Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Nancy shifts her weight between her feet as she stands on the platform. 9 and ¾ is as busy as it always is at the beginning of every new school year, crowded with families and students and trunks, the bustle so thick that Nancy can barely see through it. The whistle of the train and the screeching of owls could be heard over all of the overlapping and interceding conversations and Nancy would wince at the noise if she wasn’t so focused on the churning of nerves in her stomach. She’s the oldest of her siblings, but her family had a rich history in the wizarding world. There were certain expectations that Nancy had to meet, even if her parents didn’t stress the issue. Her mum lays a hand that she’s sure is supposed to be comforting on her shoulder, but it just makes Nancy stiffen more. She can’t quite meet her eyes.

Nancy looks at Mike instead. At nine years old, he’s still bright-eyed, looking around the platform with barely concealed jealousy, staring astounded at the scarlet train puffing smoke. Nancy can’t help but smile at his expression. She’ll miss him whilst she's gone. Sure, he’s her annoying little brother, but that doesn’t mean she wants to leave him.

“Now, Nancy,” her mum starts, a warm smile on her face, “Have you got everything? Lots of jumpers and thick socks? That castle gets cold, you know.” Nancy manages to meet her eyes now and feels a sick rush of nerves swoop in her stomach once more. Her mum doesn’t look stressed or worried, but she knows that the expression on her father’s face is one of rigid expectation. He had always been the firmer of the two of them. Holly was the only one he showed any softness for these days.

“Karen, she’ll be fine, I’m sure she has plenty of clothes,” he sighs, like it’s a burden to be here. Her parents, in stark contrast to Nancy’s own troubled state, were like an island of supreme calm in the busy station, standing tall and straight, looking unbothered, even as they were jostled in the busy platform. Nancy knows that her dad is proud of her, but it has always been in a distant way.

“Yes, Mum,” she says, smiling despite herself, “I have everything. The house elves checked my trunk before we left the house.” Her voice falls a little flat, even to her own ears, but she couldn’t help that. Something in her mum’s face twists, perhaps in sympathy, but Nancy isn’t too bothered about leaving home — she had always been pretty independant, and the prospect of leaving them didn’t make her nervous. It is apprehension that she is feeling. She’s nervous for what comes next: home and her tutors and the guidance of her parents constitutes familiar territory. Hogwarts, despite all the stories and assurances from her mum, is something entirely different.

“Remember to work hard and make us proud,” her dad tells her, his eyes soft even as his mouth settles into a hard line. There was a sort of untold warning in his voice that maybe just Nancy hears as she tries not to clench her jaw. She didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to let down her family’s legacy or set a bad example for her siblings. Mike pulls at her hand, reluctant to let her go, and it takes a lot not to pull him into a rough hug. She wants to keep her composure here on the platform, though. She doesn’t want to be known as the little first year who crumbled whilst saying goodbye to her family. So, she settles for ruffling his hair, grinning despite everything when his smile twists into an annoyed grimace at the gesture. Her brother is nothing if not predictable.

Nancy turns back to look at her dad, aware of the weight of his eyes. Karen looks a little more gentle, but she doesn’t say anything to refute her husband’s words as Nancy nods on cue. “I will.” The words were rehearsed and robotic, but her father appeared satisfied enough.

“And don’t forget to write,” her mum chimes back in, a warm smile on her face and her dark brown eyes twinkling tenderly. Nancy fails to come up with an equally genuine smile. She knows that, even if she does write, her parents would struggle to get around to replying, and any response was more likely to be written by one of the house elves. Whilst it was true that her mum had always tried to be there for Nancy, Mike and Holly, she was just as split between work and family as her dad was. She appreciated the effort, but it all seemed to fall a little short, especially now.

“At least you will have Hopper as your Head of House. He’s a good man, you know. Used to be a great Auror, if I remember right, but he’ll take care of you.” Nancy stiffens at the mention of Houses. She knows what her parents expect, both of them: Gryffindor. Wheelers had been Gryffindors since the inception of their family line and Nancy wasn’t going to be the first one to break tradition. She nods, swallowing hard and choosing not to reply. Her parents don’t seem to notice, her father clapping on the shoulder once in some form of acknowledgement or goodbye before beginning to turn on his heel to stride away.

She looks around at the mass of people — families with younger children, and students wearing Hogwarts robes, and friends running about. Nancy tries not to sigh. She doesn’t see any of the other kids she knows from Pureblood circles. The sea of black school robes just melts individuals into each other, and Nancy knows she’ll probably have to hold her own till she gets Sorted and can find some more Gryffindor first years. Loneliness presses down on her chest until she felt it ache. Nancy scoffs to herself: she isn’t even on the train yet and she is already acting like this. Her mum, lingering for just a second longer than her father who is already beginning to push through the crows, sends her a sad look.

“Goodbye, Nancy,” she gets out, voice soft. “We’ll miss you.” Mike echoes her sentiment as he clings to Nancy’s brand new school robes for another moment before following in his mother’s footsteps instead as they walk away, Nancy quickly losing sight of them in the crowd. Nancy doesn’t look for them again as she begins to make her way towards the train. It would just make the ache in her chest a little more acute, after all, so what’s the point?

Most of the other students are heading for the train now, so it’s easy for Nancy to pick herself up and get onboard, pulling her robes a little tighter around her body. Most of the other kids are in muggle clothes, but her Pureblood parents wouldn’t consider it appropriate to buck wizarding tradition like that, focused as always on fitting into their type, so now it’s Nancy who sticks out. She keeps her head down and focuses on pulling her trunk along after her, glad that Hogwarts cases came with Extension and Feather-Light Charms included. She manages to get her trunk into an empty compartment and hurls it onto the luggage rack with a loud huff. Before she takes her seat, she slips her wand out of her robe pocket and smiles down at it. She really loves her wand - long and elegant and fitting perfectly in her hand, Nancy thinks of all the times that her tutors had explained that her real wand, as opposed to her practice ones, would feel like an extension of herself and her magic. She’d only been to Ollivander’s last week, but the wood already felt warm and familiar underneath her fingers.

Nancy slips the wand back into her pocket, making sure it’s not jostled out as she collapses into her seat. She very carefully did not look out of the window to try and spot her parents. She knew they hadn’t lingered, busy with Mike and getting back to Holly and work. Nancy is fine with it, she tells herself firmly, shoving away the strange ache in her chest. Instead, she leans her head on the window, resolving to simply sleep until the train reached Hogwarts. Hopefully she would just wake up in time to get her stuff together and be timely in getting off the train. Nancy thrives off of organisation, and she’s pretty sure falling asleep is the only way to stop herself from stressing about the Sorting the entire ride.

However, before she could slip into sleep, the door of the compartment opened with a creaking groan, startling Nancy upwards, the window fogged up from where her cheek had rested and her breath had clouded. Her head snaps to face the doorway, seeing a girl standing there, still slightly shrouded in the shadows of the hallway of the train.

“Uh, sorry,” the newcomer mutters, shifting uncertainly between her feet. Nancy stares at her for a long moment, taking in the picture. Boyish features stand out on her face, exacerbated by the muggle clothing she wears and the trousers that come with it. Though she seems to be trying to be confident, her features arranged into a sure expression, it isn’t hard to see the nervousness working its way through her body, be it in the tapping of her fingers or the way that her shoulders are up around her ears. She looks a little dishevelled in an old jumper with a shaggy haircut. The girl clears her throat and tries again. “Everywhere else is full. Can I sit here?”

Nancy doesn’t say anything for a beat. On the one hand, she doesn’t really want to deal with other people right now, happy for her own nerves and uncertainty to manifest in standoffishness. The prospect of awkward small talk and answering questions is enough to make her bristle. Still, there’s something about the other girl, and the glint in her eyes, that makes Nancy soften and shrug, flicking her eyes to the opposite seat in the same motion. If this girl turns out to be too annoying, she would just tell her to shut up. Or maybe jinx her. That is always a good option. The girl takes it as permission, her expression clearing as she lugs her trunk into the compartment, managing to stow it before collapsing into the seat across from Nancy.

She looks down at the hem of her robes with a frown, wishing that her parents would allow her to wear muggle style clothing for once in her life and just blend in. She understands that they’re purebloods, but most wizards wear at least some muggle garments. The girl across from her doesn’t seem to notice the source of her unhappiness, though she does look at her a bit warily. Still, she seems relieved enough to have been granted a seat, and fixes Nancy with a wide smile bright enough to blind. “I’m Robin.”

