we corrupted her."

Sat inbetween the two brothers, Isobel tried not to smile under Remus's scowl.

"Corrupted," Remus scoffed, laughing at the fact that George had used this word, "I dare say it's a bit more serious than that boys. Isobel, is it still your ambition to become a legislator?"

"Yes," Isobel said meekly as she glanced quickly at Tonks. She had never told Remus this, just her, so she must have told him.

"Well then, you better hope the council never hear of this!" He told her, "taking your own prisoner? Torturing them? The only courtroom you'll be in is for your own trial for Azkaban!"

Isobel hung her head out of shame. She was hardly shouted at, even by her parents, as she had never done anything that warranted it. Now she regretted everything - the snatcher, learning the curses, all of it. Her body went numb and her stomach fell heavy from humiliation. She had lost her aim in the whirlwind of emotions. Everything had been about revenge, and she had forgotten about what would happen when the war was over.

"Well, you all have to be punished, birthday or not," said Remus, bringing his lecture to a close.

"Remus.." Tonks spoke, lightly reaching for his arm, "their hearts were in the right places-"

"No, Dora. They need to learn right and wrong, like we all did."

He gave her a dour stare before returning the three solemn faces sat down in front of him.

"You will stay in your rooms until you can be trusted to leave them. Isobel, you stay in yours, Fred and George, you take ours."

"But Tonks is pregnant," George protested, "she needs a bed."

"I'm good on the sofa. Once I graduated, I did sofa hopping for years," Tonks smiled sweetly back at him.

It was the first time Isobel had ever felt lowly of her favourite teacher. Kicking his pregnant wife out of bed just to keep them locked up? It wasn't the idea of a level-headed man. Something was happening more in his mind than just punishing them.

"And boys, I will contact your parents as soon as it's safe," he told them.

"Are you going to tell them about Charlie?" Fred asked immediately.

"No, your parents don't need more worry," said Remus, and this relaxed Fred, "but they'll need to know soon. Hopefully we can get him out to safety before then."

So that was it. They had been locked in their rooms for the last two days, and were provided with their meals by Tonks in their rooms - which was the only other person they saw in the meantime. Isobel was used to being on her own, so she didn't mind it so much, but Fred and George on the other hand, were going crazy and had resorted to talking to her through the walls.

"Try bumping the window."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because they'll hear it!"

"Oh, come on, Iz, seeing his face all day is annoying."

"What do you mean? It's your face!"

George huffed as Isobel continued to refuse anything that the twins asked her to do. She was disappointed in herself that she had angered Remus and Tonks, and she didn't want to disrespect them any further by trying to escape their punishment. They were fair people, and they needed to be mindful of that.

"George, just leave her alone," she could hear Fred say through the wall. "She's probably reading or something."

"Tell me about it. It's like being with her anyway with you in here, you've had your nose down in that book for the last three hours," George replied.

"Because I'm trying to do something useful whilst we're stuck here," said Fred. "It wouldn't kill you to pick one up yourself."

Isobel climbed off her bed and shuffled towards the wall. Fred's book had sparked her curiosity, and she agreed that they could at least be learning something if they were trapped there. She wanted in.

"Where did you get it?" she asked, "the book."

There was a moment of silence, and then some quiet shuffling.

"Tonks gave it to me," said Fred, his voice much nearer now as he too had moved closer to the wall. "It's about Dark Magic - she slipped it to me before we got locked in here. I guess she's not as against us learning how to protect ourselves as Remus is."

Isobel rested her head against the dust covered wallpaper.

"That's cool," she said, "I wish I had one to read. I'm going mad with boredom in here."

"You don't have a book?" Fred asked.

"I mean, I do have one, but it's not new," she replied. "It's The Great Gatsby. I just packed something small because I thought this was going to be a quick trip. I've read it so much I could basically quote it, so it's not really what I need to distract myself."

"What is it about?" he asked.

Though she had been in the wizarding world for years, it still stunned her that even the most open-minded wizards didn't know basic things such as classic Muggle literature.

"It's about a man who loves a girl so much that everything he does in his life is to win her heart. He gets rich through con schemes, shady dealings, lying about who he is, and then throws these big parties in the hopes that she one day returns to his life. They met when they were younger and were in love, but then he had to go to war, and he thought she would never marry a poor boy like him. So he changed, did everything he could to get her attention, and even bought a house directly across from her to keep her close, but in the end he...well let's just say it doesn't work out."

"Why not?" Fred asked.

"She's married to a rich guy," Isobel explained with a groan, "he's horrible to her, but that's who she picks - she'd rather have the comfort and security of money than risk it for love."

It could've been from how long they had been isolated from each other, as the twins needed their minds constantly stimulated, but she sensed he was genuinely interested. "Sounds horrible," he said, "so what happens to Gatsby?"

"Sure you don't want me spoiling it for you," she asked, "in case you ever read it?"

"I'd rather you tell me," he replied. His voice was so clear now it was like he was in the room. Big head must've been resting against the wall too.

"He dies," Isobel sighed, "tragic ending really. Gets shot by the girl he loves'-husband's-mistress's-husband."

It really was a tongue twister.

"How the hell does that happen?" Fred laughed in shock.

"Just a bunch of misunderstandings," Isobel giggled, "that's what makes it a classic - the drama of it all."

"Damn. He sounds like the unluckiest man in the world."

"Yeah, but he also chases a girl for decades who he never stood a chance with. His optimism and delusion are what killed him."

"I don't know," said Fred, "I can kind of understand it."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said, "maybe he thought he wasn't good enough for her, so he wanted to wait until he was in a better position. He had to have at least hope that she would change her mind, right?"

"True," Isobel considered, "but trying to buy someone's love is never a good start to a relationship, is it?"

Fred chuckled and the light vibrations through the wall tickled her cheek. "Not, it gets you shot apparently."

"As entertaining as this little book club is, I'm getting duller-brained by the minute," said George, reminding them both that he was there too. "Isobel, please open the window so I don't have to see these same four walls anymore. Or if not, can you please try to find something in your room I can entertain myself with?"

"I could think of something," Fred said snidely, but he didn't say it quiet enough for Isobel not to hear the crude comment.

"Alright," she huffed, and though she had enjoyed talking books with Fred, she lifted herself off the floor. Starting her investigation of the room, she started with the Chester drawers. There were only a few old clothes and potion bottles in there, so she looked under her bed. A broken wizard's chess set, a couple of pairs of tatty shoes, and an old briefcase comprised the contents under there, so she moved on to the wardrobe. Isobel had hung the small clothes she had in here, but she hadn't taken much notice of anything else filling the space otherwise. There were various trinkets, photo albums, but nothing George could entertain himself with. She was starting to think he would have to make do with the broken chess set when she found a large but worn-out cardboard box on the very top shelf.

"Umph," Isobel moaned as she reached up to get it. The wardrobe was bigger than her, and she could only touch the top of it with her fingertips. She used what little she had to shimmy the box off the ledge, and eventually, it fell into her hands. It was heavy, so she brought it down to the floor.

"What's that?" asked George. "I heard a thud."

"I'm not sure," she replied, lifting the box flaps open.

It was very dusty, but Isobel saw a piece of machinery inside: a metal box with two round speakers built in. She gently pulled it out and blew on the dust to examine it further. Now, up close, Isobel could work out what it was. She had seen one just like it in the Lovegood house.

"It's a radio," she told him. "A wizarding one."

"Oh great, we can hear the news," George replied sarcastically, "that will cheer me up."

However, Isobel knew that the radio could play something other than the news, and she placed it on the floor, fiddling with the 'on' switch. The sound of white noise filled the room as she turned it on, and as she turned the frequency button, faint hints of music came in and out of sound. This was a wizarding radio, so she expected to tune into the Wizarding wireless network.

"Any requests?" she asked the wall.

"Oh yeah, if you can find some Celestina Warbeck," said Fred sarcastically, "that won't make me want to bash my head against the wall."

Isobel chuckled, as she had heard much of that singer's music while at the Burrow, and kept looking.

"Got any spellbound?" George asked.

She took a moment from searching and paused. "You like spellbound?" she asked pointedly.

"Yeah, why not?" George sniffed, "They make good music."

Being a band comprised of all females, Isobel had thought that someone like George wouldn't have listened to them. This was another eye-opening thing about him that she hadn't known before.

"Or the weird sisters," George added. "Fred likes them."

"Since when?" she heard Fred ask in response.

"The Yule Ball," George answered, "they played there, remember? It was a big night for you."

Isobel kept on fiddling.

"Big night for me, how? Everything got ruined. No offence Monroe."

"No offence taken," said Isobel as she flicked onto channel twelve—still white noise.

"Yeah, do you not remember?" George said, "You finally found the answer to that thing that had been nagging you in potions."

"A lot of things nagged me in potions, you have to be more specific."

"Oh come on; you finally found out who belonged to-"

"Oh my god," said Isobel as she switched to channel thirteen and finally heard music emerge from the radio. It was clear, and it was loud...and it was also Muggle music. "Is that...Kate Bush?"

"Who's Kate Bush?" asked George.

"Sounds hot," Fred commented.

"Shhh!"

Isobel silenced them as she turned up the sound to hear it better. There was only one reason she would be hearing Muggle music on a Wizarding radio...and she didn't think it would exist anymore. The song kept playing, and she waited to see if her hunch was correct. Kate Bush's vocal talents graced the room for thirty seconds more, and silence followed.

Perhaps she thought wrong.

Because nothing came.

It was total silence apart from the sound of white noise.

Isobel had hoped to find Xeno's old radio line. When writing the Quibbler, he had set up a secret radio station for informants to give him their information anonymously. It played Muggle songs to throw off the Ministry and any unknowing witch or wizard that had stumbled across it, but those he trusted knew that there were three minutes of silence between each song, and in that time, they could converse. Silver Dove was his code name, his favourite bird.

With no voice within a minute, Isobel immediately turned the radio off, and all white noise ended. She slumped into herself, cross-legged on the floor, another hope taken away from her as soon as it came.

She should've known that Xeno would destroy that line as soon as things at things got worse.

"Hey, what happened to the music?" asked George, "I was enjoying that."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't have you enjoying yourself," Isobel replied.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked, "Is it broken?"

"No," she answered. However, she was now questioning if that was the case. "But it might need cleaning to get better signal. Why don't we just talk whilst I do it, I told you about my book Fred, won't don't you tell us about yours?"

"Nah, it's not that interesting," Fred said immediately. "As far as I can see, there's nothing in here that we don't already know, except a few tweaks."

"I'm sure it is," said Isobel. She put her hand inside her cardigan sleeve and began rubbing the dust off the radio. "Go on."

"Yeah, Fred, come on, share with the class," said George sarcastically. "Or if that book is dull, you can always talk to her about your other one."

"Shut up, George," she barely heard Fred mutter.

"What is it?" Isobel asked, "The other one?"

"Dont you dare," Fred whispered to George.

"Why not?" George whispered back, "I thought you two were friends now. Friends share."

"I will kill you."

With only four walls, joining in with George to tease Fred was very appealing.

"Oh come on Fred, tell me," Isobel begged, abandoning the radio and crawling to wall with a cheeky grin on her face. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing," Fred shouted defiantly. "I don't have another book."

"Is it a dirty one?" Isobel asked teasingly. " You don't have to be embarrassed Fred, it's a perfectly acceptable genre of literature."

"It's not dirty," Fred replied.

"Ah, but there is another book," said Isobel.

"Oh, come on, Fred, tell her the truth," said George. She could hear him giggling to himself. "Parts of it are dirty."

"It's most definitely not," Fred told him through gritted teeth. "Don't listen to him Monroe."

"Then why can't you tell me?" Isobel asked. "Is it illegal?"

"It should be," George commented, "nobody should ever have to read the thoughts in his brain."

There was a noise of a thud, and George groaned, like Fred had thrown the book at him.

"You keep a diary?" Isobel asked, trying to keep a laugh in to the best of her ability. "Since when?"

"Since I've had no privacy to explore my thoughts," said Fred begrudgingly. She could imagine the look he was giving George right now. "Which I guess has been forever in this family."

Fred Weasley, a diary writer. She would never have believed it. He expressed his feelings through anger or sarcasm, but she never called him the type to write them down. She wondered what type he would be, a Sylvia Plath or a Bridget Jones. She hoped for the latter.

"Oh, now you have to tell me about it," said Isobel, almost scratching at the walls to get inside. "The inner workings of Fred Weasley's mind...you wouldn't even find knowledge that valuable in the restricted section."

"Piss off Monroe," Fred laughed. It was lighthearted, he didn't mean it, and it made her feel like she was finally in on the joke. "It's private, for my eyes only."

George laughed obnoxiously loud, no longer wounded by the dark magic book thrown at him. "Pfft, if that's what you think," he said, "Charlie and I have both taken our turns reading it."

"What?" Fred asked, hoping he had heard wrong.

"Yeah, Charlie wanted to have some of the pages framed. 'Proof you have a heart', he said."

Fred's voice became less carefree. "Tell me you're joking."

"Nope."

"When? I always keep it on me."

"Not while you're sleeping."

"But it has a padlock on it. How did you even get in?"

"We've shared the same bedroom for the last twenty-odd years. Do you really think I don't know that you hid your key amongst your under-?"

"Okay, ladies present," Fred interrupted, his voice getting more high pitched the more George revealled, "so you've read everything?"

"Not everything. You kept scaring us that we'd wake you up. Your snoring is getting worse, by the way."

"...And Charlie read it?"

"Yep."

"Same parts as you?"

"Roughly the same."

"So, how much did you read?"

"Enough."

Isobel thought that George was purposely being vague. Potentially for her benefit.

"How much is enough?"

"Up until we left Hogwarts. Nice use of the everlasting charm by the way, the pages just kept going and going and going. Lots of detail. Especially for our last couple of years there. I think you should show Iz, she'll find it fascinating...don't you think?"

There was quiet for a moment, and Isobel pressed her ears against the wall as much as she could, thinking they might have been whispering.

"Monroe, get away from the wall," Fred ordered.

"Why?" Isobel asked, alarmed at his instructions.

"Because I don't want you getting in the way when I throw my brother through it."

Fred had warned her that he never lied, and she had every reason to believe he intended to send George flying. A person's diary was private, and anyone, even a twin, reading it was a serious violation of privacy.

Footsteps hit against the floor as George tried to escape his brother's grasp, and Isobel shuffled away until she hit the back wall of her room. Fred was muttering things to George as he chased him, and all Isobel could do was try to listen as the bedroom started to vibrate. Unable to catch him, Fred must have gotten his wand out as soon as the sound of glass smashing and tables breaking started coming through Isobel's ears. The violent sounds grew louder, and suddenly, they were coming from everywhere - and not just from Fred and George's bedroom.

"Cut it out!" Isobel shouted to the boys, but her voice travelled unheard under the noise.

It was just a brotherly fight over a diary; it didn't need this much angst.

"Come on, Fred, it's only a diary! Remus and Tonks are going to hear you!"

Then, Isobel heard pounding on the floorboards below her as the room started to shake like an earthquake. Wondering how Fred and George could've got down there, Isobel ran to the door, nearly stumbling over her feet with giddiness as the room shook her around. She grabbed the doorknob and tried to twist it, but no amount of force could make it turn. The doorknob remained solid, unmoving, no matter how hard she twisted it. Even both hands couldn't do the job.

"This isn't funny, Fred!" Isobel called out, banging on the door. "Let me out!"

But nothing came from the other side.

Isobel started to worry, as even Fred and George wouldn't lock her in this long if she had shown signs of worry or stress. She banged on the door again, and the house was now having explosion sounds coming from all corners of its walls.

"Let me out! Can you hear me? Let me out!"

"What's going on? This isn't funny!"

"I get claustrophobic!"

On her seventh hit on the door, the house fell still. There were no more bangs or sounds of breaking furniture, and the rooms lay silent as the earthquake-style shaking had stopped. Isobel carefully wrapped her hands around the doorknob and twisted it, the latch clicking open and opening easily. Something had prevented her from coming out, and she wanted to know why.

Stepping onto the landing, she saw nothing was out of place up here. Everything seemed perfectly unaffected. She took a step further, and then the sound of the next door opening accompanied her, Fred and George joining her in confusion.

"What the hell was that?" said Fred.

"I don't know, I thought it was you," Isobel replied. "I couldn't get out."

"Neither could we," said George. There was a concern in his face that was matched by the other two.

Fred led the way down the thin corridor and down the stairs, and with each step they took the stairs began to show the tell the tale of what had happened. It started with little scratches on the walls, then the wooden bannister was chipped, and then the carpet beneath them became splintered. However, that was nothing compared to what they saw when their feet touched the ground floor. They could only describe it as a demolishment. No piece of furniture in the living room remained intact, from the sofa being split into two and the coffe table smashed into thousands of pieces. Paintings that once hung on the walls were now in tatters on the floor, ornaments from the fireplace flung into every corner of the room, and scorchmarks now covered the entireity of the ceiling - giving the appearance of the aftermath of a fire.

The worst of it all...there was no sign on Remus or Tonks.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Fred asked, taking in the distruction, "it's like a dragon ran through here."

"This is no dragon," said George. His voice was grim. "Only spell marks make holes that particular."

Isobel noticed something shimmering next to one of the pieces of sofa and walked over to it. As she bent down and wiped the soot away, she found the answer to their questions.

"A Ministry badge," she said, picking up the metal pin in her hands and showing it to the boys, "same as the snatcher's."

Her eyes lifted and automatically met Fred's, who she looked to as a guide. If he was worried, then she knew she was right to be too. And she knew she was right to be as he appeared sick-stricken.

"You don't think..." he began to say, but then he didn't quite have the heart to finish it.

"Someone locked us in our rooms," Isobel told him, "and something tells me it was to keep us safe from whatever caused this."

"Yeah and I bet a hundred galleons our rooms were soundproofed too," Fred nodded. "TONKS?! REMUS?!"

He shouted their names as he started marching through the ground floor of the house, checking in any place he could to see if they were hiding. George and Isobel gave eachother sympathic expressions, already knowing that their situation was dire with Fred even having to look, but it made him feel better to do it anyway. Remus and Tonks were gone - and they had been stolen in broad daylight.

"What do we do?" George asked Isobel, "do we go after them?"

"No, Remus and Tonks protected us for a reason," Isobel answered him, standing to her feet, "besides we'd only be giving the snatchers the advantage if we went straight after them..."

It was the advice she had been given when Luna had first gone missing. It felt the right thing to say but she still didn't know if it was true.

"...Merlin's beard why did they lock us upstairs, we could've protected them!"

"REMUS? TONKS?" Fred continued to shout from the dining room. There were slams from his opening and closing cabinet doors.

"But Remus..." George muttered gravely, "if they've taken him to Semperess...the experiments..."

"We're going after them," said Isobel, sternly reassuring him that she didn't want to just let this happen, "we just need a plan, and a good one at that. All of ours have failed so far and we can't afford another mess."

She started to think, her brain wurring away as she turned the Ministry badge with her fingers like a coin.

"You don't think it was our snatcher do you? Like he somehow remembered us or the memory charm didn't work?" George asked, reflecting her own thoughts. It was obvious they were to blame, for bringing the snatcher into the house in the first place.

"No, Tonks is gifted, she wouldn't mess that up," Isobel stated, "no he said he had back up right? That word would get out and a group would come...wait that's it."

Isobel's head lifted as she saw a pot of tea smashed on the floor, the leaves spilling out of it as it had been thrown in the fight. A memory popped into her head.

"What is?" George asked.

"The radio..."

Tealeaf...that was Xeno's password for channel 13. She had forgotten it. Of course the radio line wouldn't have worked without it.

"What?"

"The radio!"

Isobel squeezed past him and ran up the stairs to the second floor. She sped to her bedroom and dropped herself next to the radio she had found like a tonne of bricks. Once down, she immediately began the process of turning it on again.

"What are you doing?" George shouted as he followed her into her room.

"Finding channel 13," she replied.

He entered her bedroom and slumped against the doorframe. "What are you going to do, talk about it on the evening news?"

"No," said Isobel, turning the dials, "We're going to stop being alone in all this. Have you seen a microphone anywhere?"

George shifted as he thought. "I think I saw something in the shed once, from the wedding, but what's it for?"

"Go get it," Isobel commanded.

He didn't question her further, as he recognised that there was no point. George left to find it, and Fred passed him on the way up the stairs. He was taken back when he saw Isobel acting so frantic, shaking as her hands tried to get the perfect balance for the channel, and kept his distance.

"Please tell me what you're doing so I can either support it or know you're going crazy," he said, his eyes narrowed.

"You know how when Xeno started writing against the Ministry? For the Quibbler?" Isobel told him.

Fred nodded.

"Well, he had to get his information somehow, didn't he? And written informants were too risky...so he set up a radio channel where whistleblowers could anonymously speak to him. I don't know how he got them to talk about it, it all just spread through word of mouth, but the point is the Ministry never knew about it!"

"So...how does that help us?" Fred asked. He didn't show whether he thought she was crazy or not, but he did step further into the room.

"It helps us because we have an undetected line to a pool of witches and wizards who are against the Ministry, and that means at the moment, against Snatchers and Death Eaters," she told him enthusiastically, becoming drunk on stress, "If we tell them about Remus and Tonks, hell even Luna and Charlie, they can know, and then spread the message. We can create a whole line of communication and maybe get a team together...well, if I can get it up and running again!"

"And say what? We're a big massive target so sacrifice yourself and help us please?" Fred asked, kneeling down to her level and trying to reason with her, "Isobel, even if you get it up and running, these informants won't help a random voice on the radio and endanger themselves for us!"

Isobel froze for a moment as she tried to ignore the fact that he had called her by her first name for the first time. "Aren't you the one who is always saying 'what's life without a little risk'?" she replied. "Well, come on Fred, it's time."

George walked in with an old microphone in hand, and when he handed it to her, Isobel plugged it into the radio. She twisted the dial to channel 13, Xeno's channel, and then she looked back at Fred before she turned it on.

"So?" she asked him, "are you with me or are you just going to sit there?"

He observed the determined look in her eyes as George stood between the two of them. It seemed that right now, he was the conservative one that was being hesitant against her recklessness.

"I'm with you," he told her, and he sat down crossed legged opposite her.

Now with his backing, she switched on the microphone and tapped the radio with her wand to give it the password

"Tealeaf."

The white noise instantly fell quiet.

"Hello?" Isobel spoke into the microphone. "Hello, is anyone listening?"

Nothing.

"My name is Isobel Monroe, and I am a friend of Xenophillius Lovegood. Code name Silver Dove. Over."

"You can't say your name!" said George as he crouched down to join them in a circle and covered the microphone, "what if someone bad is listening in!"

"We need to build trust!" Isobel whispered, pulling his hand away, "the only way to do that is by being honest!"

She spoke into the microphone once again, making sure she annunciated her words so that they were as clear as possible.

"My name is Isobel Monroe. I'm a muggleborn and I am meant to be in my last year at Hogwarts. I'm sorry to report that Xeno and his daughter Luna have been kidnapped and sent to the prison Semperess. You will not hear this on the news because the Ministry keeps it secret. Other names you may not hear are Charlie Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, and Remus Lupin—the latter having just been taken by snatchers who will undoubtedly bring them to the prison. I need help to spread the word and get them out. Is anyone on the other end? Over."

She had sent the message, now all they had to do was wait.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

"Now we see who's out there," said Isobel with a heavy breath.

They waited a few seconds, all of them transfixed on the radio as if staring at it would speed up time. The longer the quiet lasted...the longer they started to give up hope.

"Transmission received," spoke a muffled voice from the speakers. "This is a Scottish Terrier. I will pass on the message to Golden Eye and Blue Feather."

All three of them smiled as Isobel's plan had worked. They had found someone. To his credit, Fred did appear radically impressed.

"Hey, that voice sounds familiar," George whispered as they celebrated.

Isobel grabbed the microphone, elated with the fact that someone was on the other end. "Thank you," she said, looking at both Fred and George as she thought about what to say next, "if you feel safe enough, would you mind sharing who you are? Over."

This time, the communication came much quicker than the last.

"Only the best Gryffindor Captain Gryffindors ever had," said the voice.

Fred and George shared a glance.

"Excuse me, that's incorrect," said a female voice as she entered the conversation. "This is Golden Eye, and I am the best Captain Gryffindor has ever had. Over."

"Angelina," Fred whispered as he muted the microphone. His tone was slightly shaky as he said her name. "It's Oliver Wood and Angelina. I would know their voices anywhere."

"They were helping Xenophillius?" asked George, "But why didn't they tell us?"

"We haven't exactly kept in touch, have we?" Fred replied.

George chuckled quietly. "You and Angelina being forced to talk? Oh this should be fun."

Angelina Johnson and Oliver Wood, now those were two names Isobel hadn't heard in a while. She didn't admit it out loud, but their names brought a familiar comfort - even if Angelina's name did bring her a sour twinge inside her stomach.

"It's good to hear from you," said Isobel into the microphone, "Blue Feather, are you there?"

It was the other name Oliver had mentioned. She was curious to know who else was part of this.

"Yes, I'm here," spoke a French woman. "Thank you for your broadcast, it's good to hear you are safe...I am with shark tooth...but he is shocked at the news. He cannot speak. Can you confirm if his other brothers are safe Isobel?"