Nancy nods, quirking her lips up into the smallest smile. “Nancy Wheeler.”

“Are you a pureblood?” The other girl asks her, leaning forward slightly as she raises an eyebrow, her head tilted to the side like an inquisitive puppy. Seeing as she was in robes, she figures it’s pretty easy for Robin to figure that out.

“Yeah, I am,” Nancy responds, telling herself that she isn’t laughing even as she has to duck her head to hide her smile. Robin grins back, nodding along, but there’s a blankness to her expression that speaks volumes. Nancy is kind of glad for it: blood status may be something that the Slytherins valued above all else, but it meant that most half-bloods and muggleborns take her for a snobby asshole.

Nancy regards the other girl, who’s shifting awkwardly in her seat, and takes pity on her. “You’re obviously not a pureblood,” she remarks, dry and cool as she raises an eyebrow. Robin just nods with a half-smile. “Half or muggle?” Smart money is on muggleborn, Nancy knows, but it would be rude not to ask. Still, the girl’s obvious discomfort on the train and the world of magic, as well as not knowing anyone else, makes that obvious enough.

“I’m a muggleborn,” Robin laughs, like the matter of blood is nothing. Nancy supposes it isn’t to anyone with any sense, but the wizarding world lacks that at the best of times. She considers saying something, but there’s not much point in it. It isn’t like she’ll be stuck with Robin for much longer than this train ride. “My family doesn’t exactly understand any of this, nor did they really want me to go to Hogwarts.”

Nancy frowns at that. Robin shrugs, brushing the comment away with little ceremony, and her tone had been light enough that she decides it isn’t worth it to push. She doesn’t need to stick her nose in. They aren’t friends. Still. “But you’re here anyway?”

Robin laughs as she shrugs. “Well, it was either that or keep me around whilst I kept accidentally blowing stuff up.”

“Alright,” Nancy concedes with a smile, “that’s fair enough.” She sends her a quick smile, one that was more than a little fake, before turning her attention back to the countryside moving past them — at least, she does, till Robin breaks the silence. “So, what house do you think you’ll be in?”

“I’m going to be a Gryffindor,” she says quickly, not allowing that nagging feeling of doubt, the churning in her stomach to delay or change her answer. “All my family were and I will be too.” It’s a challenge and a declaration all in one. Robin raises an eyebrow, smiling along, but Nancy can tell that there’s some confusion there too. “Do you know about all the houses?”

Robin fixes her with a slightly sheepish smile, though it’s in no way dimmed or lessened by her obvious ignorance. “Not really,” she easily admits, “what are they all supposed to be like?”

Nancy is prevented from answering immediately by someone else knocking on the compartment door. “Wheeler,” she hears as she turns her head to look and she’s not surprised to see Barbara Holland standing in the doorway.

“Barb,” Nancy greets easily, shifting in her seat in a clear gesture for Barb to come sit next to her. It’s one that the taller girl takes, and there’s something in Nancy’s chest that loosens just a little as she does so. Robin’s nice enough, even from such a short conversation, but Nancy wasn’t in the mood for entertaining all the questions someone new to magic might have on her own. Barb, an undoubtable Ravenclaw through and through, would likely get much more joy from answering Robin’s questions than Nancy. “Good summer?”

Barb snorts. “Suppose so,” she grunts with a shrug. “Shame your parents didn’t let you out of that house more often.”

Nancy grimaces. “Had to watch Mike and Holly. They’re only little.” It’s true, with her siblings being years younger than her, but Nancy has never felt smaller than she does today. The irony of it all seems to escape everyone but her, so convinced of their own worth even as they grapple with the nerves of finally going to Hogwarts.

“Still,” Barb insists with a tilt of her head, staring at Nancy so intently that she has to look away. It’s then that she catches the curious gaze of Robin, who had been apparently content to watch this interaction without bringing any attention to herself. Nancy tries not to sigh.

“Sorry, Robin. This is Barbara Holland, my friend.”

Barb tips her head in acknowledgement, though she only flicks her eyes to Robin for the briefest second before she’s fixing Nancy with a questioning look that she can only shrug off. “Nice to meet you, Robin.”

“Yeah, you too,” Robin manages to say, though she looks significantly more awkward now as she shifts to sit on her hands, which is apparently the only way to stop her from wringing them absently. Nancy watches the anxious motion with a little amusement, and Robin winces when she realises that Nancy has noticed the habit. She decides to have a little mercy on the other girl and move the conversation along on her own.

“Alright, well, I was just explaining the houses to Robin, but you would probably do a better job than me, Barb,” Nancy explains, leaning back in her seat and gesturing for Barb to go on with a wave of her hand. Barb seems happy to launch into a detailed history of the founding of Hogwarts and the conflicts in ideology ingrained into its history. Nancy can’t tell how much of it Robin absorbs, but the other girl nods along well enough, raising her eyebrows and humming in acknowledgement at all the right times. It’s fair, she supposes as she tunes out the familiar lecture, when this is all new to her. Nancy might take some of this all for granted, she admits to herself as she watches quiet wonder and curiosity play out across Robin’s face at even the most simple of tales.

Robin nods along with Barb’s explanation, humming in consideration once she finishes. “I think I would be happy with any house, to be honest, but I just don’t feel like I would really suit Slytherin or Ravenclaw. I will probably be either a Hufflepuff, that sounds like the lamest, so.” Robin laughs self-deprecatingly, shrugging bashfully even as Nancy’s mouth ticks into a frown. She doesn’t know the other girl well enough to argue, but she’s filled with a strange need to prove that Hufflepuff is a good house.

“I hear the Puff common room is next to the kitchens, so there is that if you turn out to be a Hufflepuff,” she tells her passively, raising her eyebrow as she turns back to the window, like she isn’t really paying attention. Still, she catches a smile tugging at the corners of Robin’s lips, one that seemed to be getting a little more real and a little less nervous by the second. Next to her, Barb sends Nancy a curious glance, familiar enough with her to know that Nancy isn’t usually this happy to engage in small talk, but she shrugs and lets it go, and Nancy is filled with a strange and immediate gratitude for her best friend. Her parents like Barb well enough, despite not being from a well-established family, and she’s glad that she at least has this.

Robin laughs, her head tipping back and white teeth flashing. Nancy is surprised by the urge to smile, forcing her lips downwards in response. “Yeah,” Robin grins happily, “I would be happy with the kitchens. And you said that the Slytherin areas in the dungeons?” Barb nods in response, a frown that Nancy is sure she doesn’t consciously summon twisting her features.

“If you want my two Knuts, Slytherin is probably the one place you don’t want to end up.”

Nancy nods, raising an eyebrow even as she leans her head against the cool glass of the train window. “Yeah,” she mumbles, Robin’s eyes heavy on her for some reason, “I don’t know many people in Slytherin but apparently, those dungeons are a bit cold and damp — the perfect place for snakes.”

Robin frowns, looking a bit confused, and Barb takes the time to answer an unasked question. “Gryffindor and Slytherin have a bit of a rivalry. Wheeler here is from pure Gryffindor stock, even if her family is one of the more neutral ones.”

Robin hums, either in understanding or the facsimile of it. Nancy resists the urge to laugh, thinking to herself that the other girl looks a little bit like a lost puppy. Suddenly, she’s not so annoyed about having to take her under their wing. “Plus, a Muggleborn like you would get eaten up in there,” Nancy adds helpfully, letting her smile take just a little bit of sharpness as Robin’s eyes widen.

“Thank you for the help, guys,” Robin says, rubbing at the back of her neck and keeping her eyes averted. Nancy is glad that no one else is aware of the flash of warmth that rushes through her chest as she notices the delicate flush covering the other girl’s cheeks. “I read Hogwarts: A History, but it was supposed to be pretty impartial and didn’t really tell me all the things people who’ve grown up here will know.” Nancy laughs, a genuine one that almost slipped out of her mouth, her eyes crinkling and a small snort escaping the way that always happened when she laughed honestly.

Barb huffs a surprised chuckle herself. “No one ever makes Wheeler laugh for real. You should feel honoured, Robin.”

The other girl grins at Barb’s words, though her eyes are fixed on Nancy, who can feel a scarlet blush overtaking her neck and cheeks at the delighted look in Robin’s eyes. “Did you just snort?”

“No,” Nancy retorts primly, turning back to the countryside whipping past the window, pretending that she doesn’t see Barb and Robin’s matching grins in the reflection of the glass. It makes a little of the indignant embarrassment flood out of her at the sight. “You both suck,” she mutters under her breath, but she knows it’s clear that she doesn’t. Barb gives her a familiar nudge, the brush of warm skin something that she’s used to and recognises at this point.

The countryside zooms past them, a blur of green fields and hedges and blue skies with white clouds. It is pretty clear and warm for the beginning of September, and the train ride is more enjoyable than she had expected. Robin was alright for someone she hadn’t wanted anything to do with only minutes ago.

“How did you figure out that you were magical?” Barb asks, leaning forward, her eyes lighting up as she presses for information.

Robin chuckles to herself, raising her eyebrows in amusement. “I had no idea that I was a witch, or that they even existed. My family didn’t tell me of anyone in the family if they knew either. I don’t think they thought magic was even real. Not sure if they do now. I was a pretty normal kid until I got that letter from a goddamn owl.”

“Well, I think most muggles would be pretty shocked to get a letter from an owl,” Nancy mutters to herself, lips quirking up into a smile. “I’m under the impression, even as a pureblood, that our mail system is maybe less efficient than yours. Owls are nature’s slowest flying bird, you know.”

Robin grins, snapping her fingers as she points at Nancy in agreement. “Exactly. Animal cruelty on a cultural level, you guys.”

Barb hums in consideration, tilting her head as she thinks. “I suppose it’s a little ridiculous that, when we have Apparation, we still use owls.” The other girl fell silent as she appeared to consider alternative systems for their mail delivery, and Nancy wants to laugh at how typical it is.

A sudden rap at the door interrupts them, and Nancy tries not to stiffen as she calls for the person on the other side of the door to open it. She is expecting it to be some other student searching for their friends, but instead the trolley lady pokes her head into the compartment, friendly smile already plastered across her face. “Can I get you dears anything from the trolley?” She asked, voice bright and eyes shining, and Nancy can’t help but ease a little, shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah, thank you, can we just get some chocolate frogs, please?” Nancy asks, Barb nodding in agreement next to her. Robin’s face falls a little as she pats a hand unconsciously over her pocket and Nancy curses her thoughtlessness. She’s not stupid — she notices the shabby cuffs and ill fitting trousers, the clearly second hand clothes and slightly moth bitten jumper. Besides, even if she had loads of muggle money, it wouldn’t do Robin any good on the train. “On second thoughts, a couple more frogs, some Bertie’s Beans and three licorice wands, please.”

Robin looks at her in surprise as Nancy hands over the coins and the trolley lady moves on, Barb wordlessly helping her divvy the sweets up between the three of them. She does her best not to meet the muggleborn’s eyes as she passes her the food. It isn’t like she doesn’t have the money, with her family being well enough that she doesn’t have to worry too much about pocket money, and this doesn’t make them friends for life or anything. She’s just being polite and courteous.

“You’re getting soft, Nance,” Barb whispers to her, teasing smile pulling at her lips as she leans closer to her, and Nancy pushes her away with a roll of her eyes, pretending that she isn’t blushing as she does so. She barely knows Robin. Barb can go stuff it.

“Are you sure I can share?” Robin asks softly, looking confused and a little guilty. Nancy doesn’t fight her soft smile this time, even as Barb laughs.

“You don’t think I got this all for myself, do you?”

Robin flushes, averting her eyes. She accepts the sweets with a grateful smile, but still looks uncomfortable enough that Nancy feels a spike of guilt. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” she says gently, but Robin shakes her head.

“No, I appreciate it. You just didn’t have to.”

Barb breaks the strange awkward tension with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry, Robin, Nancy never does anything she doesn’t want to do if she has a choice. She’s not the type to be this nice, either. Feel honoured.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, shoving Barb absently with her shoulder. “I did it because I wanted to. Dig in, Robin.”

The edges of Robin’s smile even out as she nods. “Do you have any idea how much longer till we will reach Hogwarts?” She asks as she examines a pack of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, frowning as she notices some of the options and perhaps wisely placing it aside in favour of a chocolate frog.

She shrugs. “My parents said the journey is a couple of hours, but I don’t know how far we’ve gone. Also, you should watch out,” she warns, a wry smile pulling at her lips. Robin’s restless hands are pulling the packaging of the chocolate frog apart, and she is half tempted to let her go into it blind, but takes pity on her at the last moment. Robin’s eyes glint as she tilts her head in question, freezing, and Nancy has to try not to laugh as she nods at her hands. “I don’t know if you’ve had one of those before, but they leap.”

Robin looks up sharply, surprise colouring her features and fingers pausing. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Barb laughs, raising an eyebrow. “They’re magic chocolate frogs, what do you think?”

“Most things that are supposed to be about to be eaten don’t move where I come from,” Robin fires back, dry and unimpressed and Nancy figures that’s fair enough. “But I guess you warned me.”

Nancy grins, pretending to frown. “Kind of wish I didn’t. I’m realising now how funny it would have been if I hadn’t.”

“Live and learn,” Robin shrugs, cracking a smile as Barb and Nancy both laugh. She turns back to the chocolate frog, a determined expression settling across her face. She carefully peels the last of the wrappings away and, before the frog could leap away, manages to get a firm grip on it. Still, she pays the price for it.

Robin’s hands come away covered in chocolate. “Ah, shit”, she mutters as she looks at them, searching gingerly for a napkin or tissue. Nancy can’t help but laugh, though it turns softer when Robin looks up with a pout. In response, she pulls her out her wand quickly and holds it up. “Put your hands up.”

Without missing a beat, Robin holds her hands up, sticky palms facing her, in mock surrender. “Please,” she pretends to beg, “don’t shoot.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Nancy deadpans, though Barb is snickering and Robin is grinning now. “Well, why don’t I just leave you to be covered in chocolate all evening, then?”

Robin shakes her head, still smothering her laughter even as she fixes Nancy with a genuinely pleading look. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please help.”

“Thought so,” Nancy retorts, raising her wand again and taking a deep breath. No small amount of nerves flicker in her chest. She’s studied and practised, but she’s never cast much magic before. “Tergeo,” she says firmly, enunciating the words as best as she can, a surge of satisfaction running through her as the chocolate disappears.

Wonder seems to spark in Robin’s eyes as she stares at her hands and at Nancy’s wand, even as Barb snorts and mutters, “showoff,” under her breath. Nancy shoves Barb with her shoulder, pretending that her ears aren’t flaming red.

“What?” Nancy scowls, Robin colouring as she looks away.

“Sorry, I just haven’t exactly seen much magic,” she manages to get out, expression sheepish as she keeps looking at her newly clean hands in amazement.

Realisation dawns on Nancy. That’s a pretty fair reaction for someone who hasn’t grown up around magic and likely hasn’t seen many spells being performed. “Oh, of course.” She clears her throat carefully, pretending that her cheeks aren’t flushing. “What card did you get with your frog?” At Robin’s confused look, she elaborates, “all the Chocolate Frogs have collectible cards of famous people in them.”

Robin picks through the wrappings until she pulls the card out, holding it up proudly. “Someone called Donaghan Tremlett?”

Barb nods, grinning. “He plays bass for the Weird Sisters. Nice one, I don’t think I have that card yet.”

Robin shrugs, handing it over easily. “If you collect them, go ahead.”

“You sure?” Barb checks, already reaching out for it, and Robin nods, half-smiling. Nancy tries not to smile as she watches Barb warm up to the other girl in real-time. In return, Barb’s lips quirk up into a smile, only a tinge of teasing in the eyes behind her glasses. “Do you want to see some more magic?”

The way that Robin perks up instantly is honestly a little hilarious. It reminds Nancy of a dog’s ears shooting upwards at the sound of its name. The excited nodding of Robin’s head doesn’t do much to dispel that image either. “If that’s okay? Aren’t we only supposed to use magic at school?”

Nancy nods, snorting a little as she tries to explain. “The way that the Ministry monitors underage magic is by seeing if there is any magic performed around them, right? It’s called the Trace. But if you live in a household with other wizards, do you think the Ministry will send someone to your house every time that someone in your area does a spell?”

Understanding seems to dawn across the other girl’s face as Robin and Jason sat back, thinking about Kim’s words. “So basically, if you’re a pureblood or a halfblood, or if you just live around wizards, you can do whatever you like?”

“Pretty much,” Barb nods, grimacing. “Bullshit, isn’t it?”

“That’s the best they could come up with?”

Nancy laughs. “Apparently.”