The way the woman said her name...it brought her joy.

"Fleur," Isobel whispered to Fred and George excitedly, "and shark tooth must be-"

"Bill," Fred and George said together.

"He was part of this with Xeno?" said Fred, "we had no idea."

Isobel spoke into the microphone once more. "I can confirm they are both alive and well," she said.

"I am glad to hear it," said Fleur, "it is unsafe to speak your name much more, so what should we call you if we hear anything?"

Isobel quickly thought on her feet.

"Mariposa," she said, naming herself after the type of butterfly Luna's clip was modelled after. She then looked to Fred and George, calling them in to speak and turning the microphone towards them.

"Uh, you can call me rapier," said Fred.

"And me Tantacula," said George.

Isobel didn't question what those names meant.

"Fred? George?" spoke Angelina in shock.

"The one and onlys," said George.

"Brothers?" said a man's voice. A new one, presumably Bills. "Is that you?"

"No Death Eaters could keep us down Sharktooth," Fred commented proudly.

"Thank Merlin," said Bill, his voice shaky and unsettled, "I'll tell mum and dad. They've been worried."

"What the hell are you doing with Isobel Monroe?" Oliver asked. Having been out of the loop, it would come as a surprise. "Isn't she Malfoy's friend?"

George chuckled, flashing Isobel a smile. "It's a-it's a long story."

"I'll say," said Isobel.

"Shes on our side, it's fine," said Fred, "trust me, she's good. Almost killed Malfoy the last time she saw him."

Isobel greatfully nodded in his direction. "Thank you," she mouthed.

Fred winked friendily back.

"Oh bloody hell, welcome to the team then Monroe," said Oliver, "always thought you were a cracking shot."

"Thanks. Can I ask what you were talking to Xeno about?" Isobel asked.

"I'm afraid that's classified."

She was a bit disappointed in that, but she understood. She could understand why Bill would be trusted to be an informant, but two barely graduated Hogwarts students? She couldn't see what information they could possibly have that was important.

"So what do you need? How can we help save our brother?" asked Bill.

"And everyone else Bill!" Fleur corrected Jim in the background.

"We need spies, and lots of them," said Fred, taking charge, "we need to find out how to get in to Semperess undetected. Can you help us?"

"Of course," said all the voices in unison.

"Just tell us where to start," said Oliver. "Anything for you guys."

"We think we've located that Semperess is on the south east coast," said Isobel, "at least that's what Lee worked out right?"

"I think so," said Fred, "I still have Charlie's map, I can check."

"Wait," said Angelina, now suddenly agitated, "you've seen Lee, but it's been radio silence on me for the last year?"

"Not the time Angelina..." George muttered as Fred rolled his eyes.

"Especially you Fred, not a single letter or anything. Did you not think I could help you or something? Did we or did we not agree to remain friends?"

"Help me," Fred mouthed to George.

"Help yourself, she's angry at you not me," George mouthed back.

"Anyway," said Bill, who had a personal stake in this and did not care for friendship reunions, "I can probably get a few old friends to scout around, say they're looking for artefacts. When should we next contact you by? Are you safe? Can we talk on here?"

"Yes," said Isobel, who was finding Fred being scared of Angelina quite entertaining, "we're staying out for a couple of days. We'll be doing what we can from here too."

She said this without conferring with Fred and George first, but thought it was the right thing to do. If Snatchers had been here and never saw them, then they wouldn't return, thinking they had cleared the house already.

"As soon as you find out something, come on here, one of us will always be waiting," said Fred.

"Okay," said Bill, "we better be going now anyway, too long and we risk getting detected, you lot stay safe now, over."

"Well will," said George.

"I've got family in the south east, I'll see what I can find out," said Oliver Wood, "don't get in to too much trouble now, over."

"We won't," Fred laughed.

"And Isobel, keep them in line," said Angelina sassily, "they need a strong women's guidance now I'm not there anymore, over."

"Will do," said Isobel. "Over and out."

Isobel turned off the microphone and all three of them sat back into themselves. The radio had worked, they had found Xeno's line, and she couldn't be happier. They weren't alone anymore, and without adult supervision and team that was willing to do the work, they could take serious action.

She just hoped that the information they ended up finding could be proved useful.

"Well..." sighed Fred, "that was unexpected."

"I know, I didn't expect to hear those voices coming out of there," said George.

"No, I meant Monroe having a great plan."

Isobel gave him a glare, but it quickly melted into a smug grin when she saw that he was joking. "Shut up," she told him as she kicked him playfully for the jibe.

"How long do you think it will take, for them to find something?" George asked.

"I don't know," said Fred, "but with that lot on the case, it's going to be soon."

Time was the only currency they had. And with more and more people being taken...they were running out. They needed this to work.

"We'll take turns watching," said Isobel, "day and night. As soon as someone has any piece of actionable information we move, agree?"

"Agreed," said Fred and George.

"Can I just add one condition though?" Fred asked, wincing as he raised his hand. "If it's Angelina, can one of you two take it?"

George shook his head as Isobel couldn't help but do the same. "Scared of an ex?" she taunted him, "didn't have you down as the type."

"You would be too if your ex was Angelina Johnson," said Fred. His face was a little scared. "I didn't exactly treat her well."

"Well that's your own doing, I told you that you were an idiot at the time," said George. "But fine, I'll reply if she calls...I always was her favourite anyway, even when you two were dating."

"No I will," said Isobel with the biggest grin on her face, "I personally would love to hear the stories she has to share."

Chapter Text

The following two weeks were filled with nothing but waiting.

Waiting for a response.

Waiting for information.

Waiting to hear from anyone at all.

The one thing that didn't wait was the weather. Autumn had now turned to winter, and the chill in the air had turned the grass to frost. The roof of the cottage was now blanketed with a thin white sheet. Winter had come, and they had been on the run for a whole season.

After Tonks and Remus's capture, Isobel, Fred, and George put their heads down and worked to put the house back together. Whether it had been out of courtesy or out of guilt, it didn't matter. None of them stopped that night until everything was back where it was and nothing was broken anymore. Once they were done, they sat in the living room with the radio on the coffee table, making small talk until they heard something.

But they didn't, not one word.

So they lived.

They made food, practised spells, shared stories, and slept on a schedule. After everything that had happened, they needed regularity, and someone was always awake to keep watch just in case.

In a way, they'd become their own little dysfunctional family.

"It'll be Christmas soon," said George as he brought a hot tea pot upstairs.

It was washing day, and Isobel and Fred were upstairs changing the bedsheets.

"What a depressing fact," said Fred, who had his chin on a pillow as he pulled a case on, "but we could probably do something for it. There's a nice market stall down the road. They'd probably do a nice ham, turkey, or whatever we fancy."

"And would you know how to cook it?" Isobel called out from her room. She had just finished pressing her sheets and was taking the old ones off the bed. "You know, without burning the place down?"

"Hey, I'm a good cook," Fred shouted.

"Then why was it just George and me whilst we were at the shop?" she asked.

"Because he's not a good cook," George whispered as he bought her a china cup filled with tea. "Milk and one sugar, right?"

"Correct as always," Isobel smiled as he put it on her bedside table.

George smiled, as he had remembered rightly. Isobel was learning that acts of service were how he showed her care, and it was in the little things that he showed friendship. "And for dinner, do you want cheese or tuna?" he asked.

"Cheese, please."

"And you, Fred?" he shouted to the other room.

"Cheese, I'm not putting fish on a jacket potato, are you mad?"

"Alright...some people like it."

Isobel got out her bed sheet as George went back downstairs and lifted it above her head so that it fell to the floor. The radio, which had been playing music for the last half an hour, suddenly rang the tune that signified the six o'clock news. Like every night since Tonks and Remus were taken, Isobel had become numb to it.

"And the headline story tonight. The Ministry's new appointments promise to crack down even harder on the issue of muggleborns, with the removal of trials for any Muggleborn witch or wizard that snatchers capture. Prisoners will now be taken directly to Semperess, where their sentence will be decided.

So far, no prisoner has escaped the condition of ongoing service with no tangible end date.

It is reported that as many as one thousand witches and wizards are now in custody at the prison, with the conditions dire and labour output high. The numbers continue to rise by the day, and the head of the prison, Lucius Malfoy, has commented on the matter, saying that they are working to increase the capacity of the prison to hold any number of so-called "imposters of our community" that is needed. He told our reporter today that things are looking up for the Wizarding World and that Britain is moving towards a brighter, purer future.

He refused to comment when asked about his endorsement of the wizard commonly known as you-know-who."

"Huh. They finally found something he refused to comment on," said Fred as he appeared at Isobel's doorframe. "Need any help?"

Now that her ears weren't attuned to the radio, Isobel realised that with the numbness, she had also been frozen and was still holding up the sheet against her.

"Sure," she said, pulling the sheet down to see him. "Two is always better than one."

Fred walked towards her and gestured for her to give him two of the corners. As she handed them over, she realised that the burgundy colour of them matched his jumper perfectly. Things like that made her smile.

"Right, I'll hold the bottom two down while you latch the top two, which will stop them from pinging back," he told her.

She followed his instructions and took the top two corners. Fred placed his down first, and then Isobel did hers second. As he had predicted, it worked.

She was impressed.

"Domestic tips," said Isobel as they looked back to admire their handiwork, "you continue to be full of surprises."

"Well, when we moved out, we had to learn," he chuckled. "I don't think we appreciate the house-elves' help enough at Hogwarts."

He then picked up a decorative pillow that Isobel had thrown on the floor and placed it on the side table. She saw that his mind had briefly gone somewhere else, somewhere sentimental.

"I don't think I appreciated many things at Hogwarts enough."

Isobel considered asking him what he was thinking about, but that would mean asking him to open up, and she wasn't sure if he was in that place with her yet. So instead, she started a new conversation to stop the atmosphere from getting awkward.

"One thousand witches and wizards..." she sighed sadly as she picked her uncovered duvet off the spare chair, "all in that terrible place."

"I know," Fred replied, and without asking, he took the corners of the duvet cover and opened it up with her. "It makes my blood boil. How are they just getting away with it? Just talking about it on the news like it's okay."

"Everyone's scared to speak out," Isobel stated.

Everyone, except the families like the Malfoys, was now related to a muggleborn. Or even if you weren't, you had someone you cared about who was one. Speaking out meant attention, and attention meant the magnifying glass was on you.

"I'm surprised no muggle has noticed it," said Isobel, "coming across across a castle housing a thousand prisoners would certainly raise a few eyebrows."

"I guess someone's worked out how to put the Hogwarts protection on it," Fred suggested, "makes it appear to them as ruins."

With Fred's hands holding the corners inside the duvet cover, Isobel could wriggle the sheet down to cover the whole thing. It was much easier with two people.

"You know, I never understood how that worked," she said as she began fastening the buttons at the bottom, "because the muggles I knew growing up loved old historical ruins, no matter how bad they appeared, it was part of the British holidays. So I thought people would always try to go inside anyway."

"Really?" Fred snorted, "I can think of better things to do than visit some old ruins for my holiday."

"Didn't you go to Egypt?" Isobel asked in return.

She remembered Ron bragging about it when they came back for their third year.

"Yeah, because I was dragged," said Fred, acting like a guy who was too cool for family holidays, "we'd never been abroad before, and it was...somewhat interesting."

Isobel thought he found it more than somewhat interesting, but she kept it to herself. "Well, my parents' speciality was holidays within the country. Mum was scared of flying, so we couldn't go anywhere else, and we just drove around the countryside seeing historical place after historical place. In between we visited seaside towns and little gift shops. It was great."

"Past tense?" Fred asked.

"What?"

"You are talking about it in the past tense," he said, "Do you not go on holiday with them anymore?"

She never thought she would speak with Fred Weasley about this. After accusing her of being a rich, spoiled brat at the Yule Ball, she had never wanted to tell him the real story.

"Oh, no," she said, shyly looking down, "once I met Luna, I've been spending the holidays with her ever since. I visit home for Christmas, but that's it."

"How come?" he asked. He was filled with questions today, and whilst Isobel wasn't displeased with his interest in her, she wasn't ready to answer all of them either.

"They said they wanted it that way," she answered truthfully.

She had finished fastening the buttons, and the duvet was secure, so they placed it on the bed together. Isobel insisted on tucking it in herself this time, and so she did just that; however, when she reached across to do the furthest point, her ribs twinged up in a cramp. It caused her to fall on the bed and hunch over in pain.

"Ouch!" she huffed, grabbing her scar over her jumper.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Fred asked, his face plastered with concern at her sudden pain.

He noticed her grabbing her side and became more worried. "Have you pulled something?" he asked, and then his face winced as he had to ask, "Is it...girl cramps?"

"No, it's fine," Isobel breathed. Him calling it that made the pain easy to cover up. "It's just, ouch, this area is just sensitive, it cramps sometimes when I strain."

Relieved that they didn't have to get too personal, Fred's shoulders lowered in intensity as he sat on the bed next to her. "Let me take a look, I used to deal with George's Quidditch injuries all the time."

"No, honestly, Fred, it's fine," she panicked, "it's okay."

He could not see it. She had hidden it from him this long.

"Don't be stubborn, Monroe. Come on, you're in pain," Fred said lightly as his fingers grazed the bottom of her jumper. "I remember some healing techniques from Madame Pomfrey. Don't worry; I'm going to watch my eyes. I'm not a pervert."

"Fred-"

Despite her refusals, Fred lifted her jumper enough to see the bottom of her scar. Isobel knew it was game over as soon as she could feel the air on her skin. He had seen it, and there was no going back now. She stopped wriggling as he stared down at it in worry.

"What the-"

Knock. Knock.

The house fell silent as Isobel and Fred lay still, and George stopped preparing the garnish downstairs in the kitchen.

There had been a few knocks at the door the past couple of weeks, and luckily, every time it had just been a muggle trying to sell something or talk about the upcoming local elections. Being quiet had caused them all to leave without any stress, but they were still waiting for the one time the visitors weren't so friendly.

Knock. Knock.

"Oi, come on lads open up! I'm freezing my pants off out here!"

All three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's Oliver Wood," said Fred.

"He's here?" Isobel asked, and then her eyes grew bold with excitement, "that means he's got news for us!"

She pulled her jumper back down to cover herself and bounded off the bed, heading to the door with a pounding in her chest.

"Wait, Monroe!"

"What?" she asked as she stepped back into the doorframe.

"Aren't you going to deal with that?" Fred asked.

The shock had made her forget her pretences, and the truth rippled out of her before she could regret it. "Fred, I've been dealing with it for four years," she told him, "I think I can handle another day."

As the two made their way down, George was the first to the front door. He came running, opening the door to pull their visitor inside quickly.

"Oliver!" he said as he pulled the tall, brown-haired man in for a hug. Oliver hugged him back, the frost on his jacket slowly melting in the warmth of the house. "How did you find us?"

"I got the address from Bill," said Oliver, "you mentioned you were here, and though you didn't want to tell us over the radio, Bill knew the Lupins' address."

"Yeah, we didn't tell you for good reason," said George, "it's dangerous for you to be here."

"I like my chances," Oliver replied.

Isobel ran down the stairs to the ground floor, and Fred was only a few steps behind her.

"It's so good to see you," said Fred, taking Oliver in a brief, friendly embrace. Fred wasn't a hugger, and even if he was, Isobel knew why George was friendlier with Oliver than the two. In the stands of Quidditch matches, Isobel used to see Fred and Oliver fight over the direction of play. "Though I'm a little surprised."

"Feelings mutual," Oliver chuckled. "I didn't think you boys could get taller. You'd give the beaters on my team a run for their money now."

Oliver then turned to Isobel, and he gave her a weird look she wasn't used to. It was from someone who barely knew her but had obviously heard everything that had happened in Hogwarts. He had known about her and Draco for a start.

"Miss Monroe," he greeted her, holding out his glove-covered hand for her to take. Isobel placed her hand in his, and he lifted it to kiss it, a greeting that pleased her, with the exception of his cold lips. "I don't think we've ever properly met off the pitch."

"It's never too late to build relationships," she replied to him, as George and Fred looked at each other with humorous looks. "I found that out with these two."

"Yeah, you're an unlikely pair, Miss goody two shoes and the chaos twins," Oliver joked.

"How come you're here?" Fred asked, wanting to stay on course.

"I have some news. Too sensitive to tell over the radio due to the circumstances, I'm afraid," Oliver explained. He unzipped his large winter coat, and George gave him a hand to give it to.

"What circumstances?" George asked.

Oliver bit his lip, a sign that the information was sensitive indeed. "It involves your brother and my former roommate," he told them both, "Percy."

At the mention of the name, Isobel understood why Oliver had come. The other Weasley, the brother Fred and George hated the most and were estranged from, the brother who tried to arrest them, including his own blood, and who was on the Ministry's side.

Family business as personal as theirs wasn't to be said in a format as frivolous as over the radio.

"You better show me where we can all sit down," said Oliver, seeing Fred and George's hollow expressions in their reaction to the news.

"I'll put on the kettle whilst you guys catch up," said Isobel, knowing that this visit was suddenly more important for Fred and George than it was for her. "How do you take yours, Oliver?"

"Strong," he replied, which told her nothing, yet she understood. Her dad was just the same—he liked the tea bag, no sugar, and the least amount of milk possible. To her, it was foul, but everyone always had their own approaches to tea.

Isobel entered the kitchen and put the kettle on, hearing the boys' voices fade as they entered the living room. She placed tea bags inside china cups, and once the kettle had boiled, she picked it up and poured the water in like muscle memory, filling it up just enough to leave some room for milk.

Percy Weasley. What the hell would Oliver have on Percy Weasley?

She had looked up to Percy on many occasions while he was at Hogwarts. He was a rule follower, had a sensible brain, and had a good moral compass. However, that had all been tainted now, with some of it even being disproved.

"What do you mean you've had it for four years?"

The voice behind her made her jump, and her wrist holding the kettle flicked up, causing water to spill on the counter. She looked over her shoulder to see that it was Fred standing there. "Oh my god, Fred, you scared me," she said with a smile, "I almost burned myself with the water!"

"Sorry," he replied, and his eyes darted to her arm to check that no injury had occurred. "It's just...you've had that thing for four years?"

She should've known he wouldn't let this go. He never let things go. He was still annoying in that respect. But it was nice, knowing that he cared enough not only to ask, but to be insistent enough to want to know.

"Yeah, it didn't heal properly," she told him breezily as she walked over to the fridge, careful to say the truth in a way that would throw him off the scent. "It hurts occasionally, but only when I do strenuous activity. It's not a problem, don't worry."

She didn't want him to find out, but she also didn't want him to view her as weak. They had just become equals. She didn't need him to take pity on her or not let her fight because of this.

Her need for vengeance was gone; she was satisfied. Now she just wanted to move on.

"But that's a serious wound for it to be four years old, right?" he questioned behind her.

Isobel opened the fridge and got the milk out. She took the opportunity of being away from him to show the stress on her face for a second before returning to a relaxed demeanour and closing the fridge door. "Well, I accidentally hurt it again about two years ago, so the wound opened up, but it's all good now," she answered, and she nodded to him as she walked back over to double down on her claim.

"And how did you get it?" he asked as she poured the milk into the mugs.

Now that was a question she couldn't just answer on the spot. She didn't want to lie.

"Fred, honestly, it's fine," she falsely chuckled, "don't worry about it."

Isobel put the cap on the milk and put it down on the counter. Before she knew it, she was spun around with her back against the counter, and Fred was leaning over her, not letting her leave.

"How did you get it?" he repeated, his need for the truth being stronger than his manners.

She realised he may have been catching on, as he was far from a dunce. Anybody with a sense could do the math and work out when she got this injury, and what else had happened in the same period. He had a hunch the injury was because of him, and he wanted confirmation.

"I was in a car accident," she told him, "the car went into my side."

It was the best thing she could think of. He knew she was a muggleborn, it made sense.

"But you said you haven't been home in years?" he interrogated.

"Yeah, for the summer," she said, "this was at Christmas."

"And what about the second time?"

He had a knack for making her tongue-tied. Isobel always prided herself on having an answer for everything, or at least being a good talker, but something about his gaze recently made her lose her train of thought. The hatred that stopped her from noticing the face looking back at her was no longer there, and it was harder arguing with him now that he was a friend instead of a foe.

"Fred, don't make me regret this whole friend thing," she said as she pushed her hand down on his arms to open the barrier. "I think I liked you better when you didn't ask questions."

"I liked you better when you told me the truth," he told her as she picked up two teacups in her hands, "no matter how brutal it was."

Isobel turned to him, the tea now acting as a physical barrier between them. "So what you're going to tell me you know when I'm lying now?" she asked him sarcastically, "come on, let it go, we've got more serious things to deal with. Recent things. Bring in the two teas for you and George."

She slipped away and walked around the counter to the door. With both hands full, she didn't think the closed door through. Fred had closed it when he had come in.

"Sorry, can you help?" she asked him kindly.

Fred instantly walked over and opened the door for her, leaning against it with his arm as she thanked him for the favour.

"You have a tell," he spoke down to her.

"What?" she asked him.

"You have a tell," he smirked, "I've learnt it now, it shows when you're lying."

Isobel rolled her eyes. He was saying anything now to try to get her to talk to him. "And what is this tell?"

"I'm not telling you; it wouldn't be a tell then, would it?" he said. "You tell me your secret, and I'll tell you mine. It's the way the world works."

It almost made her laugh. There was a reason he wouldn't tell her, and it was because he didn't know. He was bluffing; it was how they made their way through life. It was charming, but funny.

"Watch it okay," she teased him, nudging him with her elbow, "I was just starting to like you. Let's focus on the real mystery, shall we? And that's your brother."

Isobel walked into the living room where George and Oliver were sitting and placed Oliver's tea on the coaster in front of him before sitting down on the armchair herself. She left the space next to Oliver for Fred; she was best in the background for this one. A few minutes later, Fred came in. What he needed the extra time for, she didn't know.

"So, we might as well get it over with. What is it?" George asked with a reluctant sigh, "What's the boy we supposedly call brother done now?"

Oliver took a sip of his tea, which he seemed happy with its taste, and put it down. Shuffling to the end of the sofa to sit up straight. "Well, you know how I said I had family in the southeast?"

Everyone nodded.

"Well, I visited them for a couple of days whilst I did my research. They've been terrified, being a mix of half-bloods, but they've been alright so far. Anyways, I was there because I wanted to meet up with Percy."

"Wait, you've kept in touch?" Fred asked, stunned at this fact. "Blimey, even we haven't done that. How have you managed it without getting annoyed?"

Oliver's face gave away his guilt. "I couldn't say it over the radio, but I never told you what I was working on for Xeno. I was providing information from the ministry, which I learned from your brother."

"Percy's a spy?" George asked.

"Oh, Merlin's beard, no," said Oliver, amused at his interpretation. "No, he's not the spy; I am. Despite our differences, Percy and I were friends at Hogwarts—and quite frankly, I'm the last one he has left. He'll tell me anything as long as I say I agree with him. It's quite sad."

Isobel agreed that it did sound sad. She sympathised with him, having only had Luna as a friend herself up until recently. They had gone down similar paths and ended up on the complete opposite sides of the war.

"And what kind of information do you get?" Fred asked him.

"At first it was strictly ministry stuff, policies, rumblings of death eater activity, etc," he told them, "but then it started to get more serious. The last thing Percy told me about was these plans for Semperess, and I couldn't believe it, it sounded barbaric."

"And did you pass this on to Xeno?" Isobel asked.

"Yeah, I did, he was as much in despair about it as I was. I was able to tell him the real truth about what this prison was going to do, not the propaganda crap they send out. He was going to run it in print immediately as a warning."

This was all starting to ring bells inside her head. Xeno had known about Semperess' way before it had been announced, and yes, she had never seen the story in print. It had never been in a Quibbler that she had ever read, and she had read all of them.

"When was this?" Isobel asked curiously.

Oliver thought for a moment. "About a couple of months ago, maybe around the end of summer?"

Isobel and George looked at each other from across the room. Now, Xeno being taken made sense, and the fact that he wasn't left at Malfoy Manor like Luna was. He was a political opponent of the press, and they wanted to silence him. Luna was an extra blackmail for him and Harry Potter.

"The Last time we saw Percy, he was at those temporary containment centres," said Fred with contempt. "He was one of them. When he saw us there, he tried to bring us in, his own brothers."

"What were you doing there?" Oliver asked. His scrunched-up and confused face was the normal reaction to hearing that your friends had purposely walked into danger.

"Breaking them out," said Isobel, "they had Dean Thomas trapped in there."

"Oh shit," said Oliver, and he appeared quite proud, or at least approving of their brave actions, "well done. So many people have gone missing, I've been trying to track them, but it's been hard to keep up. Many muggleborns didn't turn up at Hogwarts this year, they just went on the run."

"Yeah, and our horrible excuse for a brother is part of it," Fred spat. Although it was a close race between the two brothers, Fred seemed more disgusted about Percy's involvement than George. "So what did you find out?"

"He's recently had a promotion," said Oliver, "to Prison warden."

"What does that mean?" George asked.

"It means he's responsible for the running of Semperess. Like the security, staff, finances, and resources. No one goes in or out of Semperess without his say so."

Fred scoffed and sunk back into the sofa, while George smiled at how low his brother had gone to get ahead. Isobel glanced at Fred, and she could see his jaw clench out of anger.