Robin sighs, a wry smile twisting her lips. “So, I’m more behind than I thought, then, if you guys could just cast magic whenever you wanted.”

“Yeah, but no one really gets wands before eleven, so it could be worse.”

Robin sighs. There’s a hint of something actually upset behind her eyes, an insecurity and anxiety that glints, but she covers it with a sheepish smile. “Well, go ahead and show off, then.”

Nancy pretends to scowl, but she raises her wand all the same, aiming it at Robin’s jumper. “May I?” she asks, with a tilt of her head, focusing again when Robin nods. “Colovaria.”

Robin’s jumper transforms from blue to bright red, though the spell doesn’t do anything for the frayed cuffs and moth bitten wool. The girl looks down at herself in amazement, laughing to herself as she examines the material. Nancy tamps down her smile, fiddling with her wand as she stuffs it back into the pocket of her robes.

It’s a strange thing to confront: Nancy has always taken her proximity and access to magic for granted. Even without a wand, witnessing magic and learning about it had been a given. Robin’s unfamiliarity is hard for her to comprehend. Nancy can’t imagine only learning about magic now, can’t imagine never knowing that she was a witch. The prospect of mastering spellwork had always fascinated her: it’s part of how she’s always defined herself, of how she’s defined the world. Robin has none of that, and it’s a strange realisation as she watches wonder and astonishment dance through Robin’s eyes.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes. Barb’s laugh cuts through the moment.

“Wheeler is just showing off.”

Nancy tries not to pout. “Alright, then. Let’s see what you can do.”

Her best friend fixes her with a confident smile, never cocky but never anything less than sure of herself. Nancy can’t help but wonder for a second how she manages it. Barb has always been more shy than her, but she’s never questioned her own self for a second. Sometimes it feels like all Nancy does is second-guess. Barb clears her throat, pushing her glasses delicately up the arch of her nose, brandishing her wand with a confidence that doesn’t fit the fact that she only got it a few weeks ago. She seems to think for a beat before smiling. “Flagrate.” The tip of her wand practically ignites with a warm glow, fiery sparks spitting from the end of it. But there is no heat, no fire either, as a trail of light follows the motion of the wand through the air. Barb writes out both Nancy and Robin’s names, settling back into her seat with a confident smile as the letters linger in the air between them.

Robin prods at them curiously, tilting her head as she looks at Barb. “Why could you make separate letters rather than one continuous line that you could then make into letters? Why is there no join between the letters?”

Barb grins, and Nancy resists the urge to groan. Her best friend likes nothing more than understanding the intricacies behind spells. “It relies on concentration and will. It writes what you want it to write. If you wanted to move them, for instance…” She trails off and flicks her wand again, and the letters in the air rearrange themselves to spell both names backwards before returning once more to their original positions on Barb’s command.

“That’s incredible,” Robin grins, awe and wonder completely sincere. Barb inflates at the praise and Nancy shakes her head.

“Careful, Robin, or you’ll give her an ego. Besides, she’s read all the textbooks for this year both forwards and backwards at this point. You shouldn’t ask her too many questions.”

Barb glares at her, no heat behind it, as Robin laughs. “Wow, so you really will be a Ravenclaw, huh?”

“That’s the leading guess, but I’m not out-ruling Hufflepuff,” Barb says with a shrug, but anyone who knows her can see the truth. Nancy indulges the false debate instead, sending her best friend a warm smile. Still, Barb treats it all like it’s no big deal. Nancy shifts, trying not to squirm at the thought of being anything but Gryffindor. She thinks of the stories of Hogwarts that her mum used to tell her at night when she was younger and wouldn’t settle down for bed. She remembers the warm smile that would grace her mum’s face at the memories, the intricate tails she would weave of pranks and laughter and camaraderie in Gryffindor. She tries to picture herself in any other house, in any other colours but red and gold, and decides she doesn’t like the image before it even forms.

Suddenly, despite how surprisingly nice Robin was to talk to, Nancy wants nothing more than to be on her own. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but if we still have a few hours before we get to the castle, I’m going to take a nap.”

Barb snickers. “Fair enough. I’ll wake you in time to get ready.”

Nancy sends her a grateful smile in thanks, settling into her corner. She can feel Robin’s eyes on her as she leans back, her head resting against the slightly rattling window, the condensation cool on her cheek. She ignores it all firmly, though there’s a spark of gratitude in her chest when Barb easily casts a spell to darken the interior of their compartment. Between the gentle rocking movement of the train and the comforting buzz of Robin and Barb’s lowered voices, it’s easy to slip into sleep, a handy distraction from the nerves churning in Nancy’s stomach.

————

Nancy jolts awake as someone shakes at her shoulder. “Wheeler, come on. Time to get off the train.” Barb’s voice is low but firm as Nancy grumbles under her breath. She has to blink a couple of times to remember where they are. The train isn’t still yet, the carriage rattling around them. Robin sends her a sheepish grin as she looks over at her, still as dishevelled and scruffy-looking in her robes as she was in her Muggle clothes. The sleeves hang almost completely past her hands, clearly at least one size too big for her, but it suits her in a strange way.

Something about the situation makes her flush a little, scarlet heat spreading over her cheeks as she gets up, brushing herself down. She’s glad now that her parents insisted that she wear her robes to start off with, even if they’re a little wrinkled now. Robin goes to lift the trunks down, stopped by Barb’s hand on her arm. She looks at the two of them curiously, brow furrowed as they smile at her. “Don’t worry about it, Robin. We are supposed to leave our luggage here. It gets taken to the castle for us.”

“Really?” Robin asks, surprised and doubtful. Barb nods with a laugh, but it doesn’t stop Robin from casting one last doubtful look at their stacked trunks in the luggage rack as they are corralled off the train amongst the sea of other students as it comes to a stop at the tiny Hogsmeade station.

The night air was cold against Nancy’s skin and she shivered slightly in the wind, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. The sun had well and truly set whilst they were on the train. “Any idea where we are supposed to go?” Robin whispers to the two of them as they stand on the platform with their cases, and an answer comes in the form of a tall, grey haired man with a severe expression.

“First years! With me, Professor Brenner!” He calls, holding a lantern aloft, and Nancy can see now that there’s a gaggle of kids amassing at his ankles. It’s almost an amusing image, but Nancy schools her expression as the three of them joined the crowd following him down a narrow path to the edge of a great dark lake, the water glimmering with the reflection of firelight from the castle in the night. All that she can see is a watery reflection, a shimmering image of the castle, lit up in all its grandeur. She hears Robin’s sharp intake of breath next to her, and Nancy would laugh if she didn’t feel a similar warmth in her chest. Even having been part of the wizarding world her whole life, there is something special about the image of Hogwarts, jutting out of the countryside like a monument.

“Four to a boat!” Brenner directs, students streaming into rickety-looking wooden boats that had been shored up on the bank. Most of the material had already rotted away, the boats breaking apart in places. Nancy looks doubtfully at them, Barb already laughing at the expression on her face. These things look like they’ll sink the second that they are launched out onto the water, even without any students in them.

“Are those things actually safe?” Robin mutters, and Barb shrugs.

“They’re magic, so probably?”

Nancy tries to disguise her snort of disbelief. “Two Galleons says we sink or fall apart before we reach the castle either way.” She raises an eyebrow at Barb, who laughs as she shakes her head, her glasses glinting with firelight in the darkness of the night.

“That’s a waste of Galleons, Wheeler. No deal.”

Robin sends Nancy a conciliatory wince. “Nice try, Nancy.”

She laughs as she steps into the boat, the three of them huddling into one of the sturdier looking sections, glad that another student hadn’t been ushered into their boat, rickety as it seems already. Once they set off, though, the little boats glide along quite happily, moving silently creating tiny waves in the glassy surface of the lake as they go. Robin lets out a low whistle, wonder flitting across her expression.

“Magic,” she whispers under her breath, more to herself than anything, and Barb and Nancy exchange amused glances. It’s fair enough from a muggleborn, but Nancy can’t imagine finding such awe for such tiny acts of magic anymore. She used to fall into a trance every time her father would conjure tiny glass bubbles to float around her head, or make her toys fly in circles around her bedroom. He hasn’t done that for her in a long time.