"Which he's pretty proud of," Oliver continued, to push the knife in further, "says it's the achievement of his career."

There was a heavy pause of quiet while the brothers took the news in. Isobel felt a wave of affection for them and wanted to give them each a hug. It was the only thing she could think of to do, as what else do you do when someone finds out their brother has gone against every principle they hold dear?

"If mum and dad knew..." said George as she shook his head, "...bloody hell, they'd be sick."

"Yeah, well, it's a good job he disowned us then," Fred told him. "They'll never find out."

"So to make it clear," said Oliver, "the one thing standing in the way of us breaking into Semperess is... your older brother."

"An older brother who has seen his blood locked in there and hasn't done anything about it," said Fred, "this is quite possibly the worst person we could face."

"Yes, but you also know him; you know how he works," Isobel said to him positively, speaking up. "You already know this enemy. We have the advantage."

"And that's another thing I wanted to tell you," said Oliver. "There's another detainment camp set up near my cousin's house. Percy visits every Monday for an inspection. And for the warden of the prison to be able to visit weekly to take the prisoners on foot to prison, as they can't use magic..."

"...it means the prison is close to that detainment camp," Isobel finished.

Oliver nodded in acknowledgement. "Bingo."

"So we go to the camp, find Percy, and follow him?" George asked.

"No, we go to the camp, find Percy, interrogate him, then force him to give us Charlie and Luna back," said Fred sternly, "then we work on getting everyone else out."

It was the start of a new plan, and Oliver had finally found them a decent lead. It seemed simple enough: find Percy, find Semperess, see Luna. But as they had found out, nothing ever came easy in this day and age.

They continued talking into the night, and when dinner was ready, George divided up the jacket potatoes so that Oliver could also have enough to eat. Isobel was quiet, as she enjoyed her night listening to the stories Oliver and the twins had to share. Of course, as it was Oliver, Quidditch mainly dominated the conversation. However his stories of playing professional were fascinating, even if one story about a rogue bludger made Isobel nervous enough to steal a glimpse at Fred to make sure he didn't catch on. Unfortunately, he saw her looking, but didn't call her out on it.

Once they had all eaten and drunk themselves to a full stomach, and all Hogwarts stories had been revisited, it was time for bed. It was too late for Oliver to travel back home, so Isobel offered her room for him to sleep, and she took the sofa despite Fred and George's objections.

One of them had to be down here, and she felt like she could defend herself against anyone unseemly breaking in.

"Are you sure you're okay sleeping downstairs?" Fred asked for a final time as she set up her bed on the sofa. George and Oliver were upstairs, getting him settled in.

"Yeah, Oliver has travelled far, and what, I'm going to share a room with you and George?" Isobel joked.

"Well, you could," he suggested.

Isobel raised her eyebrow at him as she spread her duvet over the arch of the sofa.

"I mean, I would sleep down here," Fred corrected himself, his cheeks blushing a pale pink in the firelight.

"And as pleasurable as sleeping next to George would be..." she told him, "...my rule was that I need my own space. I'm happy with this."

Isobel bent down and pulled out her lavender spray from her washbag. As usual, she prayed it seven times on her pillow. It spritzed all over, creating a harmonious scent, but when Isobel turned around, she saw Fred's nose twitching.

"Oh, sorry, do you not like the smell?" she asked. She should've asked him beforehand if he minded, as it wasn't to everyone's taste.

Fred shook his head, his lips curling into a smile as if the smell had returned a pleasant familiarity. "No, it's not that it's....do you always use that?"

"Every night since I was young," she smiled back at him, "helps me sleep. Luna always used to say it was built into my skin DNA to smell like it at this point."

Isobel did not see the look Fred gave her behind her back as she put the spray away, but she did feel his eyes on her. When she turned back to him, he was more serious. The feeling the smell had given him was short-lived. He had seemed to come down with another conversation topic in mind.

"Can we talk now?" he asked, "about that."

Isobel looked down as he pointed to her ribs. He had waited until they were alone again, which was respectable, but she still didn't want to talk about it.

"What do you mean? We've already talked about it," she said as she fluffed up her pillow and put it down at the arm of the sofa.

"I know, but I don't want you to lie to me this time," he said. "Is that from the bludger? Did I do that to you?"

Isobel stopped with her back turned to him and slowly raised her back up.

"No," she lied.

Fred walked forward and gently pulled her arm so that she faced him, leaving her no choice but to stare back into the brown eyes that had made her so tongue-tied.

"Isobel Monroe, did I give you that scar?" he asked.

She was concerned in every way. Hearing him say her full name felt like the first time it had ever been said, and now the only place she could feel in her body was her arm, where his hand was. He knew she was lying, so she just had to say it. She didn't have the ability to lie anymore.

"Yes," she said softly, the words barely reaching his ears as she had been so quiet.

With that one word, she saw Fred's demeanour change entirely in front of her. He appeared angry, but at himself, and his eyes turned to pity as they looked down at her waist. His other hand gently reached for the scar, but they stopped halfway, knowing this couldn't be an excuse to touch her.

"You weren't told the truth about what happened to me," she said, finding herself saying something to control the atmosphere in the room. "My ribs didn't magically get healed within a few days. They broke and they had to regrow all over again, which meant that I couldn't play for the whole fourth year actually."

"So I destroyed your Quidditch career," he stated with a lump in his throat. "I was the reason you never played again."

Though she had seen Fred emotional, it had never been over her. She had pictured this moment for years, telling him what he had done to her, but this wasn't what she imagined. She didn't feel satisfied, or avenged...she only felt bad for him. "Fred, please, we cannot do this now, it was years ago."

"I don't care how long it's been," Fred dismissed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You should've told me."

"Told you?" she giggled sarcastically. "When was I supposed to tell you, when you hated me or when we'd just started to act human towards each other?"

"I just thought perhaps that in one of our spitting matches at each other over the years that you might have mentioned it," he said. His eyes fell to her scar again, and his hand gripped her arm. However, without Isobel having to flinch, he released the grip immediately. He didn't want to hurt her further than he already had.

"I thought you knew and were just being ignorant, so there was no point," Isobel told him. "It made me hate you even more. It was only until recently that I realised you didn't do it's fine, all is forgiven."

"So I was the reason you never played again?" he asked.

Isobel's eyes met his, and she realised how little it all mattered now compared to what they had been through together. This was not the Fred Weasley she thought she hated. He was showing nothing but remorse. "Not exactly...I did heal, but by the time I did, the Ravenclaw team wanted nothing to do with me."

"Why not?" he asked angrily.

"They thought I got into the injury because I was glory hunting," she told him, still annoyed at the whole principle, "apparently it's not a Ravenclaw trait."

"That's such bullshit!" Fred exclaimed, and Isobel had to signal him to keep his voice down. George or Oliver could come down at any moment.

"Well, that we agree on," she whispered. "But again, it was years ago. Cho and I made up eventually before she left."

"So I caused you to break your ribs and get kicked off the team?" Fred asked, the lump in his throat growing as his frustration rose. He let go of her arm and stepped back out of frustration, "Fucking hell..."

"It's okay!" she said, stepping forward to calm him down. She could see that this was taking a toll on him and it was just like seeing a springer spaniel loose its energy - it was unnatural. "I found other ambitions, it meant I had more time to study and work out what I wanted to do."

"Yeah, and join the inquisitorial squad," he spat, "that was because of me too wasn't it?"

Isobel was shocked at how he had brought that up. He was bang on the money, but she didn't want to discuss this. The bludger drop had been enough to start him off without bringing up something else.

"That's not why-"

"Isobel," he said. He looked down at her, his eyes wide open. He didn't want her to insult him with another lie. He must've been right. She had a tell.

"Okay, yes, that was why," she admitted. "Well, that and what happened at the Yule Ball...it was a lot of things really. It wasn't just because you broke my ribs. To me, you were reckless, you were everything I was against—but you need to know that I only joined them to teach you a lesson, to stop all of inequality going on when it came to breaking the rules. I didn't know what we'd have to do and I didn't know to what extent."

"So I pushed you straight into it," said Fred, whose eyes were now red and watery. "Straight into bloody Draco Malfoy."

He rubbed his cheek as he struggled to maintain his emotions. Isobel didn't know what to do; and she didn't know why he was bringing up Draco either. She could only try to reassure him that the past was the past.

"No, you didn't," she said calmly, "I made my own decisions. Besides, none of it matters now. We've both moved on from those days, we made a promise to eachother."

"Yes, but now I understand why you hated me!" he said in a broken voice, "bloody hell Iz, I would've hated me too."

Isobel stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, making him look at her as he was surprised she had touched him in this way. "And I made you bleed and tortured you Fred, okay, we're both guilty. You hated me too. It's in the past."

Fred chewed his cheek and she could see that he was trying so hard not to retaliate. He was stubborn, and so was she. He knew she wasn't going to let him have a pity party to himself about this. "Yeah, but it could've been different," he told her solemnly.

He then slipped away like a droplet of water running off her hands and sat on the sofa on her duvet. She just watched him and crossed her arms, facing him as she tried to work out what he was thinking.

"What?" she said, "No, it couldn't of done."

Fred rested his arms on his knees and his chin in his hands. He was stressed out, and it scared her that she couldn't read his mind. "Yes, it could."

"How?" she asked.

Fred didn't need much push. It was like he had taken veritserum, and every thought was spilling out of his mouth. "Everyone liked me at Hogwarts, okay, except for the Slytherins, but that was a given," he told her. "You were the only one who despised me, and it got to me. I liked being liked, and it made me change how I acted. I became obsessed with hating you, like I felt so strongly about it. I never wanted to be horrible to anyone except you, and you knew how to bring it out of me too, you knew how to get under my skin like a fucking rash, and all this time I thought it was justified because I had done nothing to you to make you feel that way and you were just some stuck up girl. But now you're telling me that didn't need to happen? That if I had just known about this then I could've, that we could've-"

"We could've what?" Isobel asked.

Fred hesitated, and his right hand fidgeted at his side. Perhaps he realised that he was being ridiculous and needed to calm down, or maybe he didn't even know what point he was making, but this question made him take a breath - and he was calmer when he next spoke.

"Things could've gone differently between us, that's all I'm saying," he told her, waving his hand as he looked down to the side.

Isobel was hearing the words he was saying, but she couldn't help but feel like there was a meaning behind this that he wasn't telling her. She sat beside him on the sofa and faced forward, close enough that their knees almost knocked together.

"You think that would've changed things?" she asked, "I'll tell you what would've happened if you never threw that bludger. Would I still have been Luna's friend? Yes. And okay, yes I would've continued to play Quidditch. But oh yeah...I still wouldn't have ever mixed with you, and probably still would've disliked you for being you. It wouldn't change us being opposites Fred, that's not how the world works."

She meant it as a reassuring joke, and to her relief, he laughed to himself. It was the first sign of him calming down, which is what she wanted.

"I guess you can't change the past," he said, his tone husky and low as she continued to stare downwards. "But that doesn't change the part where this is fucked up. I mean I wouldn't have been so terrible to you if I'd known. I know I wouldn't."

He was a boy wounded and apologetic. He was so angry at himself with the rawness of this realisation, and all Isobel could think of was all the memories with him that she had looked back on with anger before this summer. Her hatred for him had blinded her to everything else about him, and it had never occurred to her that how he had acted was out of pure retaliation. If she had given him a chance, she would've seen the Fred she saw in front of her right now.

Caring, fearless...and loyal.

They had gotten eachother so wrong.

So, terribly, wrong.

"It's not like I made it easy for you," she sighed, gently nudging him with her knee. "Like, did I hate you for it? Yes. Did I then maybe do things that harmed you out of spite? Also yes. I'm no angel either."

"Yeah....," Fred spoke, "These last couple of months have proved how stupid we were."

Isobel had been picking up on Fred's tenseness, which was so unlike him. It was almost like he was nervous, but there was nothing to fear.

"We? Stupid? Talk for yourself," she said sarcastically, trying again to lift the mood.

They both laughed, and their bodies touched as they became closer, the day's secrets having bonded them. She felt relieved that it was out there and that she didn't have to keep it in as a vendetta anymore, but as Isobel stole a glimpse of the boy next to her, she wondered what on earth his admissions had meant.

Had this meant that he had only ever acted in retaliation? That if she hadn't been so cruel to him, they might have been friends earlier than now? Would she have been a part of the DA and not the inquisitorial squad? Did Fred wish that it were that way?

Why had he gotten so angry about this when he was telling her not to linger on what-ifs only a couple of weeks ago?

"Let's drop the whole, you know, 'scar' thing," she said after they both had stared at the floor in a comfortable silence for a while, "It's been a long couple of months of me forgetting all those feelings I had about you and George and I just really don't want me to bring them up again. We've worked hard to be able to sit here and have a conversation, so we shouldn't waste it."

Fred nodded slowly and turned his head her way. His eyes were puffy and she could see the tear stain from where a tear had slipped out without her seeing. "Okay, I agree," he said, "but if you don't mind...and you can say no...can I see it?"

Isobel was unsure about this. It wasn't like she was proud of it; she always tried to cover it up, and something was anxiety-inducing about letting Fred see a part of her that no one else had seen.

"Just once," he said as he could see that she felt uneasy, "so I can know what I did. Otherwise, it will never be okay in my mind."

She could see his thought process and guessed she would've wanted to see it too had she been in his position. So, she gave in and lifted her jumper to her ribs, revealing the large bruise, but nothing more.

"And would it hurt if I?" he asked, his hand lightly lifted above the ground.

He had calmed down, but she could still see the regret in his sad eyes as he gazed upon the dark red marking. If this would make him feel better, then she didn't mind. The concept of him touching her didn't make her feel sick anymore.

"Only one way to know," she said lightly.

With her permission, Fred reached out, and his fingertips slowly traced her scar from the top downwards. It didn't hurt as she assumed it might, but it did give her a sensation like a tickle, making goosebumps appear all over her body.

It felt...nice.

"See, no pain," she smiled, "I'm completely fine."

"Would it be inappropriate to say that I'm jealous?" Fred smiled, "You've got a seriously cool scar, and I've never even come out of a battle with anything more than a cut."

"Given that you gave it to me, yes," she chuckled at his audacity to say that, "you're imprinted on me forever Weasley, no matter how much I tried to make it disappear."

Fred finished his last trace and rested his palm onto her scar, his finger wrapping partly around her waist. This only accentuated the goosebumps, as she hadn't been touched there by someone else on her bare skin in years, making her take a sharp intake of breath to counteract it. Fred felt this happen on his touch, as he met her eyes with a glimmer of amusement.

"Has anyone ever told you your eyes have a bit of blue in them?" he asked her, studying her iris from left to right.

Isobel became speechless. With his touch, goosebumps, and intense study of her eyes—the window to her thoughts—she suddenly lost her composure. With one sentence he had completely caught her off guard.

"Yeah, um, Luna used to notice that sometimes," she said, purposely avoiding his eyeline and looking at his nose instead to give the illusion of eye contact, "In certain light, green can appear blue. It's weird."

"It's not weird," he replied, "it's cool."

Isobel had only felt like this a rare few times in her life, where had been speaking to a boy and had lost all logic and common sense.

It had happened with Cedric Diggory, her perfect best friend who was too old for her and was in love with her teammate.

It had happened with Draco Malfoy, who hated everything about her values and who she was.

And it was now happening with Fred Weasley, the boy she had sworn to hate forever due to their blatant opposing views on everything.

She had sweaty palms, goosebumps, and her mind was clear of all intelligent things to say.

No matter how small they were...she recognised that she had feelings that could not be confused with friendship or hatred anymore.

"Well, if we're being nice," she said, fluttering her eyes upwards to meet his eyes, "it's kind of cool how your hair appears under candlelight."

She had noticed it earlier. With the fireplace's low flame, it had made his now long-ish hair stand out. It was the prettiest colour she had ever seen.

"Oh really?" he asked. He couldn't help but preen himself at this compliment, but he wasn't doing this seriously, so there was no need to be put off by a show of vanity. "What does it appear like?"

Isobel thought about it, choosing her words carefully. "Hmm, how did Luna describe it?" she asked, "November fires?"

Fred chuckled lightly at her dodge of the question. However, this was Fred Weasley, and he always got his answers.

"But how would you describe it?" he asked, turning inwards towards the sofa and leaning into her. The flames from the fireplace had attached a Smokey cologne to his jumper, hitting her nose like a firework.

"Burning red," she answered him, her eyes marvelling at the curl coming down his forehead. "It's too alive, it glows; it would be an insult to simply call it ginger."

Fred took this well—perhaps a little too well. She would've loved to have known if he, too, felt the same surprise she did when he said nice things about her, but she would just have to settle for the words he spoke to her.

"So you're green and I'm red," he laughed, "it's like together we're Christmas."

He was putting them together, even in a throwaway comment. Perhaps he could feel what she could, too. Maybe he could make sense of it when she couldn't, as he didn't have goosebumps right now.

"I've always had a special soft spot for Christmas," she said, unable to think of anything else.

"Me too," said Fred, and with that, her cheeks burned up. Her whole body burned up. He had given her the feeling of a cold within a few words.

Their shared stare only grew in intensity the longer neither said anything. Isobel could hear the cackle of the fire, the footsteps above from George and Oliver preparing to go to sleep, and the sound of the rain pouring that had just started outside. However, none of those sounds could pull her attention away. She was in a trance and found herself leaning forward into the smell of the smoke...

"I better go to bed," said Fred, shattering her trance and plunging her back to reality. "I'm George's safety blanket," he joked, "poor sod can't get to sleep without me."

Isobel instantly pulled herself back. She had read the situation wrong entirely. "Okay," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear out of embarrassment. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. "Goodnight then."

Fred smiled, but his eyes narrowed at her abruptness. "Okay...Goodnight, Monroe."

Fred stood up, perhaps reluctantly, and walked towards the staircase. He placed his foot on the first step, but before he raised to it, his back foot stayed on the floor.

"Oh, by the way, you said you hurt it two times," he said back to her, "Was that involving me as well? You know, as I'm keeping score."

Isobel shook her head as she slipped under her duvet and into bed. Her cheeks burned, and she wanted him to end this conversation so he didn't see how he had affected her. He clearly felt nothing, and she was confused as to why she did so much.

"No, that was a total accident," she said breezily, and she lay down so it gave the impression that she wanted to sleep. "A complete and total mistake."

And it was.

It wasn't Fred's fault.

She knew that now.

But that white lie hid a half-truth.

He and George were there, and it was the last time she had seen them before Remus and Tonk's wedding.

Chapter Text

That night, Isobel had the most vivid set of dreams.

Her moment with Fred had made her giddy, and with that kind of adrenaline, weird dreams and a disrupted sleep were always to follow.

"Izzy, wake up! Wake up!"

In the dream, Isobel awoke to the fairy-like tones of Luna Lovegood, shaking her awake whilst she battled the brightness of the early summer sun. Her vision was fuzzy, but the shades of blue were all too familiar. She was in the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory.

"Come on, wake up, you're going to be late!"

As her consciousness got itself together again, she remembered why Luna was so viciously trying to wake her up - it was the last trial of the Triwizard Tournament. By the end of the day, Cedric should be crowned the victor of the whole thing.

Well, he was currently tied with Harry Potter, but Isobel knew he was going to beat him.

"Cedric's waiting for you!"

Things always moved quickly in her dreams, so Isobel soon saw herself dressed and walking down to the Hogwarts courtyard.

"Monroe," said a voice behind her.

She couldn't stop. She had to find Cedric.

"Monroe!"

Footsteps ran faster to catch up with her, and soon Draco Malfoy was catching up on her heels.

"Monroe, if I call your name, I expect you to at least look over your shoulder," he said, his voice low and confident as he held his Hogwarts robe over his shoulder. It was approaching summer, so the warm temperature made wearing robes an impossibility.

"Not today, Draco," Isobel huffed, and she picked up her pace. "Cedric is my priority, not you."

Though the two had become somewhat friends since the Yule Ball, she didn't have time for him right now.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not pretty enough for your attention?" he asked. He was still keeping up with her despite her best efforts to ditch him.

"You are not about to risk your life in that crazy maze," she said. The thought sent shivers down her spine. The maze was the last task, the most difficult, and the contestants had been told little to nothing about it.

"So I am pretty enough?" Draco asked, a smirk cutting across his sharp, pale jaw.

Isobel gave him a knowing look and stopped walking. He wasn't letting her go, and she didn't want to be a sweaty mess when she finally saw Cedric. "You've got ten seconds, what do you want?"

"I need you to do a job for me," he told her, "today."

Isobel laughed out loud. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on, this one is a really good one."

"Does the job end with the Weasleys in detention?"

"No."

"Then I'm not doing it," she said, "the only way you get me involved in your schemes is if the Weasleys are involved, that was the deal, and I would be in the perfect mood for it today - Fred threw a stink bomb at me yesterday and I can still smell it in my hair. I washed it three times and still nothing."

She had to spray a lot of perfume on herself this morning to cover it up. It was new, a gift, from Pansy Parkinson. A gift for joining their 'ranks'. At first, she was suspicious because Pansy was never friendly to anyone. But then she needed to use it after Fred threw the stink bomb, and it smelled nice - a bit musky, but powerful. Perhaps Pansy had never had many girlfriends to buy gifts for.

"What if I told you it would give your boyfriend an advantage?" Draco said, and his grey eyes glinted as he knew he had just spoken the one thing that would get her attention.

Isobel raised an eyebrow. She was listening, but she wasn't yet trusting of Draco, and she didn't like how he called Cedric her boyfriend in such a demeaning way. "How so?"

"You know Viktor Krum, right?" he asked.

Isobel nodded. "I see him in the library from time to time, we've studied together, but I mostly help him find the books Granger recommends."

She said her name with the same venom Draco did, and it made him smile.

"Good, get him sent to Moody's office."

Moody's office? Isobel couldn't see what he would need with Viktor Krum. He was a Hogwarts Professor, a bit of a batty one admittedly, but still, his loyalties were with Cedric and Potter, not a Durmstrang student.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Draco snorted, "but I know he's one of the many teachers protecting Potter in this tournament. You know, none of the professors have been keen on him winning for some reason; they breathe with relief every time he completes one of the bloody tasks above. He's probably going to give him tips so he blocks Potter from getting the win, and if he's out..."

"Cedric would still be the overall winner," said Isobel, keeping up pace in her head, "okay, I get it, but why can't you tell him yourself? You're friends with the Durmstrangs."

"I am, but not with Krum," said Draco, "he doesn't like me for some reason."

"I wonder why," said Isobel. She could tell Krum was different; he had a kind heart, which was unusual for a Durmstrang. It certainly made him weary of people like Draco.

"So will you do it?"

She had to admit it. She would do anything to gain the advantage over Cedric. He had worked so hard for it. He really wanted it. Harry didn't. He had complained about it all year. Cedric deserved that win.

"If you let me go to Cedric now, I'll do it," she told Draco, "I'll get Krum to Moody's office."

Draco gave her a smile she had only received a few times. A crooked, slimy expression that told the other person, 'Well done, you've pleased him.' Or even more so, that you had followed orders. "Alright, good," he said, "Merlin Monroe, you keep me on my toes with that attitude."

Isobel felt cold on her cheek as Draco leant forward and kissed it. She was frozen to the spot with shock as he lingered there and looked her up and down, her body flashing hot under his spotlight. "I kind of like it."

Even in her dream, she wanted to wipe him straight off like a fly that had landed on her sleeve. Oh, how hindsight had changed her; she could feel the intrigue she had felt at the time, and she so desperately wanted to scream at herself.

But then, the scene changed again, this time to the Hogwarts courtyard. Her heart fluttered as she saw Cedric sitting on the walls of the fountain, the water trickling lightly underneath the bright sun. Cedric was in his Quidditch training robes. He had already been up and early, flying - something he did when he was stressed. His brown hair was messy from the wind, and it made him look like he had just woken up.

"Hey Golden Boy," Isobel called out to him as she walked down the entrance steps, "how's the pride of Hufflepuff doing this morning?"

She meant it as a joke, and as he looked up to see her walking towards him, he smiled lightly and rolled his eyes.

"You know I hate it when they call me that," he told her, and then he looked back down at the floor. The sun was in his eyes.

"Which one?"

"Both," he smiled, "I'm freaking out Iz. It's a maze, I have no idea what's going to be in it!"

She had expected him to be like this. Cedric was so laid-back that even when he was stressed, it came out as laughter.

"What did Mad-Eye say?" Isobel asked him, hopping up to sit next to him at the fountain.

"Nothing," he huffed, "he's been utterly unhelpful."

That was strange. Mad-eye had been so valuable to Cedric on the last two tasks. He even sent him in the direction of the prefect's bathroom to dip his egg in the water.

"Well, I told you I saw Hagrid go down there, that means there are creatures," she said with positivity, "you're good with those."

"It's not the creatures I'm afraid of," Cedric sighed. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and started twiddling it around in his hand. "Dumbledore has warned us that it's more mental this one, that it will test who we are. How can I prepare for a test like that? I don't even know who I am!"

Isobel found his point impossible. To her, Cedric was fantastic. He was her best friend, her rock, her...everything.

But she didn't tell him this. Instead, she said a more vague and supportive response. 

"You're smart, you'll be able to deal with any mental puzzle that comes your way."