Eventually, their boat reaches the sandy bank of the lake, and they all look up at the looming castle. Nerves begin to properly churn in her gut now, no matter how much Nancy tries to keep her head high and her back straight. Butterflies come to life in her stomach, fluttering and flitting until she thinks she might be sick. The group of first years traipse up the path to the castle. Professor Brenner looks over them all sternly, an unreadable expression fixed on his face. “The Welcoming Feast will begin in just a minute, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, there will be the Sorting Ceremony to place you all into your houses. The Sorting is an important and vital tradition here at Hogwarts. While you are here, your house will be something like your family within the school. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.”

Professor Brenner looks over them all for a beat. Something about his gaze makes Nancy want to curl into herself and hide, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it before he is already finishing off. “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school.” Nancy has to try not to let her hands shake as she takes in his words. “Please go in now, all of you.”

The crowd of first years shuffle into the Great Hall as a big, sheepish looking, group. Nancy is glad that she is small enough to blend into the crowd, relatively hidden next to Barb and Robin, who are both taller than her. She can notice that properly, now that they aren’t crammed into a small train compartment and sitting down. Robin is taller than she had realised, all long and gangly limbs and big jutting elbows. It makes her look a little comical, like she’s yet to grow into her arms and legs, as well as her ears for that matter. But she’s looking around with plain, unabashed wonder at the floating candles and enchanted ceiling and Nancy can’t help but smile despite herself.

They come to a stop in front of a small platform at the front of the Hall. Nancy isn’t surprised by the nausea that churns in her gut, not the lump that sticks in her throat, but she tries to swallow past them all the same. The Hat sits, slumped and creased, on the stool, silent and motionless before the gathered students of Hogwarts. It looks so harmless, so innocuous. The first years all thrum with nervous energy, some not knowing what to expect when it comes to the Hat, and those who did still worried about their house. One’s house has a massive impact on everything at Hogwarts - how others view you, who you are more likely to spend time with, your lesson timetable.

Professor Brenner, somehow even more tall and imposing in the grandness of the Great Hall, stands before them all. He picks up a scroll of parchment from next to the Hat, clearing his throat roughly as he starts to read from it. “Jemima Ailington.”

A tiny blonde girl makes her way shyly to the front of the group and blushes as the Hat was placed on her head. There’s only a few beats before the Hat calls out, “Ravenclaw!” The table on the left starts clapping and hollering, Jemima happily scurrying over to join them.

“So, what? We just put a Hat on and it tells us what house we are in?” Robin hisses to her under her breath. Nancy fixes her with a raised eyebrow in warning but nods all the same. “That’s stupid.”

“Sorry, would you rather sit and take a test?” Nancy mumbles back, ignoring the way that her ears heat up at the proximity she has to maintain with Robin to keep the words quiet. She has to get up on her tiptoes to whisper in the taller girl’s ear, her hair tickling Nancy’s cheeks. Robin makes a muffled sound, almost a laugh before she catches it, and suddenly Nancy doesn’t feel so nervous. A couple of students are called before one of the three of them has their name read out. “Robin Buckley!” Brenner calls out, looking over them imperiously.

Next to her, Robin swallows hard, nerves finally replacing amazement on her face. Her hand brushes Nancy’s for a split second, fingers crooked so that they link for half of a breath. She’s surprised by the rough callouses that she can feel just from the brief contact, but more taken aback by how warm it feels. She sends Robin as much of a comforting look that she can, the taller girl sending her a weak smile in response before pulling away with a deep breath and walking up to the stool. Silence falls over the Hall as the applause for the last student Sorted dies down. Robin shifts on the stool, her nerves plain to see.

The Hat slumps over Robin’s eyes, the brim big enough to hide half of her face from view. There’s only a pause of a couple of seconds before the Hat takes a breath and announces, “Hufflepuff!”

The table of the right erupts into applause and cheers, Robin trotting happily over to join the other students, all of them in yellow and black ties and trimmed sweaters. She sends Barb and Robin a sheepish smile as she passes, and Nancy laughs at the clear reminder of their conversation on the train. “I guess she called it after all,” she mutters to Barb, who has to muffle her giggles in her sleeve. Nancy tells herself she isn’t that disappointed at the fact that Robin wouldn’t be in her house. Maybe if the other girl had been a Gryffindor, it would be easier to tell herself that she would be too. Doubt creeps in, dark fingers pulling at the edges of her mind. It’s going to be fine, Nancy tells herself, watching as Robin settles in easily with the other Hufflepuffs, another first year trotting over to join after their own sorting.

“You alright?” Barb murmurs, sending her a concerned glance as Nancy shifts on her feet.

She swallows. “Yeah.” Nancy steels herself, keeping her head high and brushing her hair away from her face. “Still betting you’ll get Ravenclaw.”

Barb scoffs good humouredly, ignoring the looks they get from other first-years around them. “You can give me those two Galleons from earlier if I get Hufflepuff like Robin.”

Nancy grins. “If that means you pay up when you’re in Ravenclaw, then sure.” They shake hands surreptitiously, and don’t actually have long to wait before Barb’s name comes up.

“Barbara Holland!” Professor Brenner calls, and Barb gives her a slightly nervous smile before striding up to the stool. She’s certain, yes, but she’s not smug about it. Barb’s been a straight call for Ravenclaw for years. But even if she gets Hufflepuff, or anything else, her family won’t care. Not like Nancy’s would.

Sure enough, the Hat barely brushes the top of Barb’s head before it’s yelling, “Ravenclaw!”

Barb fixes her with a wide grin, familiar and well worn and identical to all the smiles she’s ever given her their whole childhood. Something settles in her chest for the briefest moment before Barb disappears amongst the sea of blue and bronze and Nancy remembers that she is alone. With her name so far down alphabetically, she is left to wait for an excruciatingly long time, the crowd around her dwindling and narrowing until there’s only her and two other kids. She feels horribly exposed now, unable to hide in the sea of other faces and students.

“Nancy Wheeler.” Professor Brenner doesn’t say the name loudly, says it exactly the same way that he’s announced all of the other names, with quiet gravitas and weight. The name echoes around the stone walls of the Great Hall anyway, but that might all be in Nancy’s head as her stomach plummets to her feet. She’s sure that her feet have fused with the stone of the floor, but she manages a step forward anyway, the crowd of first years around her parting slightly as she makes her way towards the front.

She walks up the steps with her head held high and her hands still at her side. Gryffindor. She is going to be a Gryffindor, Nancy reminds herself, though she’s sure that the nerves churning in her stomach are argument enough against that idea.

The stool creaks slightly under her weight, the legs slightly wonky. Just before Professor Brenner can place the Sorting Hat on her head, she manages to catch sight of some of the students sitting at the Gryffindor table.

They are all watching her with expectant expressions — the Wheelers aren’t one of the oldest or most powerful pureblood families around, but they’re well known enough that some of the other students have recognised her last name. The faces are a sea of features that she doesn’t recognise but which recognise her, weighty and expectant silence settling over everyone.

The Hat’s rim dips just into her eyes as it’s placed clumsily over her head, so part of the world around her is obscured from view. Nancy swallows roughly, tangling part of her robes into her fists as she focuses hard on the idea of Gryffindor. She pictures herself at the table, in red and gold, matching the scarf that her mom had carefully folded into her trunk, her own from when she had been at Hogwarts. “‘Ah, a Wheeler,” The Hat’s voice is deeper than she would have thought, especially when it was loud in her ears. It sounds more amused than anything.

She knows that no one else can hear the words that the Hat told her, but that doesn’t stop her watching at the expressions of everyone else in the room with worry churning in her stomach. Nancy doesn’t say anything in response, just steeling herself. The Hat laughs softly in her ear. “A little different than the rest of your family, though. Plenty of Wheeler boldness, but something else too.”

It’s like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over her head. She feels something in her chest curls up a little in dread. She thinks about what a Gryffindor would say, what they would think. The Hat interrupts her before she can even say anything. “Oh, so that's what you want.”

Nancy scowls to herself. Fucking mind-reading magical objects. “Yes,” she thinks back, as bitterly and pointedly as she can. The Hat doesn’t seem swayed by her challenge.

“Well, I hate to say it, little Wheeler, but you don’t quite seem the Gryffindor type.”

Nancy tightens her fists, the fabric of her robes caught in her hands. She tries to take a deep breath, but it’s like a tightening cord around her lungs, and she suddenly feels her throat go completely dry.

“Please,” she manages to get out. “I have to be a Gryffindor. It’s what my family expects.”