Cedric swallowed a giggle so that it sounded like a 'humph' noise. "It's not going to be that kind of mental, is it? He means paranoia, how we think. If there's a thing in there designed to trip us up and freak us out, I don't think I could handle it. I could probably beat Fleur in that department. She's a stress head. But against Krum? And Harry Potter with his past? They're going to be much stronger than I. They've faced things whereas I've been sheltered."

"Cedric, it's not how many times you've faced danger that counts, it's how you deal with it when you do face it," she said, and she placed a friendly hand on the height of his back. "You're strong, I know you are, and if the worst comes to the worst and you all turn on each other, I know you'll do the right thing. You're honourable, you'll make yourself proud in there and be the selfless person you are."

Cedric reached for her hand and pulled it down into his lap. He squeezed it with his hand and held it there, on his leg, and Isobel had to control herself so that she didn't show her increasing heart rate.

"I want to win Iz," he told her, a tone of finality in his voice. "I want to hold up that trophy as the last thing I do here. My last big accomplishment. I want to see my dad proud of me, and the money, of course, would help us so much, but I want to see his face when I finish 1st and come out of the maze with the cup in my hand."

Isobel swivelled her hips so that she could look at him with all of her body facing his. "I know," she said, her voice high as she tried to be as encouraging as possible, "and you will. All you need to do is beat Harry. That's it. You just need to get to the cup first."

"And what if it's between me and him?" Cedric asked, "I do owe him one. I saw his face at the Yule Ball when I walked in with Cho. Plus he shouldn't have been put in this so young, he was clearly set up."

Isobel had to agree that she was suspicious of how Harry had been entered into the tournament, too. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards in the world - how could Harry Potter, a boy who could barely hand in his homework on time, manage to hoodwink the cup and override the spell?

"He's Harry Potter, he'll get over Cho," she said, knowing the eye that Ginny Weasley had been giving Harry they eye all year, "but if it would really make you feel better, and it's between you and him, take it together. You'd still be a winner, you'd just have to share."

It wouldn't be her favourite outcome, but if it would keep Cedric's consciousness clear, then she would be happy for him if it happened. He was like that. He was kind. Even when he could have all the glory and attention, he cared about others.

But hopefully that situation didn't need to happen. Hopefully, Cedric would win.

"Promise you'll be there for me, when it's all over?" he asked, and he finally looked up at her again. His dark eyes pierced her like a stab in the chest, and she had to fight the urge to kiss him. He was finally looking at her the way she had always wanted him to.

He had never shown any interest in her, ever, and she couldn't fool herself that it was the case right now just because he was emotionally vulnerable and in some form of hopelessness. The look wasn't for her. It was for everything else going on in his life. It was a lost cause, the idea of them being together, so she just had to settle for friendship. Like she had done for the past year.

"I promise," she said, leaning into him with a quiet voice, "until the very end."

She winked at him, and he lifted their hands to be between their faces, smirking at her silliness.

"It's you and me Iz," he said, shaking his hand in hers to resemble some sort of handshake, "always."

She wanted to tell him then, about how she felt. In her gut, she knew this was going to be some defining moment; she just couldn't figure out why.

But again, she said nothing.

All she said was: "Friends forever."

The scene faded, and she emerged into a new setting. She was standing in the stands with Luna Lovegood, their faces painted yellow and black striped, and they had been staring at a gigantic maze for over an hour in the darkness of night. It had been daylight when Cedric and the other four champions went in, and now the audience in the stands could barely see anything.

"I really didn't think it would take this long," Isobel huffed to Luna, her knees shaking with anticipation as she tried to see any action at all from the maze, "like what have they got them doing in there, we can't see a bloody thing!"

"Well, we saw the red sparks from Fleur," said Luna. She looked down at the ground where a muddied-up Fleur Delacout was hugging her little sister, watching the maze like the rest of them.

"Yeah, half an hour ago!" said Isobel, "What have they got them doing in there, solving riddles?!"

And then, as if greatly timed, Isobel didn't have to wait anymore.

She saw a flash of light, and then two bodies appeared on the ground in front of the maze's entrance. Isobel immediately stood up to see what was going on, she could barely see with all the moving heads of excited students, but she could see from the hair that it was Harry and Cedric. The triwazard cup was on the floor, and Cedric's hand was around the handle.

He had won.

"Oh my god, he did it!" Isobel gasped out of excitement. She pulled Luna in tight and hugged her strongly. "Luna, he did it!"

The two happily jumped up and down in the air for a while, and then Isobel stepped past Luna, grinning ear to ear as she raced to be the first to congratulate him. "I need to go speak to him!"

"Iz, wait-" said Luna with a confused expression as she tried to grab her arm. But Isobel was too quick, and she didn't manage to stop her. Nothing was going to come between her celebrating one of her best friends' triumphs over the famous Harry Potter.

A few people were making their way down the stands to congratulate the winner, including Cedric's friends from Hufflepuff, the Quidditch team, and, of course, Cho Chang - so she had to barge past a few people as she happily made her way down. Her heart beat so fast out of pride.

He had done it. They had done it.

This was one thing that Gryffindor and Slytherin couldn't make about themselves.

"Ow!" said Fred Weasley as she tried to barge past him and George, who of course had to be near the front of the crowd. He knocked her backwards and looked over his shoulder as they walked down the stairs. "Forgotten our manners have we?"

His nose then twitched, almost humorously, to make a point. "Do you smell something George? A strange sort of awful smell just wafted past me. Like a ton of rat droppings."

"Funny," she snapped, trying to work around him and George. They moved every time she tried a new direction to block her. "Oh come on, move it Weasley. You're not even his friend!"

"No, but we're Harry's," said George, "and he's won too."

"No, he hasn't," said Isobel, "Cedric's hand was on the cup."

"And why do you think Harry came with him?" Fred asked, "It's a portkey, and they arrived at the same time, so that means Harry also touched it at the same time."

"Just like him to play the hero and share," said George snarkily.

"What?" said Isobel, her heart sinking in disappointment, "how! I gave him the advantage!"

"A bit big-headed of you to say that, isn't it?" said Fred with a sarcastic laugh, "would hardly call you an advantage."

"Besides, it's just a tournament, Perfect Cedric can live with a tie," said George, "and you can stand to lose once in a while."

Isobel continued to try and push past them, but they were like two strong Roman pillars. They weren't moving. "It's not just a tournament," she told them, "This is more than that, but you wouldn't understand that, would you, you've never worked hard for anything in your bloody life!"

Fred stared down at her in anger. "Hey, at least I earn everything I-"

"Noooo!"

A bellowing voice rang through the whole crowd as Amos Diggory ran down the stairs and approached the entrance to the maze from the other stand. Isobel couldn't see much over Fred and George's shoulders, but she did see him drop to the ground.

"My boy!"

Amos's cry strung through Isobel like strings on a guitar, rippling through her whole self, body and soul. Something was terribly wrong.

"Oh, move it!" she shouted fretfully, and she found the strength to shove both Fred and George out of the way with force, making them topple over to the people on the edge of the stands. She ran forward amongst the grass and she entered the clearing, hoping to see that her worries were for nothing.

But then she saw it.

Harry, crying and leaning over Cedric's body, Cedric lying still under him like a shop mannequin.

Cedric's skin was as pale as a ghost, all the blood drained from his usually rosy expression, and his eyes opened wide and lifeless.

He wasn't moving, he wasn't breathing, his body was there whilst his whole being was gone. He was a vessel that had lost its shining light.

"No!" Isobel shouted as she bent over and clutched one hand to her stomach and the other over her mouth to stop her from screaming. "No!"

Tears started rapidly falling from her eyes, and just as her vision blurred completely, a hand found her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. She didn't fight it. It was as if any touch at all did not affect her in that moment unless it was from Cedric. She laid her crying face on their chest, expecting to feel the frizzy hair of Luna, but instead she felt the cotton of a polo shirt and the husky scent of cologne.

"It's okay," said Theo Nott, whose sharp cheeks were mewing from his own upset at the scene. "Cry whilst you can. Nobody is looking at you."

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape slid down past them, Snape's cloak brushing Isobel as they ran to Cedric and Harry's aid. Isobel stepped out to follow them, but Theo pulled her back.

"No!" Isobel fought him, "I can't leave him. He promised, we promised-"

Isobel's cries made her choke on her own words. She could barely spit it out and breathe at the same time. "It was meant to be me and him," she sobbed, "...always!"

"Isobel, you're the one who took Krum to Moody. We need to get you out of here before he remembers," Theo whispered to her roughly.

"What?" she asked him, completely flabbergasted as to what that would have to do with anything.

"Krum was bewitched," he told her quietly, "and my money is on Moody being the one who did it. We didn't know, and neither did Draco, but now it's obvious. Krum won't remember as long as he doesn't see you."

"But Cedric," Isobel cried, her mind not even being able to compute what he was telling her, "I'd promised I'd be with him, until the end. I need to be with him!"

Theo grabbed her shoulders and shook her silent. "Well, I'm sorry, Iz, but it's the end," he said, "Krums is going to be a suspect in all this, as he was targeting everyone but Harry, you cannot be here when that happens. Save yourself. Believe me."

Was he telling the truth? Would Moody do something like that?

If that was true, then she had been a key player in what had happened. Krum would never have gone to Moody if she hadn't suggested it, and if that conversation had led to what killed Cedric...then she was to blame.

She had killed Cedric by simply wanting him to win.

"But I just wanted to give him an advantage," Isobel continued, crying harder now as the realisation fell, "I just wanted Harry to lose, for once. I didn't mean to-"

"And Harry will lose," said Draco, as he appeared into frame. He was wearing Durmstrang makeup on his cheeks and an unemotional expression that told her he wasn't even shocked by this outcome. "Harry was involved in this death, too. Now save all your anger and focus it. Big things are coming, this is just the start of it. And trust me, Potter will pay."

"You," said Isobel venomously, "you were the one who sent me to Krum in the first place!"

"I honestly didn't know, Moody just asked me this morning, I had no idea," said Draco, who frankly appeared quite offended by the accusation. "Do you really think that if I had something to do with it, that it would be Cedric lying there right now? Merlin's no, it would be Potter lying there in a way worse shape. I liked Diggory."

"Not enough to support him though," Isobel sniffed angrily, looking at the Durmstrang flags on his cheeks.

"Monroe, you've got a lot to learn about politics," said Draco, "you can either stay here and grieve, and let everyone know that it was you who potentially set this up once Krum comes to, or come with us. We can protect you, and trust me, you can get your revenge on all of them who should have died in Diggory's place."

Isobel thought about it and looked back at the crowd for just a moment. Everyone's attention was on Harry. He was screaming about what had happened, but she couldn't hear, her ears were blocked from her crying and the stress. No one was looking at Cedric except his father, who was weeping silently alongside his body. Hermione and Ron were at the stands, solemnly gazing upon Harry, and just in front of them were Fred and George, who appeared to be mournful in their own way, but looking at Harry.

It was all about him still. Potter. The centre of attention even in Cedric's Death.

She had experienced enough.

The Weasleys had taken her Quidditch career, and now Potter had taken Cedric, no matter how much both of them were made out to be 'accidents'.

She hated them all.

Every single one of them.

And that's where her nightmare ended.

"You okay?" George asked as Isobel woke up suddenly, sitting up in a springing action as she exited her nightmare. He was getting his nightly coffee and standing in front of her in dark purple pyjamas. Isobel only realised that she hadn't met him here for a night chat in weeks.

"Nightmares," she breathed as her chest rose up and down.

"Want to join me?" He offered.

"I think coffee might make it worse...," she said. She rubbed her forehead as a numbness began there, marking the start of a headache. "It was about the night of Cedric's death."

"Oh," George apologised. He walked over and slumped down next to her on the sofa. "Want to talk about it?"

She didn't want to talk about it, she never did, but she wanted George there. These past few months of friendship had made him her comfort blanket—a friend she could talk to no matter what.

"Can you distract me with something else?" she asked him kindly, "I fear that if I talk about I'm just going to become a blubbering mess, and I've worked so so hard to get past that."

"Well, crying is okay," George said supportively, "but okay, I can change topics...what happened between you and Fred tonight?"

"What?" Isobel asked. Her face strained as hard as possible to be serious and not give anything away. She hadn't even worked out what her feelings meant yet, and it certainly wasn't time to bring a third party into the matter.

George leaned into her and whispered quietly. "I eavesdropped on your whole conversation tonight. I heard everything, about your ribs, about why you hated him, about your green eyes and," he stopped to make a gagging sound, "his hair. I could feel the tension through the bloody extendable ear. It made me almost want to throw up, but I-"

"You listened to our private conversation?" Isobel interrupted him, staring at him suspiciously.

George recognised that he had exposed himself by crossing a line. He sat up straight and puffed out his chest. "It's my right, as a twin."

"It's an invasion of privacy," Isobel corrected him.

"I can forgive myself for it," he replied.

She couldn't blame him. There wasn't exactly a lot of interesting things happening around here any more with it just being the three of them, so it must have been his way of staying in the loop and managing their turbulent relationship.

"Well, if you heard everything, why did you ask?" she asked him.

George shrugged. "I wanted to know what you'd say."

He smugly grinned, and Isobel sagged into her duvet. The little feeling she had felt for Fred was no longer hers, as before she could even work out what she was feeling, George had caught on. She now had no choice but to deny everything, so he didn't blow it up into something big.

"I don't like him," she sighed.

"That's not what it sounded like," George giggled, "I've never seen you be that nice to someone, ever."

"We also argued," Isobel defended herself, "did you hear that?"

"Yes, I did, and it only made me further believe that something is going on between you two," George argued back.

"Well, I'm sorry to let you down, but he doesn't like me," said Isobel, "nor do I like him."

"Or, you're both lying to yourselves," said George.

"Do you know what, I think I do want to talk about Cedric now, actually," said Isobel, "I think that will be a less painful conversation."

"Because you don't have to tell me the truth?" asked George.

Isobel rolled her eyes at him. "Because you think you know something that you don't," she stated.

"Oh, I don't know anything?" George questioned her, and he jumped up, propping himself up on the back of the sofa, "Then answer me this, Miss know-it-all, if you don't have any effect on my brother, then why is he looking up healing spells on deep scars right now?"

Isobel's face broke its carefully built defence as it couldn't hide its surprise. "He's doing what?"

"Yeah, why do you think I'm awake?" George replied bluntly as if it was obvious, "He's shining his wand bright to read."

Isobel struggled to understand why she felt so surprised at this. She and he were friends now, and friends look out for each other; he could just be trying to fix his mistake. But still, it took her right back to the moment that he left her abruptly on the sofa. Why would he do that if he was just going to stay up anyway?

"Why, does that change your answer?" George asked. He had mistaken her silence for confirmation that he was right. "Ready to admit it yet?"

"No," said Isobel, and her face returned to its unbothered expression, "because there's nothing to admit. He's just feeling guilty, being a friend, we would all do the same for each other."

"How are you so smart yet so delusional?" George asked, "I heard everything, Iz. Why can't you admit it to me?"

Isobel leaned in so close that he had to lunge back to avoid colliding with her face. "Because I don't know how I feel okay," she whispered, "it might be nothing, might be something, and if it's nothing, I don't want you running around and acting like it's something!"

"So I'm right," George smirked, "knew it."

"You know nothing," Isobel warned him. "You keep your mouth shut until I figure it out."

"But what's to figure out? Feelings are feelings, aren't they?" George asked.

Isobel laughed. Oh, he saw the world so simply.

"George, the last time I had a crush, the guy died or turned out to be a massive fascist who wanted to kill us; I don't have a good track record."

"Third time's a charm, though," George smiled back at her.

Isobel stared at him as George had expected her to laugh, but she couldn't. They just stared at each other, waiting for the other to break. Unfortunately for her, George did resemble Fred in many ways, so staring at him for a long period of time just made them mash into two in her head, and it made her brain almost explode. She had to try to tame George from spilling these assumptions of his to Fred, too, and that meant managing him.

"Okay, if I tell you everything, including what happened tonight and my dream about Cedric, will you please just keep this between us?" she begged him.

George thought about it, studied her desperate plea, and tilted his head.

"Everything?" He asked.

"Everything," she breathed, albeit being a bit scared to do so.

She needed a friend to talk to about this, and he was the only one she had right now. It just sucked that it was the objects of her thought's twin brother.

"Deal," said George, "I'll put the kettle on."

He stood up and walked towards the kitchen, leaving Isobel with the tingly sense of security that comes with knowing you're about to get everything off your chest to a trusted person.

"Oh, and Iz?" he asked as he was about to step into the kitchen.

"Yeah?" she called out after him.

"Good to have our late-night chats back," he said, "we'll always have them. Whenever you need it."

Chapter Text

"God, I was such an idiot for believing him," Isobel muttered, pressing down on the toaster a little too hard as two pale slices of bread slid into the heat. "He swore he didn't know what Moody wanted. I was so stupid."

"Yeah, judging character's not exactly your strong suit," George said with a teasing grin from where he leaned against the counter. "But honestly, no one saw it coming. It was Barty Crouch Jr., for Merlin's sake. Completely mental. How were you supposed to know?"

Isobel let out a breath. "I thought I was helping him."

Talking it through with George last night had been strangely cathartic. She'd only ever relived the whole thing once—right after it happened, to Luna. But this was different. Now there was distance, hindsight. It helped.

"You were helping him," George said, slurping his coffee. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Except I did," she said firmly. "I told him to take the cup with Harry. He felt guilty, and I told him it could be a tie if that made him feel better. If I hadn't said that, maybe he'd have let Harry take it alone. Maybe he'd still be alive. Maybe he never would've gone to that damn graveyard."

"Hey that is not on you," George said, his tone sharpening. "He chose to share the cup. He chose to protect Harry. That's who he was—brave to the end. He died doing the right thing."

"I know." Isobel sighed and leaned back against the counter, her body sagging under the weight of too many sleepless hours. "I just... I'll always carry that. I loved him, and I never told him. And now he's gone. Sometimes I wish he were still here. I could really use his advice right now, on what Fred thinks."

"What I think about what?" asked Fred, appearing in the doorway, fresh from the shower with dripping hair. Isobel opened her mouth but froze, the words vanishing on her tongue.

"Her hair colour," George jumped in quickly, covering for her. "She's thinking of going blue. Like Tonks."

Isobel shot him a look. Of all the things he could've said...

"Really?" Fred raised an eyebrow. "And you need advice for that? Instead of immediately realising it's a terrible idea?"

"It could look nice," Isobel managed, sounding almost casual. "Tonks pulls it off."

The toaster pinged. Fred grabbed the toast—her toast—and took a bite. "Yeah, she does. And I'm sure you would too," he added with a shrug. "But I've always thought you suited brown."

And with that, he walked out, footsteps creaking overhead as he headed upstairs—likely to find Oliver.

George was already grinning. He mimicked Fred's words in a high-pitched voice: "'I've always thought you suit brown.'" He barely held back a laugh.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isobel asked, though she already knew.

George leaned in conspiratorially. "It means I'm right," he said, smug. "And you would know it too, if you ever got over that bloody pride of yours."

Isobel shoved two new slices of bread into the toaster. "You promised not to make it obvious," she muttered.

"I didn't! He did," George said innocently. "That was him flirting."

"That was him being polite," Isobel said, voice flat. "I told you what happened—he pulled away. He had the chance, and he didn't take it. If he felt anything, he wouldn't have run. I trusted you with this. Don't make me regret it."

George raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll behave. I'll say I'm wrong," he said, leaning in again, this time with a grin. "But you know I'm right."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Isobel sighed.

"Nope," George said cheerfully. "Consider it my new side mission: get you two oblivious idiots to wake up and realise what everyone else already sees—before you drive us all mad."

***

An hour passed as everyone got ready. Isobel kept to herself, deliberately avoiding the others—distraction wasn't an option, and neither was embarrassment. They were heading to the detainment camp Oliver had discovered, and if his hunch was right, they might finally find Semperess. They were close. So close. But Isobel still didn't feel ready.

"Alright, everyone got everything?" Oliver called out as they gathered in the front garden, ready to leave. "Wands, cloaks, water. That's all we need—we travel light."

"Bloody hell, Wood," George muttered, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "You're treating this like a military op."

"Because it is," Oliver replied flatly. "Need I remind you three that you're on the most wanted list? If anyone spots you, we'll need to vanish—fast."

"How could we forget?" Fred grumbled, adjusting his backpack. "The radio makes sure we're all aware every five minutes."

"So, how are we getting there?" asked Isobel. "We can't Apparate. They'll detect us."

The sun was high. Bright daylight, clear skies—too easy to be seen. Their faces were on every poster from Cornwall to Inverness.

"I've arranged transportation," Oliver said. "They should be here any minute."

"They?" Fred echoed, brows raised. "Who's they?"

Right on cue, a pale green Mini came chugging down the country road, horn honking as it pulled to a stop just outside the gate. Behind the wheel sat a beautiful, dark-skinned woman with tight, glossy curls and a smile bright enough to knock someone off balance. She rolled down the window and leant out of it, her red leather jacket reflecting the sunlight.

"Alright boys," said Angelina Johnson, "long time no see."

Isobel's eyes flicked instantly to Fred, whose face had drained of all colour. George, meanwhile, looked like he was seconds away from bursting out laughing.

"That's who," Oliver said with a grin, striding over to the car to high-five his Quidditch prodigy.

"I'm going to kill him," Fred muttered under his breath as George and Isobel stared at him. "No, actually. I'm going to kill him."

"Why?" George asked, already laughing. "You're not happy to see her?"

Fred shot him a murderous look. "You know why. Monroe, you're sitting next to me the entire time—she's less likely to hex me if there's a girl between us."

He stomped toward the car, threw his bag in the boot, and climbed into the back seat without so much as glancing at Angelina or Oliver.

"She might hex him anyway if she can read what's going through his head," George whispered to Isobel.

Isobel tried not to smile. "Just so I know...how bad was the breakup?"

"Depends on whose version you hear," George said. "But let's just say, today's going to be very entertaining."

Isobel glanced toward the car. Fred was slouched in the backseat, silent as a ghost, while Angelina chatted easily with Oliver up front. She was effortlessly gorgeous.

"I'll take your word for it," she said.

The first thirty minutes of the journey were soaked in silence and tension. Fred didn't say a word. George was clearly waiting for him to break, but he stayed mute. Isobel didn't know Oliver or Angelina well enough to fill the quiet, so she just watched the scenery pass, trying not to feel like she'd accidentally boarded someone else's drama.

"So, Ang—how've you been?" George asked, leaning forward slightly from the back.

"I've been better," Angelina replied from the drivers seat. "Quidditch was going great... until the Ministry started checking wands at the turnstiles."

"They're arresting people at Quidditch matches now?" Isobel asked, shifting uncomfortably in the middle seat between Fred and George.

"Oh no," Angelina said with a humourless laugh. "They'd never be that obvious. Wouldn't fit their 'everything's fine' narrative, would it? No, they're just doing enough to scare people—especially muggleborns. Wand checks, random searches, intimidation tactics. Just enough to push them further underground."

"That's awful," Isobel muttered, her voice tight with anger.

"We tried to strike," said Angelina. "All of us—players from every team. But the Ministry threatened us with treason. So... we kept playing."

"Same here," Oliver added from the passenger's seat. "We talked about walking off. Next thing we knew, we were getting watched."

"They can't do that," George said. "That's against freedom of speech."

"Oh, we're free to speak," Angelina said bitterly. "They just make sure there are consequences."

"And we're more useful out here than locked up," Oliver added. "For now."

After a moment, Isobel glanced toward Angelina. "Speaking of... what were you helping Xeno with?"

Angelina met her eyes in the rearview mirror and gave a small smile. "Knew you'd ask. He wanted my help looking into something—something he said Dumbledore had been working on. Thought my mum's old research diaries might have clues."

"What kind of work?" George asked, brow furrowing.

Angelina's expression sobered. "Something called a Horcrux."

The car went quiet.

"I don't know why Dumbledore was interested in them, not at first. But once I figured out how they're made..." Her voice trailed off. "It's horrific. You have to commit murder to tear your soul—and then you seal that torn piece inside an object."

"Sounds painful," said Oliver.

"Sounds insane," George muttered.

"I wonder why Dumbledore would study something like that," Isobel said quietly. "I didn't even know your mum was an archaeologist."

"Specialist in Dark magic, technically," Angelina corrected. "Mostly cursed objects. But she taught me the Unforgivable Curses too. That's why I was surprised I wasn't asked to help at the Astronomy Tower earlier this year."

She looked up again in the mirror—and this time, her eyes locked with Fred's.

George and Isobel followed her gaze. Fred had been staring out the window, feigning disinterest—but his posture stiffened.

"Don't look at me," he said. "We barely had five minutes' notice before we were yanked out of the shop and sent straight to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, but Dad asked if we knew anyone who could help," George said pointedly.

Fred snapped his head around. "And you didn't send an owl because—?"

"Because you told me not to?"

"Okay, okay, enough," Angelina interrupted. "Merlin's sake, don't bicker. I get it, Fred. I really do. You didn't want me caught up in it. But honestly—you know I would've come."

"I know," Fred muttered. "I just... I didn't want to put you in an uncomfortable position."

He shifted back to turn against the window. "Like this," he added under his breath.

Angelina sighed and turned slightly in her seat, her voice softer now. "I'll always show up for Hogwarts. For you. For both of you. No matter how much of a dick you were."

Fred's jaw softened at her admission. Perhaps he was on the defensive because he thought she would be mad at him, but she wasn't. Isobel spoke up, trying to cut through the growing tension in the car.

"I wouldn't feel too bad," she said, her voice even. "I actually had the chance to help—and I blew it. So at least you don't have that guilt."

Fred turned to her, brows raised. "What? Since when?"

She shrugged. "It's a crap story. Not really worth telling."

Fred leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Another secret? How many more haven't you told me?"

"You never asked me about it."

"Oh i'm sorry," he said, sarcastic, "I didn't think to say, 'Hey, where were you the night Dumbledore was murdered?'"

"That's not my fault."

"What did you do?" Angelina asked, eyeing her curiously.

"Yeah, go on, Monroe," Oliver added. "Spill. Think of it as bonding time—we barely know you. Secret for a secret."

Isobel huffed, arms folding. "Fine. Long story short: I was on my prefect patrols that night. My assigned area was the seventh floor—"

"Wait, you were a prefect?" George interrupted. "After everything with the Inquisitorial Squad?"

"Flitwick let me off. I agreed to testify at Umbridge's hearing."

"You testified against Umbridge?" Angelina blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yep. I was the only student they thought couldn't be biased." Isobel rolled her eyes. "Didn't make much difference. She's still high up in the Ministry. But Flitwick and Dumbledore agreed it earned me the right to be a prefect. I still had the best exam scores in my house."

"Of course you did," Fred muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Anyway," Isobel continued, "I was doing my patrol. Everything was quiet, so I was heading back to Ravenclaw Tower when I heard footsteps—hurried ones. I peeked around the corner and saw Draco. He was going into the Room of Requirement."

"You knew about the Room?" Angelina asked, frowning.

Isobel sighed. This "short story" was growing longer by the second.

"Already covered that," George said. "She's the one who told Dobby, who told Harry."

"Wait, that was your fifth year, right?" Angelina said. "Weren't you in—"

"No, slightly before," Fred cut in. "Also covered. Turns out Miss Ice Queen wasn't as frozen as we thought."

"Figures," said Angelina. "You never punished me like the others did."

"I didn't enjoy it like they did," Isobel said simply.

"So what happened with Malfoy?" Oliver asked. He wasn't at Hogwarts at this time, so he couldn't care less about Dumbledore's Army.

"I followed him. Stayed quiet. He was... off. More than usual. I saw the Vanishing Cabinet. And who came out of it. I panicked and tailed them through the castle. I was careful—silent. They headed up to the Astronomy Tower. Draco was at the back, so I pulled him aside. Tried to talk him down. Reminded him he didn't have to do what they wanted."

"And?"

"Well... you know how that night ended. He didn't listen. Bellatrix called for him. I begged him, one last time. He didn't say anything—just blasted me back into a wall. At the time, I thought he might have been trying to protect me. But now I realise—he wasn't. It was just the beginning. His first taste of what it meant to turn on people like me."

"Muggleborn," George said quietly.

Isobel nodded. "If I knew then what I know now... I would've fought back. But I didn't. I froze. And in doing that, I probably helped the rest of it unfold."

"Damn," Oliver said, subdued. "Sorry, Monroe."

"You couldn't have known," George added gently.

"If that were me, he'd have had a statue to the head," said Angelina. "But you were brave. Braver than most. Boys never listen to reason—especially ones like him."

Fred leaned in, close enough for his words to tickle her ear. "She means boys like me."

The heat of his breath brushed her skin with this inside joke they shared, and for a moment it was like she was back in front of the fire last night—too warm, too close, and unable to move.

Isobel stiffened, heart suddenly pounding.

"I heard that," said Angelina dryly. "And damn right."

They arrived a couple of hours after, the car crunching to a stop on a gravel drive that led to a weathered-looking cottage nestled in a thicket of trees. Oliver and Angelina got out first, stretching and talking quietly as they scouted the surroundings. George followed, mumbling something about needing a moment to "walk off the tension."

That left Isobel alone in the car—almost. Fred hadn't moved.

She sat quietly for a moment, hoping the feelings from earlier had settled. They hadn't.

"You alright?" Fred asked, his voice low.

She nodded, then didn't. "Yeah. I mean... no. That story—Angelina's—about Horcruxes. And everything. It just kind of made it real again. Reminded me that we are just a small part of what's going on out there, and we have been for years without realising."

Fred didn't respond right away. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the back of the back seat, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

"I get it," he said, "sometimes I think about how much we all missed. All the things that were happening, right under our noses. We should've known better."

Isobel turned to look at him. "You couldn't have known."

"Yeah, but you did." His voice was quiet. "Take the Astronomy Tower. You saw it starting. You tried to stop it. And I..." He trailed off, then scoffed, bitter. "I was busy making joke fireworks at our shop."

"Fred stop," she said, sharper than intended. "Don't downplay what you do. You and George keep people going. You give them hope, even when everything feels like it was falling apart. I didn't like you much but I still noticed that, and you still do it now."

Fred met her gaze then, really met it. And something in his expression softened.

"You don't have to do that," he said, tilting his head slightly.

"Do what?"

"Defend me. Even when I don't deserve it."

Isobel gave a faint, tired smile. "You're not as undeserving as you think."

Silence fell between them, but it was a different kind this time—heavier, denser. The kind that held more than it said. Then Fred leaned back slightly, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

"So...sorry I've got ask this to get it off my chest," he said anxiously. "Last night, did you also-"

"Oi are you coming you two or not?" Said Oliver Wood, banging on Fred's door window.

For just another few seconds, neither of them moved, Isobel waiting for Fred to finish his question. Her heart skipped a beat as she anticipated what he would say, but Fred, caught of guard, decided the moment was gone. He turned to Oliver and smiled, reaching for the door handle to push it open.

Regretting what she was sure was a missed opportunity, Isobel followed him out to exit the car. She walked over to the George as Fred took his bag out of the boot, and stood by him, her stomach growling loudly—it was well past lunchtime and they hadn't eaten yet.

"We really should've packed food," she muttered, rubbing her stomach as she tried to forget what had just happened and act normal.

"We're just scoping out the place first," George replied. "We'll grab something once we've found the camp."

Isobel was about to blame herself for not thinking ahead when a familiar red-and-yellow packet appeared in front of her.

"Fizzing Whizbees—you like these, don't you?" Fred said, already popping one into his mouth, his voice casual, but his eyes watching her reaction.

She blinked, then took the packet from his hand with a small smile. "They're my favourite, actually."

Fred gave a satisfied nod. "Figured."

He lingered for just a beat too long before turning to offer another packet of sweets to Oliver and Angelina.

Isobel watched as he held the bag out to his ex, a hesitant gesture that looked a lot like an olive branch. Angelina took one, said something under her breath, and Fred laughed—a genuine, familiar laugh that once belonged to something more.

Isobel's stomach tightened, and it had nothing to do with hunger. She looked away, clutching the sweets in her grip, her appetite suddenly gone.

"He remembered your favourite," George said, still wearing the same teasing tone he'd had that morning.

Isobel rolled her eyes, she didn't want to mention to George what Fred had said in the car just yet. He already made a bigger deal of things than needed to be. "It's just sweets. Anyone can remember that."

"Do you actually remember telling him, though?"

She frowned, thinking. "Yeah... once. When you made me cover for you so you could sneak off to Hogsmeade. That was years ago."

George raised his eyebrows and gave her one of those smug, infuriating looks she knew all too well. "Exactly. I rest my case."

***

This place was worse than the last camp where they freed Dean Thomas. So much worse.

Last time, there was only one cage. Now there was a whole line of them, stretching down a muddy line of barbed wire and steel. The others had been waystations. This felt like a destination. A final one.

The centre. The last stop before Semperess.

"Merlin," Angelina breathed, staring through the bush that they were all hiding behind. "There's got to be over a hundred Muggleborns in there."

"It's not just Muggleborns," Oliver said, his voice flat. "It's anyone they've branded a threat. Dissenters. Half-bloods who married 'wrong'. Squibs. Blood traitors."

Isobel's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you think Remus and Tonks were kept here?"

Fred didn't answer at first. His eyes flicked over every cage, every hunched figure. A girl with blood on her shirt. A boy with no shoes. A man who wouldn't lift his head.

"Yeah," he said finally, and his voice broke on the word. "Probably."

"We need to get in," Isobel said. "We're too close to turn back now."

"No. We can't just rush it," Oliver snapped. "One spell fired, one wrong move—they'll have us down in seconds."

"We found the keys last time," George said. "That's how we got the others out."

"That was a different place," Fred replied. "A different level of security. This... this is something else."

"Then what? Just find Percy and hope he spills state secrets?"

"Assuming he's not just here to count the dead," said Isobel.

They didn't have to wonder where he was for long. A shimmer in the air, then a crack—Percy Weasley Apparated into view, wearing a pinstriped Ministry suit so crisp it looked ironed by magic. His spectacles glinted coldly in the low light, balanced neatly on the bridge of his nose.

He didn't look around. Just walked from cage to cage, scribbling on a clipboard, counting the human beings inside like inventory.

Fred's voice was low, venomous. "He's treating them like livestock."

"He never had much empathy begin with," Oliver said, "did he?"

"I used to feel sorry for him," Angelina murmured.

Fred didn't even turn. "Yeah. And now you see why that was a mistake. He's always been a self-serving bastard. Only now, they've given him a title for it."

Isobel narrowed her eyes. "They've separated the boys and girls."

"What?"

"Look," she pointed. "Men on one side. Women on the other. That wasn't the case at the last camp."

Angelina followed her gaze. Her face went pale.

The two girls shared a look. No words. Just the horrible understanding that passed between them, unspoken but certain. They'd seen this before—in whispers, in warnings. The kind of evil no one wanted to say aloud.

"I don't want to think what that means," Angelina said.

"Then don't," Oliver muttered. "We're here to stop it. If we stick to the trees, we can shadow Percy. If he heads toward Semperess, we'll follow him in."

Everyone nodded.

"Yeah—wait," Angelina said sharply. "Where are Fred and George?"

Isobel looked down to her left. The twins were right there a second ago, and now they were gone.

"There!" Oliver pointed.

Through the trees, they could see the twins sprinting across the open ground, veering toward the shed Percy had disappeared into.

"What the hell are they doing?" Oliver hissed, his jaw tight.

"Something stupid," Angelina growled, eyes narrowed. "Something they'll regret."

Isobel's breath caught up to her.

"I think I know," she said. Her voice was hollow now. "Fred's been furious at Percy for years. He's going to confront him."

She turned to run.

"I'll be right back—"

"Isobel, no!" Oliver shouted, but it was too late.

She vanished into the trees, carefully keeping out of sight from the guards as she trailed the twins. They headed straight for Percy's hut, pushing open the door to confront him, while Isobel crept silently around the back, crouching beneath a dusty window to watch the scene unfold.

"Hello, brother," Fred said coldly, the word laced with venom.

Percy looked up sharply, startled. When he saw Fred and George standing in the doorway, his face drained of colour. He slammed the file he'd been reading onto the desk.

"What the hell are you doing here? This location is restricted to Ministry personnel with Level Seven clearance."

"Ministry personnel and innocent witches and wizards, you mean," George said. "Didn't know you needed clearance now to imprison people for existing."

Percy sneered, not rising from his chair. "You wouldn't understand. You never did."

"Oh, we understand plenty," Fred snapped. "We understand that if you had the chance, you'd throw us in one of those cages without blinking."

Percy stood abruptly. "You're on the most wanted list," he growled. "You brought that on yourselves."

"For trying to save people," Fred shot back. "People like Remus Lupin, like Tonks, like a dozen others trapped in your filthy little system. I'd rather be hunted for doing what's right than be rewarded for selling out."

George stepped closer. "What happened to you? You used to talk about justice, about integrity. Now you're handing over our friends like they're criminals. You tried to arrest us the last time you saw us."

Percy rounded the desk, eyes narrowed. "What happened to me? I grew up. Not everyone gets to prance around all day breeding Pygmy—whatever-the-hells."

"Pygmy Puffs," Fred said sharply. "Which we bred for Ginny, by the way. She lost her last one. Not that you'd know or care."

Outside, Isobel's breath tightened. Her cheeks burned—not from shame, but from something else. Fred always cared. He pretended not to, but when it came to his family, especially Ginny, his heart showed.

Fred's voice softened just slightly. "When's the last time you spoke to her? Or Mum? Or Dad?"

Percy's jaw clenched. "It's been a long time. I tried. But none of you would listen. You were all so obsessed with rebellion, with fighting, you couldn't see reason. So I stopped trying."

"It's not obsession," George said. "It's courage."

"It's recklessness!"

"And you're a coward!" Fred roared.

"I chose survival!" Percy shouted back. "You think I like this? You think I enjoy sending people into that hellhole? People I know? Remus Lupin helped me pass my N.E.W.T.s. and I had to process him myself!"

Their voices were rising—too loud, even from outside. Isobel raised her wand and murmured, "Quietus Maxima." A shimmer of yellow flickered around the cabin, then vanished. Their argument became a distant hum to the outside world.

Inside, it burned hotter.

"If I don't do this job, someone worse will," Percy said. "Someone who won't think twice. I do what I must."

Fred laughed bitterly. "You call this mercy? You call it mercy to sentence Lupin to be a monster—to force him to turn prisoners? That's mercy?"

"I have no hand in that."

"You run the prison!" George yelled. "You don't get to wash your hands of this!"

Percy straightened his glasses, feigning composure, but he was sweating now. "The experiments are outsourced. I simply provide logistical support."

"To the Death Eaters?" George snapped. "Call them what they are. You collaborate with murderers."

"Everyone has colleagues they can't stand," Percy muttered. "It's no different."

Isobel's stomach turned. That Percy could compare Death Eaters to annoying coworkers—she couldn't believe it. Once, she had admired him. Now he was a hollow man in a polished suit.

Fred stepped forward. His voice dropped to something deadly. "If this job is so unbearable, why stay?"

Percy's answer came without hesitation. "Because I want to live. Better to be inside looking out than outside looking in."

Fred's eyes darkened. "You're a disgrace. If Dad knew what you were doing, he'd drop dead."

"Dad's going to die anyway," Percy said coldly. "You think this war has a happy ending? You're fighting a battle that's already lost. Their forces are too big. You don't have the numbers. If you had any sense, you'd step aside. We're pure-bloods. We're protected."

Fred's wand was suddenly in his hand, aimed straight at Percy's chest. "We fight because we are pure-bloods," he said, voice shaking with rage. "Because that gives us the power—and the obligation—to protect those they would destroy."

Percy's gaze shifted slightly. Past Fred.

To Isobel, who had been so angered by his words that she had walked around to the front door and walked in.

And in that moment, he saw his opportunity.

"Oh, like her?" he said, with a cruel smile. "The one who tortured two pure-bloods under the regime she now claims to hate? A Mudblood with a vendetta against the purer class—do you really think she's worth protecting?"

Fred and George turned, startled to see her standing in the doorway, her face pale and lips tight with fury. Isobel had always seen Percy as the serious one, the smart one, the reliable one. But Fred had been right from the start.

Percy was the one she should have hated.

"Iz—what are you doing here?" George hissed. "If the guards see you—"

"Get back where it's safe," Fred ordered. "I don't want you to see what I'm about to do."

"No," Isobel said. Her voice was like ice. She stepped between them, staring Percy down. "I want to hear it. I want to hear why you think your blood makes you more valuable than mine."

Percy squared his shoulders. "I have a duty to arrest you," he said, cool and precise. "You're a Muggleborn and a known traitor. It's my job."

He had no shame. Only that same smug, polished arrogance.

"You so much as touch her," Fred growled, pressing the wand hard against Percy's chest, "and I swear I will paint your walls with your blood. Try me."

Isobel's heart pounded. With those words, something clicked into place inside her—something solid, something certain. Fred's fury wasn't just rage. It was loyalty.

She was falling for him. It made her want to vomit, but she was.

Shit.

"What he said," said George, nodding in agreement as he pointed his wand upwards, "consider her under our personal protection. You'll have to go through us first."

Percy flinched slightly, just enough to show the wand was getting to him. He looked between the three of them—Fred's rage, George's silence, Isobel's steady stare—and for a moment, the mask cracked. He didn't look like a Ministry man. He looked like a boy who had spent too long convincing himself that the cold was warmth.

"This isn't about blood," he muttered, trying to sound calm. "It's about order. The world was falling apart. The Ministry—this Ministry—restored stability. That's what people wanted."

"They wanted safety, not tyranny," Isobel said. "You know the difference, Percy. You used to know."

"If I didn't do this, someone else would," he repeated weakly, as if saying it louder made it more true.

Fred's jaw clenched. "That's the last lie you get to tell us."

Percy raised his chin. "You're all so noble, aren't you? Playing heroes in a doomed cause. But I'll be the one still breathing when it's over. That's what matters."

Fred slowly lowered his wand. Not out of mercy—but because what came next didn't require it.

He took a step forward. Close enough that Percy could feel the heat of his breath. "You want to know the real difference between us?" Fred whispered. "You've sold out everyone you love to keep your seat at this cursed table, but we would've burnt the whole thing down just so you didn't have to. That's family."

Percy's smugness faltered.

Fred's fist met his face.

The punch cracked through the cabin like a thunderclap. Percy stumbled back, knocking into the desk, glasses flying off his nose and clattering to the floor. Blood streamed from his mouth, his expression twisted in stunned outrage.

He didn't speak. Couldn't.

Fred stood over him, chest heaving, eyes blazing. "That," he said, "was for Remus. For Tonks. For everyone in those cages. And for Mum—for what you've done to her heart."

Percy clutched his jaw, glaring up at him, but didn't move. Not a word.

Isobel stepped beside Fred. She didn't touch him, but he felt her presence like an anchor. George stood on the other side, his silence sharper than anything he could've said.

"We need to go," George muttered. "Someone will notice we're here soon."

Fred didn't look at Percy again. Just turned, wand still clenched tight in his hand, and walked towards the door.

Percy was left in the wreckage—papers scattered, mouth bleeding, alone with the truth.

Fred reached for the door handle, but it suddenly slammed into his chest as Oliver and Angelina burst through, sending him stumbling backward.

"Bloody hell, Oliver!" Fred groaned, rubbing his ribs. "You nearly knocked us—"

"Shut it," Oliver hissed, throwing a hand toward the window.

Everyone froze and turned. Outside, shadows flickered across the stone courtyard. Then, clear as day, the platinum-blond head of Draco Malfoy appeared, flanked by none other than his father, Lucius. A guard stood beside them at the farthest cage, unlocking it with a sharp clang. He yanked a goblin out by the arm and shoved him into Lucius's grip. With a cold flick of his wand, silver chains coiled around the goblin's wrists.

"That's Griphook," George said quietly. "He works with Bill at Gringotts."

"Why would the Malfoys need a goblin?" Isobel asked, frowning. "They already have vaults at Gringotts. They basically run the Ministry now. What could they possibly want from him?"

Angelina's eyes didn't leave the window, her voice low and tight. "I have a theory, but I'd rather not be here long enough to see if I'm right."

A tense silence followed. Then, she turned sharply on her heel.

"Let's move. I'm starving, and I don't fancy being chained up next."

Chapter Text

The door groaned open under George's whispered charm, old hinges resisting like the house itself wasn't sure about letting them in. One by one, the five of them slipped through the narrow doorway into the saftey of Oliver's cousin's cottage. It was crooked and half-sunken, nestled between thick pines whose branches clawed at the slate roof. A place frozen in time. Perfect for ghosts—and fugitives.

Inside, it was warmer than expected. The lingering scent of peat smoke curled with something vaguely floral—lavender or nettle, Isobel couldn't tell—but it felt like comfort, or the closest thing to it that they'd seen all day. The walls were low-beamed and close, and the rug beneath their feet was threadbare yet soft from years of use. It reminded her of her nan's house, with an added touch of lunacy that the Lovegoods liked in their interior design.

Fred's knees ached. His knuckles still buzzed from the punch. But he didn't dare collapse—not yet.

Oliver shut the door behind them with a decisive click, his wand casting a quick lock charm. "Eoin's away visiting Grandma in Donegal," he said, voice low. "We've got the place to ourselves for a couple of nights. Maybe more."

Angelina let her bag slide from her shoulder and collapsed onto the faded velvet sofa, limbs heavy with exhaustion. "I swear, my legs are going to declare a mutiny."

No one answered. They were all too spent. None of them had stopped running since the camp—not after seeing the Malfoys, not after Percy. Not after Fred's fist connected with a face that used to sit across from him at the breakfast table.

Isobel moved straight for the window, her wand already flicking through soft, precise movements. She pulled the floral curtain back and peered out into the dimming night sky. Light rain was now falling from the clouds, and the water droplets were hitting the glass, racing down to the bottom. Isobel was glad to see that it was the only thing moving outside.

"We're far enough," she told the group, eyes scanning the treeline. "No one followed us."

Fred stood in the centre of the room, his heart still thudding, his body having adrenaline that it refused to drain. His hand throbbed in time with his pulse. The image of Percy's stunned, bleeding face wouldn't leave him. Neither would the sound it made when the blow landed—like something cracked open that had been held shut for too long.

George sidled up beside him. Quiet, but watching.

"You alright?" he whispered to him.

Fred let out a dry, breathless laugh, letting out all of his remaining frustration. "I just punched our brother. And I enjoyed it," he said, "is that bad?"

George didn't try to talk him down. They both had lived the same experience with Percy, so he understood without judgment. "He betrayed people we cared about," he told him, "he made that choice."

"I know," Fred said. "That's the worst part. He chose it."

A silence fell between them as Fred glanced toward Isobel, who still lingered near the window, her jaw tight and her hand hovering a little too long over the edge of the windowsill like she needed to touch something solid. She looked pale in the dim light, all sharp edges and fierce grace.

Isobel noticed him staring, and she thought about what he could've been thinking. Maybe he was wondering if she was thinking about what he had done, too. Whether, like George, she had approved of his actions, or if she was quietly holding reservations about it.

He didn't need to worry. She agreed with him.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Dinner, sort of," he said, emerging from a low cupboard with a half-loaf of bread and a dusty pot of jam. "It's this or we start gnawing on the rug."

Angelina cracked a tired grin from the sofa. "I'll take anything right now."

They gathered around the wooden kitchen table, a mismatched collection of plates and chipped mugs between them filled with the only thing in the fridge - apple juice. The meal was humble, with bread and jam, and considering how they were all feeling, it felt like a feast. For a moment, with the wind howling outside and the warmth of food in their hands, everything at the camp felt just far enough away to forget.

"So," George said, tearing off a bit of bread, "the goblin. Griphook. What do we think they want with him?"

Angelina leaned forward, her voice low, serious now. "There are rumours. I'm sure you've heard them—about magical artefacts. Objects You-Know-Who wants. Cursed. Powerful. Hard to destroy, but can destroy everything else like slicing butter."

Isobel's voice was sharp. "You mean the Horcruxes?"

The word hung like frost in the air. Fred and George shuddered at the mention of the word.

Angelina nodded but also shook her head at the same time. "Yes and no. I think the horcruxes are an idea, but nobody's ever seen one, as You-Know-Who would have to keep them hidden. That's why Dumbledore was investigating it himself. However, the Death Eaters are looking for something else. Powerful objects - weapons of war. And if they are... Griphook would know how to get to it. Especially if there's something hidden in the vaults at Gingotts."

Oliver cursed under his breath as he swallowed the crust he had been saving. "And the Malfoys... they wouldn't risk being seen unless it was big."

Fred stared down at his half-eaten bread, the tension returning to his shoulders like a shadow. "If they find one... and use it..."

"They'd be unbeatable," Isobel said gloomily.

George suddenly lost his appetite. "We find it before they do," he said, "whatever it is. We find it and we destroy it before they can use it."

"Or use it against them," Fred suggested, raising an eyebrow. Isobel gave him an agreeing look, though after seeing what he could do with his fists, she'd doubt he'd need it.

Oliver rubbed his eyes, the tiredness of two days' travel starting to catch up with him. "This is bigger than any of us thought."

Angelina glanced at Fred, and Isobel noticed her bite her lip, like she wanted to say something but couldn't. She thought it could be because Angelina still saw him as her person, to whom she would turn for comfort in times like these. She didn't blame her, because Isobel felt the same way.

"This isn't about revenge anymore," said Isobel.

George shook his head slowly. "It's about making sure they don't win this war."

Outside, the wind rattled through the pines like whispered curses whilst rain pellets danced off the roof. Inside, five shadows sat around a table, no longer running away from danger, but facing it head-on.

***

The fire was dying, the flames now just a soft collection of embers sinking into ash as the clock chimed midnight. The light it gave off was barely enough to hold back the shadows, which curled and flickered against the walls, as if they were alive, breathing with the silence that filled the cottage.

The others had gone to sleep, one by one. Oliver had been the first to go, taking one of the bedrooms upstairs as he snored. George had slumped into the sagging armchair near the window and hadn't moved since, his mouth open slightly, snoring. And the rest quickly followed suit.