The Hat hums, unmoved. “Certainly some Gryffindor stubbornness in there, but you wouldn’t fit there. You aren’t the first child to defy some expectations, and most of them turned out okay. It’s far better to end up where you really belong than try to fit yourself somewhere you aren’t made for.” The Hat sounds slightly confused, but understanding as well, and Nancy is suddenly faced with the enormity of this magical object’s existence, of all the students it has Sorted and all the people who it has watched pass through these halls.

Nancy grimaces. The Hat has a point, she hates to admit it. She tries to ignore the tightness in her chest, staying as calm and composed as possible. “Alright,” she manages to grumble out, aware that those closest to the front of the hall would likely hear it. “Where do I fit best, then?”

All of her life, she has worked to live up to the expectations of her parents, with the worry of not being who they wanted hanging over her for so long. The Wheeler family thrives off of being in the middle — not a staunch supporter of the Light or the Dark. Nancy, as their eldest daughter, was a large part of that. And now, it was all worthless.

“Well, I think I know exactly where you belong. It’s true that you’re stubborn and headstrong, like a Gryffindor. But you are also smart and value knowledge, like a Ravenclaw. You’re also loyal like a Hufflepuff would be.”

Nancy grimaces. She’s not sure which would be worse out of Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff — probably Hufflepuff, even if the image of Robin’s grinning face flashes through her head.

The Hat hums, voice low, before continuing. “Yes, it’s true that you have Hufflepuff loyalty and Ravenclaw smarts and Gryffindor stubbornness and courage, but none of those things are the core of you. You don’t fit right in any of those houses, but there is one where you fit perfectly. That’s why it has to be…”

Suddenly, the Hat booms out for the whole Great Hall to hear, “Slytherin!”

Nancy is pretty sure that she feels her heart stop in her chest. Her cheeks flush red with embarrassment and anger, the heat rushing across her skin as she tries not to shout. This must be a mistake, she thinks to herself. This can’t be right. She isn’t a Slytherin. She’s half-tempted to tell the hat that herself, but it doesn’t dignify her with a response no matter how aggressively she thinks at it, and then the fabric is lifting from her head as Professor Brenner stares at her expectantly, gesturing over to the Slytherin table with his eyes. His gaze slides away easily, already moving onto the next student. As she steps off the platform, leaving the rickety stool behind her along with the person that she used to be, the entire Hall seems to move on as well, only a few family friends still watching her as she makes her way to the Slytherin table. She wonders if they’ve realised that, whilst they’re all turning to the next Sorting, their world still spinning, hers has come to a dead stop.

Nancy doesn’t look at anyone as she strides, taking care to make sure that she doesn’t stumble or falter for a single second. She slips onto the end of the bench at the Slytherin table, already lost amongst the rest of the first years. Across the Hall, she makes eye contact with Robin, long settled at the Hufflepuff table. Nancy isn’t sure what she’s expecting. She’s been raised with enough prejudiced notions against Slytherin to feel like this is sin enough for someone to turn away, but Robin just sends her an excited smile and a thumb’s up, as if nothing has changed. As if Nancy isn’t already a different girl than the one that stepped off the train.

Nancy sends her a thin-lipped smile back, ducking her head fast enough that she only catches a glimpse of Robin’s hurt expression.

Nancy had been raised in the wizarding world, surrounded by stories and tales of Hogwarts and the years that her parents had there - this means that she knows exactly what Slytherin was about, and what it means that she had been sorted into the house. She remembers her older cousin whispering to her in hushed tones about how many dark wizards and witches came from Slytherin, about how every Slytherin he had ever met was an absolute bastard who was only out for themselves. Nancy thinks of Mike, of Holly. Wonders what it means about her that she would still do anything for them even now. Not a Slytherin, not a Wheeler.

She’s not sure if she wants to know where that leaves her.

Thanks to her childhood within Pureblood circles, Nancy is familiar enough with most of the people around her. Familiar enough to know that she should probably keep her head down. Carol Perkins, who’s a year older but has always loved picking on Nancy, sends her a sharp smile, a malicious glint dancing in her eyes. “Bet your parents won’t be too happy about this, Wheeler. Blood traitor coming back to the right side?”

Nancy does her best not to stiffen too much, settling for sending Carol a raised eyebrow before looking away pointedly. Carol snickers, thinking she’s won, but Nancy is Slytherin enough to know that she can’t make it look like they bother her. The whispers won’t end here. She can’t fall at the first hurdle. One of the other first years sends her a curious look, but Nancy meets his eyes with a blank stare and a downward quirk of her mouth. He looks away hurriedly enough. Carol turns back to her friends, sniggering under her breath and muttering barbed comments that are clearly aimed at her, if the fact that they are pointedly loud enough for her to hear is anything to go by. Nancy tries not to sigh too loudly as she watches Brenner wrap the Sorting up, staring solemnly down at her cutlery and crockery. She just needs to keep her head down, Nancy tells herself. She’ll make it through this.

There’s a bigger gap between her and the other first years, and she was the last one sorted into Slytherin, so Nancy is left alone on the edge of the bench, the wood hard beneath her legs and she digs her nails into the flesh of her palm as hard as she possibly can. The sharp sting distracts her enough that it doesn’t really hurt in her chest anymore, just her hands. Nancy thinks that’s preferable, as she keeps her head down, trying her best to stay small whilst also not looking like too much of an easy target.

She spots Barb at the Ravenclaw table, who raises a cool eyebrow at her but doesn’t look that surprised. Hot shame flushes through her as she waits for the inevitable embarrassed look to cross Barb’s face as she attempts to explain away their friendship to her new Ravenclaw housemates, but it never comes. Instead, the corner of Barb’s mouth twists up into a smile, her eyes crinkling around the edges, not quite hidden by her glasses, in the same way that it always did when she smiled for real, just like when they were kids. Suddenly, even though Nancy feels so different to when they used to spend their afternoons out in the grass, picking flowers or playing tag and pretending they were soaring through the sky on brooms, she can feel the warmth of the sun on her skin like it was yesterday. She remembers the feeling of dew on grass under her skin, the tender smile that Barb only ever sent her. Shame turns to relief, and Nancy wonders if she should feel worse for thinking Barb could ever be so shallow, or for being such herself.

It doesn’t wipe away the buzzing feeling under her skin, though, or the way that the bottom of her stomach has still dropped away. It doesn’t fix anything. She’s not sure if anything can.

Once the Feast is over, the prefects lead them all the way to the dungeons, the draughty hallways of the old castle echoing with their footsteps. Nancy remembers the joke she made about snakes in the dungeon back on the train, cold dread pooling at the bottom of her spine. It already feels so long ago. The Slytherin common room is cold, even just in decor, nothing like the descriptions of the Gryffindor Tower that she had been raised on. Green and silver banners hang on the wall, a fire blazing with armchairs and sofas around it, but none of it matters. Nancy feels like screaming. She feels like a ghost or like she’s possessing her own body, just going through the motions.

“Girl’s dorms are to the right and boy’s are to the left. Don’t sneak into each other’s rooms — the castle won’t let you. Breakfast is at 7:30,” the prefect who had been escorting them announces, his tone flat and bored, before spinning on his heel to join his friends in front of the fire. It isn’t late enough to want to go to bed, even as a first year, but Nancy is struck so firmly by the sense that she doesn’t belong here that she can’t help but want to escape. The first year girl’s dormitory is pretty small: there were only four of them, but Nancy has never wished for a little more privacy the way that she has now. She collapses onto the bed that already has her trunk resting at the foot, glad that there’s no one else up here yet. If she weren’t so sure that she’d be eaten up and spat out at the first sign of weakness, she would curl up and cry. It doesn’t matter that she hasn’t cried in years, told by her father that it’s not becoming of the heir to a pureblood line like theirs to not be able to compose themselves.

With a sigh that rattles her very bones, she rises, resolving to unpack instead. The first thing that greets her when she lifts the lid of her trunk is a red and gold scarf, slightly worn but clearly loved. The wool is soft to the touch, old and well-cared for. She recognises it. Half-wishes that she doesn’t. It’s her mother’s, a remnant of her own days at Hogwarts. Nancy swallows hard, suppressing the urge to bury her face in the fabric. She’s better than this.

She looks at it numbly. She could cast a Colour-Change Charm on it, if she wanted to make a point and stick with it, but something stops her from bringing her wand out. There’s something almost sacrilegious to the thought of doing that to her mum’s old scarf. It had clearly been an attempt at giving her something to make her think of home, but now all Nancy can picture is the disappointed expressions she’s sure will ingrain themselves into her parents’ features when they hear the news. Sighing, she buries the scarf at the very bottom of her trunk, pulling out her shirts and jumpers fresh for the morning instead.

When the other girls in her year, Cassie, Joanna and Lucy, finally climb the stairs, Nancy’s curtains are firmly shut.

————

Nancy isn’t surprised when a Jelly-Legs Jinx is aimed at her as she makes her way to the Slytherin table for breakfast, but expecting it doesn’t mean that she can stop herself from ending up on her ass. Less of the Great Hall erupts into laughter than she would expect, apparently enough of the older kids taking pity on a first-year being targeted on the first day that there’s only muted tittering and chuckling. Still, the Slytherin table erupts into raucous laughter, Carol wearing a smug look as she watches Nancy pick herself up off the floor, dusting the front of her robes off as if this means nothing. She knows she’s an easy target — she’s short for her age and remarkably birdlike with her thin limbs and dainty features. She looks for all the world like she would never put up a fight, and she can’t now, she reminds herself as she slips onto the end of the bench at the table, keeping her head ducked low even as righteous anger swells in her chest, making her cheeks erupt with red flush.

She feels a little embarrassed by just how much it matters to her. It’s just a house, she keeps reminding herself, trying to think of how she would feel if Mike or Barb had been the one placed in Slytherin. She would look at them the same, she wants to think, but the comparison doesn’t really help when Barb bleeds Ravenclaw blue and Mike, even at nine, is a clear Gryffindor.

Her family’s owl swoops in amongst the other deliveries a few days later and Nancy tries to ignore the way that her whole body goes cold at the sight. Perrie, getting old and dishevelled these days, drops the letter onto her plate before flapping away, prim and snobbish even as the other Slytherin first years snicker pointedly. “Oi, Wheeler, are you sure that your family can’t afford a new owl?” Tommy calls, false concern lacing his words like poison. “Or has your family standing lessened, even for a Gryffindor line?”

“Maybe you should worry about your own family’s expectations,” Nancy retorts, letting her anger turn cold in her chest. Hot fury never serves her well, and she knows it’s better to keep control in front of all these eyes. “Or does your potioneering father not expect you to take over the family business? Your dismal grades might be of interest to him.”

Tommy Hagan colours, turning back to his food with a scarlet blush colouring his cheeks. The Slytherins sat between them break into amused titters, the sniping and barbed words a familiar house tradition and not something that breaks the rules that ensure a united Slytherin front. Besides, Nancy is a reject in this place. No house loyalty protects that, she understands, not with Wheeler pinned to her first name and Slytherin tacked on like a cursed title. Not enough for either camp, it seems, as she rips her letter open with her unused knife, wishing that she couldn’t tell how strained her mother’s words are even through the swoops and loops of her familiar handwriting.

I hope that you are okay, Nancy. Please let us know if you need anything. I’m sure Professor Hawthorne will be just as good of a Head of House as Hopper. Stay warm in those dungeons and keep your head up.

All of our love,

Mum.

That’s it. She’s not sure if she expected more or less. Then again, it’s not like Nancy had written them of the news. She’s not even sure how they heard, though it was likely one of the professors or a family friend in the castle. She probably shouldn’t be as hurt by it as she is. On one hand, there’s none of the overt disappointment that she might have expected — after all, Gryffindors are notoriously proud and it must sting a little for them to know that she’s nothing like them, or the rest of their family. That she’s going to be a black sheep for the rest of her life. On the other hand, however, it’s a short message and not exactly overly comforting. Nancy sighs as she crumples the parchment up, stuffing it into the pockets of her robe and adjusting her tie as she swallows past the lump in her throat. She raises her chin as she realises that Tommy and Carol are still watching her, making a silent vow to herself not to show any more weakness.

Barb meets her eyes across the hall, wincing in sympathy when she sees the cold expression Nancy has slid across her face. Later, in their first Transfiguration lesson of the year, Barb turns around in her chair in front of her to whisper in a low voice, “Nancy, are you okay?”

Both of their partners give them strange looks as Nancy flushes. “It’s fine, Barb. Don’t worry about it. We can catch up about it later.” Barb makes to protest until Nancy nods her head towards the front of the room as Professor Hawthorne calls the class to attention once more. Barb doesn’t have time to say anything else, and Nancy feels relieved for it before guilt rushes in, turning over sickeningly in her gut. She shouldn’t be shutting out her best friend, not when she doesn’t have anyone else to turn to, but she can’t help it. Barb has only ever known her one way and, even though she doesn’t seem to recognise the change, Nancy doesn’t know the girl that she had seen in the mirror when she was getting ready, green trimmed robes hanging loosely off of her shrew-like frame.

Cassie looks at her a little curiously from her seat next to her. She doesn't know much about the other girl, but the Chans are a reasonably well-known family. Similar enough to the Wheelers, but always a little closer to Dark families than hers. Nancy can’t help but feel like she’s being taunted, like the universe has placed a mirror before her and is laughing at the joke that she’s lost the punchline for. She swallows hard and ducks her head.

“I think your wand motion is wrong,” Nancy murmurs instead. Despite extensive notes on Cassie’s parchment, the other girl’s hands stained with ink, her match still lies unchanged on her desk. Cassie looks at her, something short of an accusation in her eyes, less heat to it than Nancy would expect. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe Nancy is being unfair. “Just-” she cuts herself off as she feels her cheeks burn. She curls in on herself a little more, almost as small under Cassie’s steady gaze as she felt under the weight of the Sorting Hat. “You need to flick your wrist more.”

Silence hangs for a beat before Cassie’s match is replaced with a shiny, sharp needle. The other girl huffs a laugh, half-amused and half-frustrated. There’s that Slytherin ambition, Nancy figures. Not happy to be told what to do by anyone else. Especially by the person already inhabiting the lowest position on the house totem pole. The other girl doesn’t send her a glare or anything. She doesn’t even mutter a biting word. Cassie just sighs, giving Nancy another even stare. “Thanks,” she says eventually. Nancy nods, her blush stretching to the tips of her ears now. Barb sends her a curious glance when they file out of the classroom, but she dodges it easily, losing herself in the crowd of students making it to their next lesson.

Cassie slips into the seat next to her in Charms and Nancy gives her a solid nod. She’s not sure why it feels easier than talking to Barb, the girl she’s known her whole life. Cassie returns the gesture, a glint of something in her eyes right before she looks away. Nancy tries not to feel the burn of frustration at the distinct feeling that everyone seems to be in the know about her own secrets before she is.

She avoids Robin too.

Nancy’s not entirely sure why. Barb had looked at her differently after the Sorting. It hadn’t been accusatory or angry, but there had been a gleam of curiosity. A desire to understand. Nancy can’t take that right now, for reasons she’s not quite sure of. Robin, though, never looks at her, even now, with anything but friendliness. She can’t take that either, for entirely different reasons that she also doesn’t understand. It’s frustrating. Nancy knows that they’re curious. She’s just not sure how to tell them that she understands it all less than they do.

She spots Robin around the castle, though. For all her shy and bumbling awkwardness, the other girl is hard to miss. She carefully avoids her gaze in their shared classes and pretends that it doesn’t hurt when Robin stops trying to make eye contact.

Cassie scoffs next to her.

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to get your head out of your ass, Wheeler?”

“Huh?” Nancy manages, flinching as she’s broken out of her train of thought. Cassie’s gaze doesn’t falter, though, the other girl’s dark eyes impossible to read. “What are you talking about?”

Cassie sighs, mumbling something under her breath about Nancy being an idiot, but she doesn’t elaborate on her point, nor does she say anything else to Nancy before she flounces off to get their potion ingredients, leaving Nancy alone at their station and feeling rather like an idiot, though she’s not sure why.

Robin finally catches her eye across the room, raised eyebrow so familiar despite the fact that they only spent one afternoon together. Nancy isn’t sure why her chest feels so warm even as her mouth floods with bitterness. She swallows firmly, telling herself that she’s really being an idiot now. Robin breaks out into a smile, warm and friendly and the same as it was before. Nancy’s returning it before she’s really thought about it, and the other girl's blinding grin in response is too much to make her regret it.

————

Nancy doesn’t go home for Christmas. She supposes that’s the real mark of her not being a Gryffindor — she’s far too much of a coward to face her family. She thinks of Mike’s eyes when he used to look at her, half admiring, like when they were younger, half exasperated as he grows up. She’s not sure she can take seeing that change. So, she chickens out, signing up instead to hang around the draughty castle for Christmas. She waves Barb off at the platform, pretending that the way that they carefully don’t mention their usual Christmas schedule doesn’t hurt. In all the years before, they had spent New Year’s Eve together, hiding out in some other part of the house whilst their families socialised with other wizarding stock.