Isobel was sleeping on the sofa near the fireplace, curled in a wool blanket that smelled of pine needles and mothballs. A book lay open in her lap, its spine splayed carelessly as if it had been there for hours. She hadn't turned the page in nearly half an hour. The words had started to blur long before her eyes closed.

But then she was woken up by a sound that didn't belong. A laugh. Sharp and sudden.

Her eyes flicked open, slow and heavy-lidded. She blinked against the dim glow of the firelight. At first, she thought it had been a dream—but no, there it was again: hushed voices, a giggle muffled behind the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the sitting room.

She froze, pulse quickening.

Fred. And Angelina.

Talking. Laughing. Whispering.

Something in her chest coiled tight. A slow, sick twist of heat that started behind her ribs and spread outward. Her ears strained, her eyes lowered to the forgotten page on her lap as she tried to make her body seem still—uninvolved—while she focused intently.

Angelina. It had been Angelina who laughed.

Isobel shifted slightly, repositioning her blanket with a quiet, deliberate motion, as if the act of moving could dispel the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing beneath her skin. Fred and Angelina had barely said two words alone all day—so why now, when everyone else was asleep, did it feel like they were catching up on lost time?

"...You remember that match against Hufflepuff?" Angelina's voice carried just enough to hear. There was a tired warmth in it. Fondness. "You gave Katie that cheering charm before she took the penalty. We almost lost."

Fred chuckled. "Was worth it. If she'd just aimed straight—"

"You always had a weird sense of strategy," Angelina murmured.

A pause followed. It stretched.

Fred's voice dropped a little, more intimate. "Didn't hear you complaining then."

Isobel closed the book without realising it. Her fingers dug into the front cover until the pressure left a faint crease, her thumbs pressing so hard into it that it stung. Her heart began to hammer, beating so violently that it filled her ears, drowning out the rest of the house.

What was this feeling? She didn't have the language for it—only that it burned and tangled and twisted something in her. She wasn't sure if she was angry, or hurt, or just... afraid.

She stood up, the blanket sliding off her shoulders and around her mid-waist. She meant to go upstairs. Really, she did. To walk away. To not care.

But instead, her feet betrayed her.

They carried her toward the kitchen, toward the soft sound of laughter and low voices. Her chest thudded louder with each step.

She saw them there.

Fred and Angelina were seated at the dining table, their bodies angled in toward each other. The space between them was close—intimate. Their knees nearly brushed under the table as they spoke like the war didn't exist, like the night was theirs and theirs alone. There was a stillness between them, the kind that belonged to people who knew each other too well.

Fred looked up first. His expression shifted—just slightly—when he saw her standing there in the doorway, dishevelled and sleepy-eyed, but alert. "Hey," he said. Something unreadable flickered across his face. "Didn't think you were still up."

Her voice came out thin. Tighter than she meant. "Couldn't sleep."

Angelina leaned back a little, subtly adjusting her seat, the motion small but noticeable. She moved a few inches away from Fred, maybe out of politeness. Maybe not. "Sorry if we woke you."

Isobel's eyes flicked between them. Fred's mug was still half-full, and he sat comfortably, turned toward Angelina, one leg drawn up onto the seat in that careless way he never used around people he didn't feel safe with.

He looked too relaxed. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

She smiled, or at least tried to. It hurt a little to force it our. "You didn't. There's just a lot to think about."

Fred patted the chair across from him. Not beside him. Opposite.

"Come sit," he smiled. "We were just mocking Angelina's glorious Quidditch dictatorship."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "I was a tactical visionary, thank you very much."

Isobel hesitated at the edge of the room, then stepped forward slowly and took the seat Fred had offered. She pulled the wool blanket tighter around her legs, the scent of mothballs clinging to her like armour.

The words slipped out of her before she could stop them. "I thought you two weren't on such good terms," she said.

It wasn't quite an accusation. But it wasn't harmless either. The air in the room changed—just slightly—as the meaning behind her words sank in. Maybe she had said too much. Maybe she had given something away. The thing she had worked so hard to keep hidden.

Her jealousy.

Angelina gave a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah. We weren't," she said, stealing a glance of Fred to check that he was on the same page, "but I think today has changed how we look back on things. Life's too short to hold grudges when there's a war on."

Fred didn't say anything. He was watching Isobel too closely, his jaw tight, studying her. Reading her.

Isobel felt like she was under a spell—paralysed and exposed. She knew he was waiting for her response, and she had to be careful now. If she had misread everything—every glance, every shared laugh—then she was about to make a fool of herself. Worse, she was about to fracture something that didn't need to break.

"Makes sense," she replied, her tone too bright, too carefully optimistic. "I'm glad we can all be friends here. We need each other."

Fred opened his mouth, then stopped himself. Whatever he had planned to say, he didn't.

Angelina looked between them. And then, perhaps sensing something that hadn't been said aloud, she stood. She picked up her mug with a soft clink of ceramic on wood. "I should check on the others before I sleep, and stuff a pillow over Oliver's head to stop him from keeping the whole house up."

As she passed Fred, her hand touched his shoulder—just a quick press of fingers, casual but familiar. It stung more than Isobel thought it would. "You'll do second watch?" she asked.

Fred nodded, without needing to think about it. "Yeah. Sure."

Angelina smiled quietly to herself and disappeared up the stairs, her steps as light and effortless as her presence.

Isobel sat still, her hands folded beneath the table like they were trying to hide her clenched fists. Her skin buzzed uncomfortably, like something inside her had gone wrong. She thought of all the times she had gone easy on Angelina during Inquisitorial Squad detentions, all the ways she'd let her off the hook—unspoken lenience, and averted eyes when needed. Everything now seemed like a betrayal.

She knew it was irrational. She knew it wasn't fair. Angelina's only crime was having a pleasant conversation with someone she used to care about.

But knowing that didn't make the jealousy vanish. If anything, it made it worse. Because now it had nowhere to go. It just sat inside her, pulsing hot beneath her ribs.

Fred didn't speak. He leaned back in his chair, mug in hand, staring into the grain of the table like he could read answers in the wood.

Eventually, he said, "It was a long time ago, you know. Me and her."

Isobel didn't ask what he meant by this. She just replied flatly, "It's none of my business. I'm glad you worked it out. We need her."

His dark, tired eyes flicked up. His sight was sharp at first as he expressed surprise, but then it softened as he saw the indisputable look of sadness on her face. "Isobel..."

She cut him off immediately, speaking too fast and too firmly. "As I said, it's none of my business," she told him, her smile as brittle as the nails she was picking at. "Honestly Fred, you don't have to explain anything to me."

She didn't need his pity.

"But I want to," he said, and leaned forward on the table to turn his whole body towards her. "We're friends."

He said it almost as if it were a question, as if he wanted her to agree. Like he needed her to.

Now she was sure—she'd read it all wrong. All the late nights, the secret glances, the moment by the fire... they hadn't meant what she thought they did. To him, she was just a friend.

"Yeah... friends," she said softly. Then, daring herself to look up, she added, "So okay, let's do girl talk. What is it? Did the old feelings come up again or—?"

She hated that she had asked. She hated herself for wanting the answer and not wanting it all at once. It was only going to hurt her feelings.

"We never got closure," he answered, which didn't clarify anything for her.

"And that's what this was?" she asked, her heart beating so fast she thought she might keel over. "Closure?"

Fred ran his hands through his hair, sagging into his seat. Isobel watched his every move. "I guess so," he sighed, "It's weird, up until today, I thought she hated me."

"So that's what was holding you back from keeping in touch?" Isobel asked, "you thinking she hated you?"

She was trying to find out if he still had feelings for her, and if so, if he had any regrets about how they had treated each other during their time together, particularly about the breakup. People learn, people change; she could understand it.

She didn't want it to be the case, but she could understand it.

"I'm not really in the business of begging people that hate me to like me," Fred laughed to himself.

Isobel smiled back at him in support. What he said didn't confirm anything, but he didn't admit straight out that he still had feelings. "You managed to do it with me," she shrugged.

"Yeah, but that was different," he said, glancing up at her before picking up his mug and taking a sip,

"How so?"

Fred took another sip, and it felt like hours went by instead of seconds. It acted as his breathing time, his thinking time before answering, and it tortured her.

"Because I care about you," he answered finally.

The sentence hit her like a rock to the chest. She tried not to get too happy - he could still mean as a friend or a little sister - but still, her mind became dizzy with happiness.

"You care about Angelina," she said, trying to prompt a confession out of him again with one way or another.

That caught his breath. The words landed heavily between them.

"Again," he said, "that's different."

"How?"

Fred began to laugh. She didn't know why; she hadn't said anything funny or ironic. "Iz...are you really going to make me spill it out to you?"

Before they could say anything else, a creak split the air upstairs, interrupting them entirely. A floorboard above had been pounded against - with nothing like Angelina's graceful steps.

Fred's head snapped upwards towards the ceiling, his fighting instincts kicking in. "Did you hear that?"

Isobel nodded, every nerve in her body sharpening. That wasn't someone from the house. That didn't feel familiar.

"Someone's gotten into the house," she whispered.

Fred stood immediately, his mug forgotten as he moved toward the stairs. From the armchair behind them, George groaned and stirred, blinking sleepily.

"Angelina sleepwalking again?" he mumbled, rubbing his face.

Fred didn't laugh. And neither did Isobel. For now, whatever jealousy Isobel was carrying was forgotten, replaced by the far more immediate danger waiting on the other side of that creaking floorboard.

"Unfortunately not," Fred snapped. "You better get up, I'm afraid I don't think we're as alone as we thought we were."

Oliver was already descending again, awake, and wand in hand. For such a deep sleeper, he looked wide awake and ready to go. "Did you hear that?" He asked, "it came from Angelina's room. I swear it, we were safe here, no one should've known—"

Then came the crack.

Apparition. From outside.

"Get ready," Fred muttered. "Something's out there."

The back door exploded open, green bolts of light slicing through the kitchen like lightning. Fred threw his wand arm out, a Protego charm erupting just in time to deflect a curse that hissed like acid.

"MOVE!" Oliver shouted, throwing Isobel behind him and grabbing a cast-iron pan quickly from the kitchen, hurling it at the first shadow through the door.

Isobel tried to see who was there through the spells. Through the flashes of light, she could see black cloaks that blended into the night, and glimpses of silver masks that only revealed the wearer's eyes.

Death Eaters.

Three of them entered, with maybe even more outside. They travelled in packs, as they were too cowardly to fight a powerful wizard one-on-one.

Isobel ducked behind the armchair as spells blasted through the room, shattering a lamp and sending embers spiralling across the floor. "Death Eaters!" she shouted, "its fucking Death Eaters!"

Fred and George moved like a practised pair, back to back, flinging hexes with deadly precision. As soon as she announced the attackers, they naturally moved back to her, protecting her. If a Death Eater caught her, Semperess would be a holiday camp compared to what they would do.

"Who gave us up?!" George shouted, firing a red jet of light down the hallway.

"Take a wild guess!" Fred snapped. "I'm going to wring Percy's bloody neck if we make it out if this alive!"

A fourth attacker burst through the front door—but Oliver caught them mid-step with a curse that lit up the whole wall. They crumpled.

Then came a scream from upstairs. High-pitched, feminine, and frightened.

Fred went pale. He turned to Isobel, as white as a sheet. "That's Angelina."

"The thud," said Isobel, fearing for Angelina's safety. "It came from her room, you don't think?-"

Fred bolted up the stairs without any further hesitation. Isobel chased after him, ready to back him up, her wand gripped so tightly that her knuckles ached.

On the landing, the door to the furthest bedroom was wide open.

Angelina stood at the far end near the bed, blood trailing down one side of her face and onto her t-shirt, wand raised at them. Beside her—tucked behind her leg, clutching at her robe—was a boy. No older than seven. Small. Dirt-smudged with dirty blonde hair, terrified at the noise downstairs.

"He climbed in through the window," she said breathlessly. "He was trying to get away—they're after him—they said he's it, he's what they're here for—"

A curse shattered the bannister beside Fred. He ducked, pulling Isobel down with him so that she didn't get hit.

"Then we need to get him out!" he shouted. "Otherwise, they'll blow the whole place up and take us with it!"

"I can't apparate with him," Angelina yelled. "He's underage—he's Traced—if it got back to my team that I took a fugitive-"

Isobel stood up and walked towards them, ducking a few spells as she stumbled into the bedroom. "I'll take him," she said, reassuringly to Angelina, "we're both wanted, they're after me anyway, it lets you and Oliver go free this way."

She grabbed the boy's hand and crouched down to his level. "Hi, I'm Isobel," she said kindly, "what's your name?"

The boy didn't answer. He just clung to her arm tightly. Isobel's heart broke, he was petrified.

Fred stepped forward, wand already raised behind him for protection. "I'll go with you."

"What?" Isobel asked, "no you have to stay here, fight with George. I'll come find you later once it's safe."

"Are you mad? I'm not letting you do this alone. We don't even know why they want him," said Fred, his tone expressing that he was not going to take no for an answer. "George can take care of himself and help here. Besides, we're all on the wanted list by now. I'll be protecting you, not hindering you."

Isobel had been brave in saying that she would go alone, but it was only when Fred insisted that he go with her that she realised she would have been too scared to do it. She needed him. His presence made her calm, and now she felt like she could do anything, no matter how scary.

Fred came to her side and took the boy's other arm. "Ready?" he asked her.

"No," Isobel said honestly, starting to shake. "But I guess we're doing it anyway."

CRACK.

The three of them landed hard in the clearing outside the forest they had visited earlier, half-falling, their breath knocked from their lungs.

The boy cried out, but not from pain—just shock. He may not have apparated before, and it would cause a first-timer to be quite confused.

Fred stayed crouched to the ground, wand still up, scanning the trees for some sign that they were alone.

"Where did you take us?" Isobel breathed. It was Fred who had chosen the place; she had just put her faith in him.

"I wanted to stay close," he said, "we're near the camp. But don't worry, we're far away enough so they can't see us."

Behind them, a pulse of green lit the sky in the distance, followed by a loud explosion. Isobel and Fred shared a look, one of dread - they both wished that the sound had nothing to do with the cottage.

"What do we do with him?" Fred asked her, pointing to the little boy who was curled up on the floor.

Isobel stared down at the boy pitifully, who had started to cry, sympathising with him. "We try and figure out why the Death Eaters wanted him," she replied. "He's one of us now."

Chapter Text

George's POV: Back at the cottage

The cottage was on fire.

Properly, now. Flames licked the rafters like greedy tongues, turning memory and shelter into smoke. The walls groaned under the heat. Bloody Death Eaters, saw they were losing and bloody set the place on fire.

George staggered backwards, half-dragging a stunned Death Eater through the narrow hallway to the kitchen. "That's three down," he shouted toward the living room. "How many did we count?"

"At least five came through the back!" Angelina yelled from the living room, wand moving in furious arcs as she battled two more Death Eaters. "More outside. Someone tipped them off, George—this was an ambush."

Oliver swore as a curse struck the floor inches from his feet, blowing a hole straight through the floorboards on the first floor. He kicked the smouldering carpet aside, and kicked the Death Eater he had just knocked out down through the hole. "We need an exit—NOW!"

George's heart pounded in his ears as the body Oliver kicked landed next to him in a crumpled pile. Fred was gone. Apparated. Just vanished with Isobel and the kid. No idea where. No clue as to how to get back to them. He felt a bit offended that they didn't take him along, but he understood from Angelina that it was a decision made in a split second of urgency.

Besides, with time alone, they might get the chance to get close enough to make sense of how they were feeling.

A jet of green light shot past Angelina's head, so close it burned a lock of her hair. She ducked and fired back a hex that sent their attacker spinning headfirst through the doorframe with a crunch.

"Oi, Wood!" George barked, sliding into the front room, blood running down the side of his temple. "How do you feel about jumping out of windows these days?"

Oliver glanced at the blazing staircase. He couldn't get down to the ground floor to join the two of them; he would have to climb out the window, right through where the boy had come from in the first place. "Better than burning alive, I reckon," he shouted down.

Angelina was already moving, grabbing the nearest armchair and smashing it against the nearest window with all the force she had. Glass shattered outward in a spray of glittering shrapnel.

George was next to her in an instant, covering her flank with rapid shield charms as another two masked figures emerged outside. "They're closing in!"

Oliver slashed his wand toward the open window. "Confringo!"

The explosion was deafening. The window frame blew outward, flinging smoke and shrapnel in every direction. The Death Eaters on the gravel outside went flying.

"Now!" George yelled.

Angelina didn't hesitate. She dove through the broken window of the living room, landing hard on the grass outside and rolling. Oliver followed from upstairs, wand blazing, laying down cover spells to shield their exit as he fell to the floor. George brought up the rear, blasting a collapsing beam off its hinges just before it fell across his back.

They sprinted straight across the ground, past the car, hearts thundering, and smoke trailing in their wake.

Behind them, the cottage let out one final groan before the roof caved in completely, sparks spiralling up into the night sky like the last breath of something that had tried, and failed, to stay safe.

They didn't stop running until the flames were no longer visible through the trees of the park opposite them. Just shadows and the echo of their breaths and the smell of smoke on their clothes.

Oliver leaned against a tree, coughing. "My cousin is going to kill me," he coughed, "Please tell me the others are still breathing somewhere."

Angelina nodded, grim. "Fred Apparated out with Isobel and the kid. I don't know where they went."

"They couldn't have gotten far," George breathed, "Fred wouldn't go too far away from here."

Happy that they were all alive, Oliver wiped soot from his face, jaw clenched. "That was no routine raid you know, they were out for blood."

"It was that boy," said Angelina, "he must be important to them."

George looked between them, worried. "We need to find them. And fast. Before they find Fred and Isobel."

Angelina met his eyes. "Before they try and kill them too."

***

Isobel's POV

"Easy," Fred muttered, pulling the boy closer to him as he almost fell down a rabbit hole. "Can't you falling over, can we? You're our brave soldier."

Isobel watched as the boy buried his face against his hips, gripping Fred tightly as they walked through the forest. He couldn't have been more than seven—bones too light, skin too pale. His clothes were tattered and filthy, and when Fred adjusted his grip, the boy's hand almost slipped through. That's how thin he was.

Fred was being good with him, and for that, she was grateful. She had never seen him around kids before, but he was a natural. Probably because of Ron and Ginny.

"Where precisely do you think we are?" she asked, looking around.

Fred scanned the clearing, still holding on to the boy. "East of the forest, I think—given where we can see the moon. Sorry, I didn't have time to think. Just aimed for somewhere not exploding."

The trees around them were tall and silent. No signs of pursuit—for now.

"You know where we are based on the moon?," Isobel asked, her voice impressed, though shaky. "Don't tell me you paid attention in astronomy."

"Are you telling me you didn't?" he asked her, eyebrow raised.

"Of course I did, got an outstanding," she bragged, "I just thought the organisation of the stars wouldn't be something you would be interested in. Too boring for you."

Fred scoffed. "Are you kidding me? Late night classes, staring up at the sky, learning all the cool names of the constellations, it was one of my favourites. You're not the only one who can get an outstanding Monroe."

Isobel smiled. Fred Weasley, the stargazer, she never could've imagined it. "I expect you to lead us then. Follow the stars Galileo."

Fred smirked and then looked down at the boy as he was strolling. "He withstood Apparition better than I thought he would."

"Yeah," she said, "that was the first part, but the question now is, who is he? And why did the Death Eaters want him?"

Fred agreed, and he stopped walking, causing the boy to accidentally wander in front of him and get gently pulled back. Fred bent down to his level so that their eyes could be level, and he smiled at the boy whose face was streaked with dirt. Haunted. Watchful. Old, in the way only war made a child old.

"You never told us your name," Fred said kindly, "every soldier needs a name."

He hadn't been forthcoming to Isobel at the cottage, so she didn't expect much this time he was asked. However, the boy took one glance at Fred, and opened his mouth. "I'm... Callen," he whispered, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to say it. "Callen James."

Perhaps the safety of the woods had helped him feel more comfortable.

"Hi Callen James," Fred grinned. He held out his hand for the little one to see, "I'm Fred Weasley."

Callen shook Fred's hand by his thumb, which was odd, but childlike. "And she's...Isobel?"

"That's right," said Isobel. She kneeled down next to Fred, joining him in making feel Callen feel as comfortable and unthreatened as possible. "I'm Isobel Monroe, but can call me Iz."

"I like Isobel," Callen smiled, "it's pretty."

Isobel smiled back at him. She hadn't often been told that. "So, now that we're friends. Are you able to tell us why those wizards were chasing you?"

Callen nodded his little head. "They captured me, tried to put me in a cage, but I was able to run away."

Isobel sighed, her eyes turning down as she felt an affinity with him. "Maybe he's a muggleborn," she whispered to Fred, covering her voice as she pretended to rub her neck.

Fred's jaw tightened at the thought of this little child being out in a cage simply because of his blood type. "How long ago did they take you?" he asked him.

Callen blinked. "A week. I'm not sure. They held me in a dark room before they took me here."

Isobel touched his arm gently, her voice gentler now. "Why did they take you? Did they take your parents too?"

Callen hesitated. Then: "They took both of us. Me and my dad. Kept asking him questions. About where he hid it. They wanted to know where it was."

Fred's stomach turned as his eyes narrowed. They were getting somewhere with him. "Where what was?"

The boy's eyes filled, but he didn't cry. "The blade. Dads blade. Not a sword, more like a knife. Small. Black metal. He said it was cursed. He made me promise never to touch it. He wouldn't tell them anything."

Isobel shot Fred a look. "Cursed blade. Potential weapon of war. Sound familiar?"

Fred nodded grimly. "Yeah. Angelina was right. They're looking for weapons."

The boy lowered his head again, small fingers tightening in Fred's jumper. "They killed him," he sniffed, "my dad, I heard it happen. Through the boards. They killed him because he wouldn't tell them anything. They made me listen."

Fred's throat closed. For a moment, he didn't know what to say—what could he say?

Isobel reached over, resting a hand gently on Callen's back. "You did everything right. You survived. That's more than most have done. You've been a brave boy Callen."

Callen flinched slightly at her touch, then let himself lean into it. Not okay—but no longer alone. She hugged him when he allowed her too, and the little boys hand clung to her for absolute safety. He was scared, but they had both shown him that he didn't have to be anymore.

Fred stood up slowly, lifting up the boy so that he could piggyback on his back. They had asked him enough questions for now, and they had gotten the answers required to understand what was at play here. "We need to move," he said to Isobel, "In case they start to track us. What do you say, do you think we go after this thing?"

Isobel weighed up their options in their head. "I mean it sounds dangerous, the Death Eaters were willing to kill for it," she said, "but on the other hand, that makes me want to go for it. In our hands, it could do some good."

Fred nodded, liking her sudden urge for recklessness. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Let's try to get out of here without being seen and go and find the others. Then we can make a plan."

Once Isobel agreed, the three of them started walking in silence towards a hopeful exit, branches creaking above them, the wind cold against their skin.

After a while, Callen spoke, quiet and fragile: "He called it the Emberfang."

Isobel's curiosity piqued as Fred gave her a sidelong glance. That word rang a bell of familiarity to her. "What, the blade?" She asked.

Callen nodded as Fred's fingers flexed around his wand. "Yeah," he said grimly. "It was cool because it could set things on fire."

A sudden rustling to their left made them all freeze.

Fred put his finger to his mouth to signify Callen to be quiet, and he stepped forward, wand raised.

But it was only a fox, darting out from the underbrush, startled by their presence. It paused just long enough to stare at them with gleaming yellow eyes before it vanished again into the dark.

Fred let out a slow breath.

"Just a fox, they're fine," Isobel said to him, realising he might not have seen one before. They kept walking, eyes alert, and when Callen seemed not to be listening due to to tiredness, she whispered to Fred once more. "A blade that sets fire to everything it touches? That could burn a man alive as soon as kill him. If the Death Eaters get their hands on this—we have bigger problems than Percy and his betrayal."

"We'll find it," Fred said determinedly. "We get to safety first. Then we raise hell."

Callen's hand slipped down Fred's neck as they walked deeper into the woods, his body drooping on Fred back. He must have been heavy, but Fred didn't let go.

The moon followed them—full and cold—slipping in and out of the clouds like it was watching, but unwilling to interfere. The forest was thick with old trees, the kind that seemed to remember magic, and that made it easier to breathe.

Fred kept Callen close, his hand tight around the boy's wrist, not enough to hurt—just enough to say I won't let go.

Isobel led the way with her wand drawn, illuminating the path in silvery pulses. She didn't speak for a long time. None of them did. They were running on instinct—on need. Stay hidden. Keep moving. Survive.

Eventually, they found an overgrown hollow, sunken into the hillside like a forgotten cave. The earth was soft, damp with moss, but dry inside. Shelter enough.

Fred coaxed Callen gently toward a narrow curve in the stone passageway, where the rock wall dipped just enough to form a natural alcove. The boy moved stiffly, his limbs sluggish with exhaustion, his wide, shell-shocked eyes darting over every shadow. He didn't speak. He knew not to argue.

"Just here, mate," Fred said softly, guiding him down with a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be safe for a bit."

Callen sat down without protest, curling in on himself near the back of the alcove, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He looked impossibly small pressed against the rock, like he might vanish entirely if he tried hard enough. Fred lingered for a second, but said nothing more as he conjured up a fire out of thin air to keep them warm.

Meanwhile, Isobel stood at the mouth of the crevice, her wand raised in both hands as she worked. Her movements were precise but quick, her brow furrowed in concentration as she layered protection charm after charm—muffling, concealment, distortion. A shimmer of silver light briefly laced the entry before dissolving, the air thickening just slightly as the magic settled in.

She tested the barrier with a murmured incantation, then nodded to herself. Only then did she turn, her shoulders lowering slightly as she walked back over to where Fred was crouched.

"I think we've bought a little time," she said quietly, kneeling beside him. "But it's not going to hold if more come. Not if they're using tracers on him."

Fred's body sagged. She couldn't read his mind, but she could guess he was under the same stress as she was. "Half an hour," he said. "That's all. Then we move again."

Isobel followed his gaze to Callen. The boy hadn't moved, hadn't made a sound. He was just a tight ball of limbs and silence, like the fear had sunk too deep to be coaxed out by words alone.

Isobel hesitated, then reached into her jeans pocket. She pulled out the slightly crumpled bag of Fizzing Whizbees, the paper pouch soft and warm from where she had sat on it. "I slept on them, so they're a bit squished," she said gently as she crouched in front of Callen, her voice low and careful. "But they're still good."

Callen blinked up at her, eyes red-rimmed but alert. For a moment, it seemed he wouldn't respond. Then, slowly, he reached out and plucked one from the bag. He held it like he didn't quite trust it—but after a second, he popped it into his mouth. The faint crackle of fizzing sugar met the air.

Fred had been watching the exchange quietly, something unreadable in his eyes. He glanced at the bag, then at Isobel.

"I'm surprised you hadn't finished those yet," he said. "Them being your favourite."

Her eyes stayed on Callen, her voice barely above a whisper. "Soon after you gave them to me... I lost my appetite."

Fred didn't respond to that, not with words. But the weight of silence that fell between them said enough.

She sat down slowly beside him, stretching out her legs and resting her elbows on her knees against the hard wall. The quiet around them pulsed with magic and fatigue, the walls of stone pressing in like they, too, were holding their breath.

After a moment, Fred spoke again, his voice low. "The Emberfang," he said, his knees knocking into hers to get her attention. "Have you heard of it before? When Callen mentioned it... you looked like you recognised the name."

Isobel drew in a slow breath, her expression thoughtful. "Once. A long time ago. Blaise mentioned it during one of our study sessions."

Fred glanced over at her, eyebrows lifting. "Blaise Zabini?"

She nodded. "His mum is a collector of fine things. Obsessed with rare magical artefacts—and rich enough that all kinds of strange men come calling, trying to impress her with tall tales. Blaise used to retell them to us. Most of the time, we thought he was just showing off."

"What did he say about the Emberfang?"

"That she met this man in a posh bar somewhere. An explorer, or something similar. He claimed to have found a relic buried in some desert—called it the Emberfang. Said it could cut like butter and leave behind burns that felt like lava. But it wasn't just a weapon—it was alive, in a way. Sentient. He said it chose its wielder, and no one else could command it."

Fred's brow furrowed. "And Blaise's mum didn't take him seriously?"

"She thought he was trying to get her back to his flat," Isobel said with a dry smile. "Thought the whole story was just a pick-up line. But Blaise remembered the name. Thought it sounded cool."

Fred's eyes had drifted back to Callen again. The boy had finished his sweet, now chewing slowly on another, eyes half-lidded, getting sleepy. He didn't think he was listening.

"You think it was him?" Fred asked, his voice lower now. "Callen's dad—the explorer?"

Isobel nodded slowly. "Too much lines up. The same wild story, the timing. I think he found the emberfang and kept it in the family for their own protection, but didn't realise that the woman he was trying to impress was part of the wizarding world's most powerful families. He didn't know they would come looking for it once she opened her big mouth."

Fred ran a hand down his face, then scrubbed it through his hair. It was kind of sticking up, a bit wild from the rush, and Isobel thought he should style it this way more often - more rugged. "So the blade is real. It's out there. And the Death Eaters want it."

"Not just the blade," Isobel said. "They'll want whoever it responds to."

Fred's gaze darkened. "You think it's Callen."

Isobel joined Fred in watching Callen lie curled beneath a knitted blanket, his small frame barely rising with each breath. The faint glow of a nearby fire threw soft shadows across his round cheeks, and a lock of blonde hair had fallen across his forehead. He looked impossibly young in sleep, as if war and magic and the darkness of the world hadn't touched him yet—though they had, all too much.

"He might be, if bloodline is at play here," she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. "Merlin, he's so small. How can someone so little be this important?"

Fred sighed. "I don't know, but he doesn't deserve to be caught in the middle of any of this... whatever this is."

Isobel took a moment to herself. She could feel herself pressed up against him in this tight space, their arms touching, their knees touching, their toes warm against the fire. Something told her that, even if a group of Death Eaters bombarded them right now, she would be alright. "All we know is that, if it is what Blaise was talking about, the blade chooses the owners," she continued, speaking slowly, like she was working it out aloud. "So it might not be him. Maybe it's like the Sorting Hat, y'know? Maybe it decides who's worthy and who's not."

She paused, then added with a faint smile, "Kind of like Thor."

Fred blinked, glancing down at her. "Who's Thor?"

It took her a moment to remember—he wouldn't know. Of course he wouldn't. They'd spent so much time together, and they were so similar in spirit, it was easy to forget that Fred Weasley had grown up in a world without superheroes, Saturday morning cartoons, or Marvel Comics.

"You're such a pureblood," she teased, rolling her eyes at him, nudging his side with her elbow.

Fred scoffed in mock offence, bumping her back. "Hey! Don't say it like that. Makes me sound as bad as Draco. Or worse—Percy."

"Well, unfortunately, you are," she grinned. "Blood-wise anyway."

Fred gave a theatrical sigh, crossing his arms. "What a delightful category to be in. Really living the dream. Thanks."

She chuckled, then returned to watching Callen for a beat before saying, "So, Thor. He's the god of thunder. And sometimes war, depending on which myth you read. But in the comics—muggle comics—he has this hammer called Mjölnir. And no one can lift it unless the hammer itself deems them worthy."

Fred's smile slowly grew out of the corner of his mouth. "That actually sounds wicked."

"It is," she said. "It really is."

He tilted his head at her, almost so close that he could rest it on her shoulders. "Wait, what's... comics?"

Isobel's laugh broke the tension in her chest. "Are you serious? You've been around muggleborns for years and you've never heard of comics?"

Fred raised both hands defensively. "Oi! My go-to muggleborns are Dean Thomas and Hermione Granger. Dean only ever talks about football—which I still don't understand and have no interest in—and Hermione? Please. All I know is her parents are dentists and that they touch teeth for a living. Which is revolting, by the way."

"It's actually a very important job," Isobel giggled, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the noise. Callen was just falling asleep. "But okay, fine. From now on, I'll be your personal muggle genie. Ask me anything and I shall provide."

Fred shot her a mischievous look. "Oh, so like what, I rub you and knowledge comes out?"

"Really?" Isobel asked, laughing at the ridiculousness of the comment. She said it like she had never heard that kind of thing said, but in reality, she had heard Fred say this kind of thing to many girls at Hogwarts. Isobel always hated it, found it disgusting. But now, he was talking to her like it - and it was kind of cheesy - but her cheeks still blushed.

Freds eyes widened slightly as the implication caught up to him. "Right. Just... forget I said that."

She smiled down to the side, enjoying him being embarrassed for once. "Anyway," she went on, "comics are basically stories told through pictures—kind of like moving portraits but flat. They've got their own art styles, and usually they're about superheroes. People with powers. Abilities. But not wizards."

"Like us, though," Fred said, watching her closely now.

"In a way, yeah," she agreed. "Except we're not exactly saving muggle civilians, are we? We're trying to save other people with magic."

Fred's expression turned thoughtful, his eyes lingering on hers. "Do you have a favourite?"

Isobel shrugged, tucking her legs beneath her as she shivered. "I don't read them as much as anymore, but... probably Spider-Man. He's young. Like us. He keeps making mistakes, and things are always difficult for him. But he still does the right thing. Helps the little guy. Fights for his city. Plus it'd be cool to swing through buildings using spiderwebs."

Fred was quiet for a moment, and when she looked at him, he was still staring at her—not mocking, not joking, just seeing her.

"You'd like him," she added, her voice softer now. "He's got that stupid humour and no self-preservation instinct."

Fred smiled, and this time it didn't reach for humour. It was something gentler, something more real. "Sounds like I should start reading it," he said, glancing sideways at her with a faint, crooked smile. "This spider guy could give me some tips on how to survive out here."

Isobel returned his expression and out her head back against the wall, exhaling out the last of her stress. "You should come to my house. My dad's got a prized collection. Every single issue."

Fred turned more toward her, the light catching his freckled face, curiosity blooming in his expression. "I might have to take you up on that."

She laughed softly, but it was short-lived. "That's if we make it out of here alive."

Fred's smile faltered, the joking in his eyes dimming for a heartbeat. He leaned forward slightly, searching her face. "Don't talk like that, we will."

She didn't meet his gaze, eyes dropping to her hands folded in her lap. Her voice was low, raw at the edges. "It's hard to think that way, given the last twenty-four hours."

He was quiet for a beat, watching over her with something gentler now—almost protective. Then he said, with quiet conviction, "No. You just need something to live for, okay? Let's make a deal. When we get out of here alive—and we will get out of here alive—I'll come round to the Monroe house and you can show me that collection."

A dry chuckle escaped her, not without affection. "That's meant to be my reason to live? Merlin help me, I've got no chance."

"Hey, stop with the sass," he said, nudging her foot lightly with his. "It'll be fun, I promise. I'll meet your dad, charm him with my personality. Your mum will love me, obviously."

She scoffed, eyes rolling, but she was smiling now. "Oh, what, you'll flirt with her?"

"It'll be easy, I'm sure you get your looks from somewhere."

A beat of silence passed as she waited for him to take back what he said. He didn't. Her face warmed, but she kept her composure. "My looks?" she asked, lifting her head off the wall and turning to him.

He nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. You're not... bad looking, are you?"

She stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Wow, thanks. And this is the charm you're apparently going to win my dad over with?"

Fred chuckled, leaning back, smug and unbothered. "Yeah, and if that doesn't work, I'll flirt with him too if I have to. I don't discriminate."

Isobel laughed—really laughed—and it caught her off guard. It was the first real laugh she'd had in days. The kind that made her chest ache from the spontaneity. "Okay, deal. When this is over, you come over. Purely because I want to see the car crash it's so likely to become."

Fred leaned closer again, mock-serious as he grinned back at her laugh. "You don't think they'll like me?"

"You're a boy," she said dryly, "they won't like you the second I bring you through the door."

He continued grinning, undeterred. "Well, that sounds like a challenge to me. Besides, my intentions will be pure."

She raised an eyebrow again, suspicious. "And what intentions are those intentions exactly?"

He hesitated—but not out of nervousness. Out of the sheer joy of teasing her. Then, with a soft shrug, he murmured, "I haven't quite decided yet."

Isobel's breath caught, just slightly. Her pulse was ticking faster now, not from fear this time, but from that look he was giving her. That deliberate vagueness. The way he held her gaze just a little too long.

The war was still there, outside. The walls still creaked. But in that small, dim-lit room—Fred's warmth, his shameless humour, the weight of his attention—it felt like a life she might still get to reach.

Maybe.

If they made it out.

Chapter Text

The wind changed.

It wasn't loud—not a gust or a chill—but something older, quieter. A stillness, like the world had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale. Isobel felt it along her arms, crawling under her skin. The air in the hollow thickened. The warmth from the fire couldn't reach her anymore.

She didn't move at first. She didn't want to.

Fred was laughing, that low, unguarded kind that didn't come often anymore. It tugged at something behind her ribs, something fragile and persistent. His eyes had crinkled just enough, his mouth soft around the sound. She'd made him laugh, and for a few seconds, it had felt like they were somewhere else—somewhere that wasn't war or ash or hiding in dirt-streaked caves with a hunted boy between them.

She wanted to stay in it. To pretend.

But her body didn't let her.

Even as her mind clung to the moment, her muscles were already bracing. She turned slightly, listening past the flicker of the fire.

Fred stood first. He felt it too.

Of course he did.

She watched him draw his wand—not dramatic, not showy. Just a simple movement. Practiced. Quiet. The spell was broken now.

She rose slowly, fingers brushing her wand, though she didn't draw it yet.

"What is it?" she asked, voice low.

He didn't answer. Didn't need to.

Behind them, Callen shifted in his seat. Barely a sound, but she noticed. The boy didn't flinch or panic—just... stilled. Alert. The kind of stillness that came from knowing how to vanish. It was the sort of stillness no child should know how to wear so well.

Fred moved, quick and sure, casting a Disillusionment Charm over Callen with one flick. The magic rolled over the boy like water, shimmering, then gone. Isobel caught a flash of his eyes before the spell took him fully. Wide. Silent. Trying to communicate with her without sound.

She met Fred's eyes as he crouched again. "Who do you think-"

Fred put a finger to her lips. A tiny gesture that almost paralysed her from the neck down. He had never touched her in such an intimate way.

"Listen," he mouthed.

She nodded, drawing her wand out as he released his touch, letting it hum to life with a faint golden light. She kept it low, barely more than a whisper in the dark. Enough to see. Not enough to be seen.

She saw the worry in his eyes. Not fear—Fred didn't fear for himself. His recklessness during his lifetime had proved that. But for her? For the boy? Now that was different. He had assumed himself as the primary protector, but she wanted to tell him that he didn't have to do that. She would always be there to hold up her side of the fight.

She wanted to tell him she was fine. That could handle things herself - he had even told Charlie so back at Theo's festival. But she didn't, as much as she was independent, it was nice having someone to protect her.

Another sound—too soft for anyone but the two of them to catch. The faint brush of pine needles.

Then another. Closer.

Fred leaned forward, a streak of moonlight casting over his hair, making it seem blonde. She watched the tension settle in his shoulders. He was listening with his whole body now.

She tilted her head, letting the sound pass through her, gathering what it gave.

Fred mouthed, "One?"

She shook her head. "Two," she mouthed back. Then, after a second, her stomach knotted. "Maybe three."

Her voice was sharper this time.

"Not Death Eaters."

Fred's brow furrowed. "Then what?"

She narrowed her eyes into the dark. Death Eaters were soundless, powerful enough just carrying their wands. This was different; they could hear sounds like chains clanking or a rope hitting against a tree. "Worse."

They moved out of the cave together—no plan, no signal, just instinct. She split from him at the mouth of the hollow, veering right through the stones, wand low and steady. The forest welcomed her like an old friend—silent, cold, knowing.

Fred ghosted left. She tracked him out of the corner of her eye until the trees swallowed him.

Her heart beat once. She couldn't see him anymore.

Then Twice. She was alone; he wasn't there.

Then they came.

Three figures. Dark robes. Worn boots. One had a burn scar from temple to chin; another carried a wand like it was an axe. Not Death Eaters. These men didn't come with an ideology. They came for money

Snatchers.

Her lip curled.

She hated them more than the Death Eaters. At least the purists believed their madness. These ones didn't care who they hunted, as long as someone paid.

And someone, clearly, wanted Callen. Or her, the most wanted Muggleborn after Hermione Granger.

She hid as one crouched near the cave's edge, casting a charm over the dirt. Were they looking for a footprint? Her stomach clenched. The other two snatchers scanned the tree line, not speaking, not rushing. Professional.

She dropped lower, breath shallow. They hadn't seen her or Fred yet.

Fred would flank the one on the left. She knew it like she knew her own name. He'd wait for her signal. But not for too long. Because if there were more—if these three weren't alone—then waiting might get them all killed.

She counted her breath. Focused.

Her fingers brushed the cool bark beside her. She listened for Fred, not with her ears, but with that invisible thread that had stretched between them ever since they had made a truce, ever since he had stood up for her at Malfoy Manor.

He was out there. She could feel him.

And when she moved—when she gave the sign—he would be ready.

She squared her shoulders.

No more waiting.

Let them come, she thought—Battle Hogwarts's finest.

She moved first.

The spell surged from her wand before she fully realised she'd cast it—silent, precise, a lance of white-hot magic cutting through the trees. It struck the man kneeling by the opening to the cave like a hammer. He didn't even scream. His eyes widened in brief shock, and then he was falling, limbs locking, body crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut.

No hesitation.

Fred burst from the shadows a heartbeat later, fast and sure. She didn't need to look to know how he moved—there was a rhythm to the way they fought now. Familiar. Sharpened.

His wand slammed hard into the second man's throat as he cast the cruciatus curse. There was a sickening crunch of bones and limbs, the sound curling in her stomach as Isobel watched the man fall. The snatcher dropped with a grunt, unconscious before his body hit the pine-covered ground.

The third one tried to run. Foolish.

Isobel pivoted to stop him, wand already rising—but she didn't need to act.

A shape moved at the edge of her vision. Low. Subtle.

A branch whipped up out of nowhere, and the man's foot got caught in its way. The snatcher flailed—then crashed face-first into the roots with a wet thud.

Fred blinked, startled. "You tripped him?"

Isobel shook her head. "I didn't do anything, I thought that was you."

The air shimmered faintly in the space between them, and Callen appeared as the Disillusionment Charm melted off him like rain. "He wasn't watching where he ran," the boy said coolly. "Sorry I was scared, it kind of happens sometimes."

Isobel would've laughed if she weren't already walking to the man's fallen body. She remembered moments like that from her youth, when her magic manifested in strange and mysterious ways. From the snigger Fred was giving, he seemed to remember moments like that too.

Her wand pointed at the third man's throat before he could lift his head. Her voice came sharp, steady. "Why are you here?"

He spat blood into the dirt. "What's it to you bitch."

Fred crouched beside him, wand steady but low—dangerous in a quieter way. "If you talk to her like that again, you're no longer going to have any tongue to speak with," he threatened calmly, "now tell her - was it the Malfoys?"

The man's grin was broken and crimson. For all his humour, Fred was quite threatening to someone who didn't know his joker side. "All roads lead to Malfoy these days, don't they?"

Isobel's stomach turned. He said that like he knew who they were, like they knew the name meant something to them.

"Who are you after?" she pressed.

The man lifted his gaze to her. Cold. Bloody. Satisfied. "The boy," he rasped. "He knows where it's buried."

Her pulse stuttered.

Fred shifted as he shuddered, tension rolling off him like heat.

"You think we don't know where he is? He's traced," the man said, voice thick. "His daddy told him everything—and then tried to make him forget. But we got there first, stopped him in his tracks before he could complete the job."

Callen stepped forward then.

The boy didn't flinch.

Didn't hide.

He simply stood.

"He tried," Callen said softly. "Tried to make me forget. But they killed him before he could finish."

Isobel didn't look at Fred as she digested the horror of the snatcher's words. She didn't need to. She felt him move, sliding instinctively between the boy and the man like a barrier made of fury.

"He's just a child," Fred said.

The man grinned, bloody and defiant. "No. He's a key."

Isobel raised her wand and stunned him without a second thought, rendering him silent.

One flash of light. One silent flick. He slumped, finally still.

Everything seemed louder—the wind in the trees, the hush of their breathing. But under it all, something heavier had fallen. Not dangerous. Not yet. Just the truth.

Fred turned to Callen. His voice was low. Careful to say the right words. "Is it true?" he asked, "Do you know where this thing is?"

Callen nodded. "It's near my house."

Isobel watched Fred walk over to him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "Then we protect you," he said. "We find this thing together, make sure they don't win."

Isobel scanned the shadows, wand still drawn. He didn't need to ask her permission; she was ready to find this thing as quickly as he was. "Then we go," she said, "now. If those three found us, there'll be more coming."

Callen straightened. Not taller. Not stronger. Just steadier. As much as his little body could be.

Fred stepped over to her, keeping one eye on Callen as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "We Apparate. Wherever he says it is. It's our best shot. Doesn't matter if he's traced, we can get their quicker than any snatcher can."

Isobel nodded. "Alright," she replied, "he trusts you. Get the address—" Her eyes flicked to Callen also. "And let's pray it's not a trap."

Fred asked Callen where it was, and the boy answered honestly.

"Coedwig Hollow. Outside Tintern. A cabin in the forest. You can't see it until you're close—the emberfang is buried in a cave there."

Fred looked at Isobel again. Not so serious this time, his eyes glinted with the sparkle he had when there was adventure up ahead. She hadn't seen that look in a while.

"Ready to visit some ancient ruins?" he asked her.

"As long as there's no big giant stone ball chasing us," she joked.

Fred and Callen stared at her, the joke flying over their heads, and she swallowed her pride with a big gulp. "Never mind, let's go."

She took Fred's hand, Callens's too, and Fred squeezed hers once before they apparated. In a breath, the world as they knew it was about to get much bigger.

***

Coedwig Hollow:

Apparition tore the world open around her, then snapped it shut again.

They landed in silence.

Not peace. Not safety. No, this wasn't anything like that, but... something close.

The air here was different. Cool and clean. It slid over her skin like water. Pine needles underfoot, old-growth trees standing sentinel above. Mist threaded between branches like memory. And somewhere in the distance, a stream.

But what caught her first was the smell.

Smoke.

Not fire. Not ruin. Not a threat.

Something small. Controlled. Pinewood and faint juniper bark. A whisper of warmth in a place that had known cold.

Fred's hand shot out, halting them.

Callen leaned in. "Someone's there."

Fred nodded down to him. "And they know how to hide. The fire's careful."

Isobel followed him forward, silent in the hush, breath tight. The snatchers couldn't have found them already, could they? Or had Death Eaters found the burial site and had camped out there first?

The trees parted—just barely—and she saw it.

A tent. Tucked into the hollow of the forest. Blurred by the many enchantments that had been put up around it, making it almost invisible to the naked eye. A campfire was set in the middle of the perimeter, inside a ring of cobblestones. It glowed golden and soft as hazy figures moved around it.

Isobel counted them.

Three.

One boy crouched by the fire, red hair glinting like the flame below him. A brown haired girl sat cross-legged on the forest floor, stirring a battered kettle with the tip of her wand. The other boy, the third of three figures, leaned back against a log, his glasses catching the flicker of light.

Isobel inhaled sharply, unconsciously grabbing Fred's arm as she recognised them.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

Callen tilted his head as he tried to work out what she and Fred were staring at. "Who are they?"

Fred didn't move. He was transfixed. A smile grew on his face so pure that it could only have been brought on by the reunion of long-lost family. "Friends," he said. "The kind you never stop fighting for."

Isobel watched the scene—the smallest domestic moment in the middle of war. Hermione passed a cup to Harry, and then Ron said something that made her laugh under her breath. It was so simple, but it warmed her heart.

It didn't seem possible. That they could've been through what they would've been through and still laugh. Still sit by a fire. Still be.

It reminded her a little bit of their set-up, just her Fred and George. Except that they had gotten themselves into this mess, they weren't nearly as important as the chosen one. She was glad they were still alive.

Fred stepped back, away from his brother.

Isobel turned to him. "Are we not going to them?" she asked.

Fred shook his head. "If they knew what we were carrying, they'd try to help. And they'd get killed for it as soon as we came across another Death Eater."

Isobel looked back at the fire. It looked so inviting, so cosy. "They look tired."

"They are," said Fred, "they don't need us adding to their load."

She felt something crack quietly in her chest. She wanted to run to them, she wanted to speak to them, she wanted to tell them about Luna and Charlie and Remus and Tonks. They'd want to know, they'd want to help. And they needed numbers.

She wanted to know how they had survived. What they had been up to. She had no clue how she had suddenly grown admiration for the three of them, but perhaps it had something to do with walking in their shoes the last couple of months.

"They'd help us anyway," she said. "Luna and Charlie are their friends too, and you know they care for Remus and Tonks. They ought to know Fred, and maybe we can help them too."

"The way we can help them is to leave and not bring any more bloody attention to them with this kid."

Silence hung as Fred turned away, rubbing his jaw as he fought so hard not to care that his missing brother was only a few meters away.

"You don't want to see Ron?" she asked. She knew family meant everything to him, so she was confused as to why he wasn't taking this chance.

Fred didn't answer right away. He just looked at them again—his brother, his brother's best friends, who'd he'd adopted as his own siblings. Worn thin. But alive. Still trying.

Then he grazed a hand against his chest. Not out of pain. Just to feel it beat.

"He's alive," he murmured. "That's enough for me."

He then turned back, taking one last look at Ron, Harry and Hermione - alive and happy.

Isobel hesitated a second longer, watching the flicker of the firelight on their faces. She saw how close it was. How easy it would be to step forward.

But she didn't.

She followed Fred.

Not because she didn't care, but because she did. Fred was right, they would just be another burden to them, and as long as they had Callen and their names on the most wanted list - another danger too.

Callen followed behind them as Isobel and Fred walked away, silent and small.

Behind them, the three by the fire would never know how close help had come. And how, for their sake, it had walked away against their selfish instinct.

The trees had changed again as they continued walking. They stood older here. Hungrier. Their branches tangled overhead like knotted fingers, and the light that filtered through them wasn't really light—just a memory of it. The air clung to Isobel's throat, thick with iron and moss and something else—something ancient that settled behind her teeth like the taste of old magic and unfinished stories.

She tightened her grip on Callen's hand as they pushed forward. Every step sank deeper into the damp loam, the earth softer than it had any right to be. Whatever path had once existed was long gone. Swallowed. Forgotten.

Fred's voice broke through the hush. "How much longer, Callen?"

The boy rode on his shoulders, but leaned toward Isobel as if she were a tether, as if the feel of her hand were the only thing anchoring him to the present.

"We're near it," Callen whispered. "Just over that hill."

Fred glanced back at Isobel before looking up. "Didn't you say it was near your house?"

"It is," Callen replied, with the kind of weary patience only children have. "But it's not at my house. That'd be dumb. Dad wouldn't do that."

Isobel snorted softly as his frank choice of words. "Yeah, Fred. That would be dumb."

He looked at her, and she smiled without thinking—an involuntary curve of her mouth. And that was a mistake.

That smile broke something open. She saw it flicker in his eyes. Felt it tug at something just under her skin.

God, they'd wasted years. Years throwing hexes and insults like armour. Years convincing themselves that the other was the worst person in the world. And now, here they were—her smile like a stone in a still pond, sending ripples that she hadn't the courage to name.

She just didn't know if it rippled back.

They reached the crest of the hill and below them stood a grove of ash trees like blackened bones, scorched from some fire the forest itself hadn't forgotten. And at the centre: a small mound, overgrown with ivy and crowned by a jagged altar stone. It wasn't just old. It was ancient. And it remembered.

Isobel's breath caught in her throat. It didn't look dangerous. But every instinct whispered: this was not made for someone like you.

She didn't even like walking near the Forbidden Forest.

Fred stepped off first. He was always the one to step into danger before he thought it through. Always the one who made recklessness look like bravery.

The altar was carved with runes—twisted, hostile. Not meant to be read. Meant to be felt, like teeth in the dark.

Callen stepped forward. "It's under there."

Fred's voice was quieter now. "You sure?"

Callen nodded. But his eyes looked distant, like the place already recognised him. Or it didn't, and that was worse.

Isobel knelt at the base of the stone. Her wand whispered lightly as she swept moss and dirt aside. The crack beneath it was blackened and old, as if something had once burned its way out.

She reached for Callen's hand, testing something out of instinct, and pressed it gently to the stone.

The air hummed.

The altar moved.

Roots slithered back like retreating fingers. The slab lifted—not by force, but by permission. And beneath it: stairs, spiralling into shadow.

"It knew Callen's fingerprints," she whispered, "your dad must have given them to it as a passcode somehow."

Fred raised his wand, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "Well done, I guess the only way is down. Say a prayer for me Monroe."

Isobel arched a brow as she looked back up at him. "Do you really want to be the one to go in first? You don't even know what's down there."

He grinned—and it was stupid and boyish and infuriatingly charming. "I punched Percy yesterday. I'm not making great decisions, but I am having extreme luck. I like my chances."

And so, he went, with her following close behind. Closer than she needed to. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, to catch the faint scent of cedar and wind that clung to him like memory. Callen's small hand stayed tucked in hers, but it was Fred he watched.

The deeper they went, the colder it grew. The staircase was not carved. It had been shaped. She could feel it in the stone, in her bones. Magic had made this place, and it had been made out of necessity, specifically to keep something hidden.

At the bottom lay a chamber, a tall one with a stone basin. It was deep enough, Isobel thought, for protective enchantments to be placed above it to stop the wrong person getting his hands on it.

In its centre sat the Emberfang. Or at least what they thought was the Emberfang.

Wrapped in silver cloth, resting on an obsidian pedestal. But even with it being hidden, its magic pressed into the air like breath. It drew their attention like a waterfall in a desert.

The Emberfang.

It didn't just exist. It was here, waiting for them. The glow beneath the cloth was ember-red. Flickering. Hungry.

Fire.

Fred stepped closer as they all huddled around it, and his shoulder brushed hers. The contact sent a jolt through her, and she focused on the task at hand, using the electricity she felt.

"Do you feel it too?" he asked, voice low.

Isobel went blank. Did he mean the electricity between them? Or something else she hadn't noticed. "Feel what?" she replied.

Fred turned toward Callen, who stood just outside the light. The boy looked almost lost in thought. Not frightened—just apart, like someone remembering a lullaby from another life.

"Is it calling you or something?" he asked the boy.

Callen's voice came quietly. Isobel could see he was a bit sad, disappointed even, and his young years hadn't yet learnt to hide it. "Not me," he said, "but for someone. Dad said... it needs a pureblood."

He hesitated as Isobel's eyes flickered between him and Fred, already understanding what that meant.

"I'm not one," he admitted, "my mum was a Muggle."

The quiet that followed felt like something alive. Isobel's heart ached, the ancient cruelty of the blade still drawing lines in blood, even though it had not been lifted. Fred stepped forward toward the pedestal, understanding too what that meant, but she reached out and grabbed his arm before he could touch the cloth.

"Wait."

He froze, looking at her, and didn't pull away.

"You don't have to touch it," she said. "Just because you're the only pureblood here, it does not mean you have to risk touching something this cursed. You don't have to be this brave Fred."

Fred gave a soft laugh, almost staring down at her with pity, as if she were a little kid who was being naive. "Bravery's just stupidity in nice shoes," he said, "and I wear them both well."

She stepped closer to him, close enough to feel the tremble in his arm.

"You hide it well," she whispered. "The fear."

He looked at her—really looked—and something raw flickered in his expression. Something new.

"I don't have to hide it," he said. "Monroe, look at where we are. We hated each other, and now you're stopping me from touching something that could kill me. That's growth. How could I ever be scared of anything when these last few months have been the most frightening thing I ever could have dreamt of?"

Her fingers curled around his sleeve as she nudged him for being so lighthearted. She didn't realise how tightly she was holding him until she felt the heat of his skin through the fabric.

"I mean it," she said, softer now as a reaction to his tease. "You don't have to do this alone. You don't have to always be the reckless one."

He smiled. But it was fragile. "Then give me one reason why I shouldn't touch it."

She swallowed.

Tell him the truth , she thought. Tell him that if he was hurt, she'd blame herself, and that he would've betrayed her by making her see him in pain. She'd only just started caring for him...if anything was to happen and she never got a chance to tell him...it would be like history repeating itself.

She went to say it, but looking into Fred's eyes, she just couldn't bring herself to say it for fear of rejection. Getting rejected was bad enough, but by a Weasley? In an underground cave next to a dangerous weapon? It certainly wasn't the right time.

So instead she said: "Go on then, friend. Take it."

The word friend broke the moment like glass between them. She had purposely done it that way to see his reaction.

He flinched. Subtle. But she saw it. Felt it in the space that opened up again between them.

She instantly regretted it.

Before she could take it back, Callen's voice echoed gently through the chamber.

"It's not evil. Just lonely," he said. "You don't have to be scared, my dad used it for years. For good."

The air shifted as both Fred and Isobel remembered why they were here. Fred turned back to the pedestal, and slowly, steadily, he pulled back the cloth.

The blade shimmered out from under it, dark, ember-glass red. And alive.

Fred reached out, and Isobel held her breath as she waited for something horrible to happen.

When his fingers closed around the hilt, the dagger pulsed. Magic surged like wildfire through him, into him. His breath hitched. Not in pain, but recognition. Like something long-lost had come home.

Isobel stepped forward, heart pounding. The runes on the blade moved, changing as she watched.

"They're adapting," she murmured. "To you."

Fred's eyes lit up with the burning orange lava that fueled the dagger. He lifted it further, weighing it out, and if by instinct, he whispered: "Emberfang."

The dagger answered him as the chamber groaned around them. Dust started falling from the ceiling, and the floor began to quake, the pedestal cracking into two as it had fulfilled its job of protection.

Callen's voice rang out, urgent. "Something's happening!"

Isobel grabbed Fred's shoulder and gripped it tightly. "We have to go. Now. The bloody place is going to collapse."

Fred didn't move. His gaze locked on the dagger, like it was speaking in a language only he could hear. Isobel studied him, scared that he had been out under a spell.

"If I take it... this place might fall," he said, "maybe it doesn't want to leave."

Isobel leaned in, their faces inches apart as she tried to pull his eyes away from the danger. "We will find it a new home. That's what we have to do now. Together. Do not listen to what it's telling you."

After a few seconds, as if he was pulling his own eyeballs up himself with tremendous force, Fred looked at her. She smiled with an unspoken concern, and she guided him arm down so the knife was no longer pointing in her direction.

"We run," she told him, "and no matter what it does, we don't look back."

The dagger pulsed again.

Not cold. Not cruel.

Just... ready. And it was prepared to take Fred with it.

Chapter Text

Fred's POV:  Later that night.

Fred didn't quite remember the exact moment he fell in love with Isobel Monroe, but he knew all the ways that he had felt it. Even if he didn't realise it at the time.

He felt it now, sitting across from her in the low light of the canopy of trees they were camping out under, the Emberfang wrapped carefully between them. She was laughing at him—head tossed back, cheeks flushed, eyes bright—and he couldn't remember what he'd said that was funny. Just that she'd laughed, and it had turned his ribs to splinters.

Her smile wrapped around him with a pull stronger than any charm or hex he'd ever encountered—more intoxicating than any love potion, more lasting than any enchantment. Her laugh had undone him. He could feel it in all of his nerves, in the ache behind his smile. It felt like home.

It wasn't one moment. No, that would've been easier—to blame it on some brilliant thing she had said, or some perfect look she had given him one time. But it hadn't struck like lightning. It hadn't even happened recently. It had smouldered. Quietly. Slowly. Over a long time. Until he realised that whatever stupid thing he did, or whatever sarcastic comment he spluttered out—somewhere inside, he was doing it just to see if it would make her smile. Or roll her eyes. Or to just to see him at all.

It might've started on the Quidditch pitch.

She was the only Ravenclaw chaser who played like a bloody Slytherin—cutthroat, nimble, fast enough that you didn't see the steal coming until she'd already scored. She was brutal with a the broom too—once knocked Adrian Pucey clean off his in third year and apologized by smirking at him as she soared past.

He remembered the look on her face as he stared up from the stands, impressed at what the new girl on the Ravenclaw team had done. Wind in her hair, sweat on her brow, a scrape on her cheek from a nasty dive—she looked alive. That was probably when the feeling started to take root, he just hadn't realised it yet.

And Merlin, she was smart. Ravenclaw smart, sure—but even beyond that. She was the kind of clever that snuck up on you. That cut with precision. Teachers were scared of her questions. Not because she was rude, but because she asked the ones that people were too scared to ask.

Once, in his sixth year, her fourth, he had heard Professor Burbage try to dodge a topic in Muggle Studies as he walked past on his free period. Isobel had tilted her head, folded her hands, and asked so calmly, "Why are you afraid to tell the truth?"

Fred remembered the silence that followed. The kind that made people shift in their chairs. The gawk of Hermione Granger who hadn't even been brave enough to say that out loud. He'd felt something shift in him, like even though he knew her to be a pain in every ones arse, he had never seen a girl with so much balls.

That was the same day as Snape's potions class. The day he'd asked them to brew Amortentia for a surprise exam.

The moment that damn potion hit the air and the scent reached his nostrils...it was game over. He would never be able to forget it existed.

The lavender had been faint but unmistakable. The kind that lingered on fabric. Soft and comforting. Perhaps from someone who liked herbology.

The parchment—well that made sense. They were in a school. He'd seen every girl with a book in their hands at some point, even those who just carried them around like accessories.

But the popping candy? Now that confused him. He didn't know anybody who ate that...not any girls anyway. Angelina especially despised it, said it made her mouth feel funny.

He wandered around the Gryffindor tower that night, offering sweets with popping candy in them to all the girls in there. Every time a girl took one, he studied their reactions, seeing if they liked it or not. Some did, but none of them had any of the other smells around them. Maybe parchment, but no lavender. So he concluded that it must have been someone outside his house, which had its own problems considering he'd already arranged a date for the Yule Ball inside his own house, and a teammate nonetheless.

But still, he couldn't get the smell out of his head, so the next few weeks that followed were full of confusion and denial.

He wrote it all down his diary:

- Maybe he had smelled it wrong.

- Maybe those three things aren't what he smelled.

- Perhaps he had brewed it incorrectly.

He tried it again in potions class. Over and over again. He even went so far as to steal supplies from Snape's closet to brew more in the dorms. Everytime - it came out exactly the same.

He was frazzled.

How could it be these three things that attracted him when he didn't know a single girl who matched the description?

He had tried in his other classes, where there were Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and - heaven forbid - Slytherin girls about. He ran the same tests, offering sweets and smelling for scented flowers...but again, he was out of luck.

That was—until the Yule Ball, when he saw her standing with Lee Jordan outside the Hospital Wing.

He smelled it. All three of them. The lavender, the parchment, and the popping candy. And at that moment—he second guessed everything he ever knew.

Because how could he be attracted to her?

Sure, he'd glimpsed something good in her once—something bright beneath the surface—but that version of Isobel Monroe felt like a distant memory now. These days, she was sharp-tongued and ice-cool, always calling him an idiot with that maddeningly calm voice, always five steps ahead, like she was playing a game he didn't even know the rules to. She was everything he wasn't. Where he drifted through life carefree, she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. He chased fun like it was oxygen; she treated it like it was some kind of disease. And for reasons he still couldn't figure out, she seemed to hate him—truly, viscerally—ever since last year. Which, all things considered, wasn't exactly the best starting point for a passionate, slow-burn romance.

After that night—when she had upended his carefully laid plans and, in retaliation or accident, har ruined her Yule Ball dress—it felt inevitable, written in stone, that the two of them were destined to be nothing more than adversaries. Not friends. Certainly not anything more. He'd almost managed to convince himself of that anyway.

Almost.

But as the year wore on, and with the Triwizard Tournament casting its long, unpredictable shadow over everything, she kept finding her way back into his thoughts. Uninvited. Unshakable. She haunted the edges of his mind like a melody he couldn't place but couldn't forget either. Every time they passed in the corridors, her presence hit him like a spell—not with her voice or gaze, but with that damn scent. Subtle, but maddeningly distinct.

Amortentia had betrayed him. He hadn't wanted to know. He hadn't wanted to feel what it meant, but he could still recall the notes that had risen from the cauldron like smoke: old parchment, sweet popping candy... and lavender.

The parchment, sure—that made perfect sense. She practically lived in the library, often buried so deep in books that the rest of the world, including people, seemed an afterthought. The candy too—now that he thought about it, she'd asked for a bag just the year before, when they'd begged her to keep an eye out for them while they snuck off to Hogsmeade. And lately, she always seemed to have some on her—tucked into a robe pocket, passed discreetly under the table, the faint sound of the wrapper crinkling when she thought no one was listening.

But the lavender—that was harder to explain. That's what he clung to in his denial. That was his loophole, his excuse to believe it didn't mean what he feared it did.

She wasn't in Hufflepuff, so the calming scent of their Botanical Common Room was out. She wasn't the sort to spend hours wandering through greenhouses or lying in the grass just to watch clouds either. No, she was pragmatic, meticulous, a creature of ink and routine. If she wasn't in class, she was in the library. And ever since she'd quit Quidditch, there was even less reason for her to be outside at all. So where—how—would she have picked up the scent of lavender?

He told himself it didn't matter. That it was coincidence. That he hadn't been close enough to be sure anyway. But the truth clung to him like the scent itself—soft, persistent, impossible to shake.

And Merlin help him, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

And then came the Inquisitorial Squad.

That should've been it, right? The death shot. The clean break.

When she pinned that silver badge to her robes and walked the halls beside Umbridge's little band of nightmares, Fred shouldn't have smelt her in the amortentia anymore.

But he did. Everytime he brewed it to double check. He just had to keep it hidden and agreed with George that she was just a lost cause. Just another Ministry brat following orders.

But she wasn't.

Fred noticed.

She always went easy on the younger students. Pretended not to see late curfew returns and always looked the other way over little offences. Once, she told a fourth year Hufflepuff to run and made it look she had simply not noticed him standing there. She handed out punishments with her voice flat and her eyes...forgiving.

But not to him. Oh, no. Fred got the full weight of it. Every threat, every detention, every smug remark.

She hated him, for whatever reason, and at the time, he thought he hater her too.

But somewhere in the middle of the scars digging into his hand from the quill she had given him to write with, and him washing the dried blood off his hands later in the common room, he realized—he didn't hate her. Not at all.

Isobel Monroe, despite being the enemy, had been the only girl in the school who had managed to captured his attention. The only downside was...she was the only one that didn't want it.

He knew he couldn't let anyone see that. Especially her, she would laugh at him and give him scars ten centimetres deep just for the fun of it. His friends would all think him madder than Moody, especially George - who had already started to sense something was up.

And so, he... he played along.

Because it was easier to pretend he hated her, than to admit that he was falling for a girl that could not love him back.

It was easier to throw sarcastic jabs and call her "Busy-Izzy Monroe" with spite than to admit that every time she smirked at him across a hallway, his stomach tied itself into new knots.

Easier to match her wit-for-wit than risk what would happen if he ever told her the truth. That he noticed when she never quite smiled the same after Cedric's death. That he knew her wand hand twitched when she was scared, even when her face gave nothing away. That he listened—really listened—when he heard her speak, even from afar, because her mind was the only thing sharper than her tongue.

What made it all easier to suppress — the feelings, the hope, the regret — were her choices.

Isobel had always been sharp. Brilliant, even. A girl who questioned everything, who had this fire in her that made you think she'd never let herself be owned or defined by anyone but herself. She was the kind of person who could dismantle an argument with a single sentence, who moved through Hogwarts like she was always one step ahead of the rest of them. And Fred had admired that about her. Albeit from a distance. It terrified him sometimes — how clever she was — but he'd loved it too.

That's why, after Cedric's death, watching her unravel in the worst ways imaginable had hurt more than he could ever admit out loud.

She made choices. Bad ones. Heartbreak does that to people. It makes them reckless, makes them forget who they are. But even then, nothing could've prepared him for Draco Malfoy. Of all people.

Draco, the biggest arsehole Hogwarts had ever produced - and that was saying something. Spoiled. Cruel. Surrounded by a smug little circle of blood-purist cowards who sneered at anyone who didn't fit their precious pedigree. He stood for everything Fred loathed. The way he spoke about muggleborns, the way he mocked the Weasleys' poverty, his smugness, his entitlement — it made Fred's blood boil. And the fact that Isobel — his Isobel, the most independent girl in the bloody school — had fallen for him?

That was unbearable.

Somehow, that stick-nosed ferret had wormed his way past all her defenses. Convinced her to walk beside him, to love him. Fred didn't know how it had happened. She wasn't his type — not a vapid little thing desperate for power or status. She was sharp, grounded, defiant. And yet... Malfoy had gotten to her. Turned her into someone who stood next to him at parties, smiled at his friends, maybe even believed the lies he fed her.

Fred hated it. Hated him. Hated her for choosing him.

Out of everyone at Hogwarts...why him?

There were nights when Fred felt the anger so thick in his throat that he had no one to spill it to, so he turned to the only thing that wouldn't talk back: his diary. He filled pages with scrawlings he'd never show anyone, full of bitter questions and half-written confessions he didn't have the courage to say aloud.

The only upside to that twisted relationship was the gifts Malfoy must've showered her with — perfume, mainly. Isobel had started wearing this overpowering, expensive scent that clung to her skin like a veil, one that masked her natural fragrance completely. When she wore it, Fred couldn't smell the lavender, or the parchment from the endless books she read, or the faint trace of popping candy she always seemed to carry in her coat pocket.

And for that, he was grateful.

Because when she wore that perfume, it meant he could survive being in the same room as her without falling apart. The scent was foreign, artificial — nothing like her. And that made it easier to pretend she wasn't the same girl he'd memorised like a favorite passage from a book he could never put down.

It made the punishments easier. It made pretending to hate her easier. It made their one to one detentions easier when he thought of nothing but pinning her up against the wall.

By the time he left Hogwarts, he had managed to keep his mouth shut. He had swallowed every feeling, every flicker of desire, and buried it deep. But it was too late. Her face had already carved itself into his memory.

Those eyes — green like summer leaves drenched in rain, the kind of green you didn't forget. That long, unruly brown hair that always managed to find its way across his shoulder when she leaned over to check he was writing his lines correctly. Her lips, constantly sharpened into something cruel when aimed at him, but painted such a striking red he couldn't help but watch them move — even if they were only ever spitting venom in his direction.

She haunted him. Not always. But enough.

Sometimes she'd appear in the curve of a stranger's smile while he was working the till. Sometimes in the scent of melted sugar at Honeydukes, when a fresh tray of Fizzing Whizbees hit the display and stirred something old in his chest. She'd flash into his mind, vivid and whole — and just as quickly vanish, like smoke.

By the time Tonks and Remus's wedding rolled around, he hadn't thought of Isobel in weeks. Life had moved on. The shop was thriving, he and George were making people laugh again — even if the war loomed darker every day. George was out charming half the women in Diagon Alley, and Fred, for once, wasn't chasing behind.

Angelina hadn't worked out. Too much past. Too many what-ifs.

So Fred had turned inward. Focused on himself. The shop. His family. The Order.

It was going well, all things considered.

But no matter how far he got, no matter how long it had been, part of him still knew: if she walked into the shop tomorrow, with those green eyes and that hair and that perfume he hated, he'd still feel everything all over again.

Until George — of course it was George — made some half-baked, wildly inappropriate comment at the wedding service that sent Fred chasing him through a sea of flower arrangements and enchanted lanterns, the way they had as boys. It was stupid. It always was. Something about Tonks's cousin, or maybe Remus's tie — Fred couldn't even remember now. What he did remember was rounding a corner, eyes narrowed, lips curled into a grin as he shouted after George—

And slamming straight into someone.

Hard.

It wasn't just the physical jolt that made his breath catch — it was who it was.

She spun around with startled grace, her brow furrowed and lips parted in surprise — and then she looked at him.

Isobel Monroe.

His entire body froze. His heart missed a beat, then crashed into overdrive, thundering so loudly in his chest he was sure she could hear it. She was right there. Standing less than a foot away. Not in school robes or Malfoy's shadow or behind some self-righteous glare — but here, now, a year older, softer in the edges but just as radiant, more even.

And Merlin, she looked beautiful.

Not pretty. Not "that girl you once had a thing for" beautiful.

She was devastating.

Her dress clung to her in all the right places, simple but elegant, her hair longer now, looser, framing her face like it had been made to. Her eyes — those impossible green eyes — caught the light and pulled him straight into every memory he thought he'd locked away for good. And her lips — no red lipstick this time. Just her. Natural, real, here.

He wanted to say her name. He opened his mouth to do it. But nothing came out. Not a single syllable.

All the cleverness, the charm, the jokes he kept holstered like weapons for social survival — they vanished. Poof. Like some cruel magic trick.

And so, in the split-second panic that gripped his chest and hollowed out his lungs, he reverted. He did what he always did when he didn't know how to be honest: he fell back into the mask.

He smirked. Rolled his shoulders back. Let the old Fred come forward like a shield.

"Yeah sorry Luna...and Luna's friend," he told her, pretending not to remember her, and the stare she returned stung of familiarity.

She raised an eyebrow. Not smiling, not scowling — just scathingly disappointed, like he was the last person she had wanted to see on earth. In that moment he knew she still held hate for him, and any chance of a clean slate had been ruined before he had realised there could've been one.

He felt it. The shift.

It wasn't just hate in her eyes anymore.

It was something murkier. Older. Deeper.

So he kept talking. Kept joking. Kept hiding.

But inside, everything was rising — the longing, the regret, the ache he'd buried under a year of distraction and bravado. Just the sound of her laugh — short, reluctant, and entirely unwilling from across the dancefloor — cracked something inside him. And as George wandered back with a drink in each hand and a shit-eating grin that said "what did I miss?", Fred knew.

He was in trouble.

Because the second he saw her again — really saw her — every carefully constructed wall he'd built came crashing down.

And Isobel Monroe had always been the kind of girl who could walk right through the wreckage like she owned it.

He became worse than before — colder, sharper, crueler. He carved out a version of himself so twisted it almost frightened him, all to compensate for the storm raging beneath his ribs.

Because seeing her again, standing there older, wiser, fiercer than she had ever been — it undid him. She was no longer the girl he'd silently crushed on from the corner of the Great Hall or across the corridor. She was a woman now. And her presence ignited something in him that was so much more than nostalgia. It was hunger. It was longing sharpened by years of silence. And it came back tenfold.

So he lashed out.

He said things he regretted the moment they left his mouth. Words tipped in venom he didn't mean, designed only to push her away before he lost control entirely. He made cheap jokes about her love life — jabs about her being "frigid" that made George give him a sideways look, even if no one else caught the tremor in his voice. But Fred knew the truth behind them.

He hadn't said those things because he believed them.

He said them because he needed to know. Needed to know how far she'd gone with Malfoy. How deep that sting ran. What she'd given away in dark corners while he sat in his dorm room writing her name in diary pages and trying not to care. He hated himself for needing to know. And hated himself more for not being able to handle it.

It was a sick form of self-punishment — dragging out answers he didn't even want, just to twist the knife a little deeper. Every time her face flickered with hurt or her voice tightened with restrained fury, it landed somewhere inside his chest that still hoped she'd see past the cruelty to what was underneath.

But she didn't.

Not at first.