Barb gives her a tight smile and a loose hug. “Take care of yourself, Nancy.” She doesn’t press or push, and Nancy is flooded with gratitude for her best friend. She buries her head in Barb’s shoulder, glad that the other girl can’t see her face as she mumbles a response through a mouthful of hair and robes.

“You too, Barb.”

Neither of them say anything, an island of stillness in the hustle and bustle of the platform before Barb pulls away to board the train, sending Nancy one last smile over her shoulder. And then she is gone, leaving Nancy small and alone in the crush of students that passes as quickly as it comes, until there are only a few stragglers left, other kids saying bye to their friends. Nancy pulls her cloak tight around herself, drowning slightly in the fabric, before turning and climbing back up to the castle. The dungeons, when she reaches them, aren’t any warmer than the snowy grounds outside, and Nancy does her best to not think about the metaphor there.

Not many people stay around the castle for Christmas, only people burying themselves in books for exam revision or kids with nowhere else to go. Nancy keeps the distinction between her and them rigid in her head, reminding herself that this was her choice. Her parents hadn’t exactly fought her on it, but she was welcome home, house be damned. Barb had seemed a little reluctant to leave, but Nancy knows she was less than subtle in her relief when her friend had finally settled on going home. She just hopes that Barb isn’t too insulted by it. It means that Nancy is left all by herself, secluding herself in the library to keep herself busy and entertained. She doesn’t mind the reputation of being a swot. It gives people a target, sure, but one that hurts a lot less than the alternative.

Besides, Slytherin is all about a united front. The rest of the school hates them on principle — they wouldn’t do anything in public to get in the way of someone getting them points the way that Nancy is. All the bullying happens behind closed doors: outside of that, she’s just isolated.

Slytherin is the emptiest house by far. Most of them have families expecting them home for appearance reasons at the very least. There’s some relief in the solitude. Nancy can go about her life in the castle without being bothered. The biting ache of loneliness feels a small price to pay, especially when she shoves it aside. Nancy is doing fine.

At least until she spots Robin at mealtime.

She hadn’t noticed the other girl until now, assuming that she had gone home to her Muggle family. There’s not much she can say in protest, though, when Robin catches her eye across the room, raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement before gesturing, somewhat obviously, to the empty bench in front of her. Nancy dithers, desperately thinking of a way to get out of it, but comes up empty and picks her dinner plate up with a sigh.

“Hey, Wheeler. Long time, no see,” Robin says brightly, like Nancy hasn’t been purposefully avoiding her. Maybe she hasn’t even realised she’s been doing so. Maybe she thinks so well of everyone around her that she hadn’t noticed. But then Robin raises an eyebrow knowingly, hiding her smirk behind a bite of sausage, and Nancy’s cheeks ignite in shame.

“Yeah,” she mumbles out, doing anything but looking at Robin’s face.

The other girl laughs. “It’s fine, Nancy. Chill out.”

Nancy grimaces. “Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?”

She realises that might have been a tactless thing to resort to when Robin’s face falls, the amusement sliding out of her expression quickly. She covers it up with another forkful of food, hiding behind her goblet as she swallows quickly. “My family sent a letter. Said it would be better for me to stay.”

“Right,” Nancy nods, clearing her throat. She thinks of the crumpled letters in her bedside drawer, filled with her mother’s handwriting and one with her brother’s, all asking her, in increasingly more obvious ways, why Nancy isn’t coming home for Christmas. “I’m sorry,” she offers, because Robin looks upset and that feels like the thing to do.

The other girl shrugs. She’s back to the hole-ridden jumpers and rumpled-collar shirts, but it suits her still. “It’s fine,” Robin says, waving her fork dismissively but Nancy doesn’t quite buy it. They eat in silence for a while, something about it companionable and lighter than Nancy would have expected, before Robin finally speaks again.

“So, why have you been acting so weird all year?” Robin asks, blunt and to the point and unexpected enough to have Nancy choking on her sip of pumpkin juice. The other girl looks at her, amusement dancing in her eyes as she recovers, and Nancy can’t help but think that she’s happy to see her suffer a little.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nancy tries, raising her chin primly, but it’s a weak defence and they both know it. Robin looks at her, incredulous and unmoved and Nancy wilts. “I don’t know, Robin,” she eventually sighs, looking down at her plate as if she’ll find escape in her mashed potatoes and gravy. “Things are just weird.”

It feels cheap when Robin is the one having to settle into a completely new world and culture, but the girl just nods, looking at her curiously as she lets Nancy push the subject aside. “Alright,” she relents, but something about her eyes feel like they penetrate all the way to Nancy’s soul, reading the truth of her cowardice in her bones.

Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? That Nancy is a coward? She must be, if she not only isn’t enough to be a Gryffindor but also isn’t even able to face her shortcomings? She thinks of all the nasty things people have whispered about Slytherins, be it in the halls or in her own family. Nancy feels stuck. She isn’t a true Slytherin, she can’t be, but if this has shown her anything it is that she isn’t a Gryffindor when it comes down to it.

Nancy swallows hard, her food suddenly bitter and tasting like ash.

Robin looks up at her, gives her an easy smile. “It’s fine, Nancy,” she repeats. Something about the way she says it makes Nancy believe her, but now it’s guilt that floods through her. “We’re all good.”

“Yeah?” Nancy checks, suddenly desperate for things to be alright between them. She’s not even sure if they’re friends, or if they ever were. They’d only met on the train and since the Sorting, Nancy has avoided just about everyone. But Robin shrugs mildly, like it’s nothing.

“Sure. As long as you help me understand some of the Transfiguration stuff that Hawthorne has been talking about. I genuinely have no clue what he’s talking about.”

Nancy laughs, flushing at the way that Robin grins at the sound. “I think I can manage that,” she concedes, though it feels like more of a boon for Nancy than anything else.

“Thank Merlin,” Robin sighs, wiping her forehead in exaggerated relief. Nancy can’t help but laugh, hiding it behind her goblet as best she can. “What can I do in exchange? The only subject I’ve proved any good at so far is Astronomy, for some reason.”

Nancy twists her mouth, half-smile half-grimace. “It’s okay. Besides, this is me making it up to you, so no exchange is needed.”

“Well, good, because I’m also not that great at Astronomy,” Robin admits, scrunching up her nose whilst Nancy laughs.

“Come on, Robin, you have to be exaggerating now.”

She shrugs. “I mean, I’m doing fine, but I’m no Nancy Wheeler.”

Nancy flushes. “What are you talking about?”

Robin scoffs good-humouredly, raising her eyebrows incredulously. “Come on, Nancy, we all know who the top of our year is. I bet you could give most of the second years a run for their money too.”

“Not quite,” Nancy protests, but Robin bats it away easily.

She leans forward, eyes crinkled by the force of her teasing grin. “You should hear the way that Wallace talks about you. I think she wishes you were a Ravenclaw.”

Nancy flushes. Professor Wallace, the old woman in charge of Ravenclaw and Herbology, had made no attempt to hide this fact, given how doggedly Nancy already pursues her studies. It kind of stings in the sense that Nancy wishes it too, any alternative to Slytherin being preferable, but she swallows past the burn in her throat. “I just like to learn,” she says, the tips of her ears burning. She digs her thumbnail into the wood of the Hufflepuff table, mouth twisting as Robin laughs, loud and carefree and joyful. She does the same when the castle is full, though the sound echoes now, with how empty the Hall is. Nancy watches, a little jealous. Robin never seems to be anything less than herself. Nancy thinks she only knows how to make herself less than she is.

“Alright. I suppose it’s helping me, so I’ll shut up.”

Nancy lifts her head sharply to protest, but Robin’s grin makes her stop short. She’s teasing her, she realises, and blushes further. “Come on, Buckley. You gotta go to the library if you want to catch up.”

Robin raises her eyebrow as she swings her legs over the bench, Nancy following. “I’m going to regret asking for your help, aren’t I?”

“Never,” Nancy vows, but she sends Robin a smirk that makes the other girl groan. “I’m the nicest tutor you’ll ever meet.”

Robin keeps her protests to a low mumble, rubbing at the back of her neck as they traipse down the hall. There’s a couple of hours before curfew, and Nancy figures that they can at least get a head start on figuring out what Robin doesn’t understand. “Are you sure that you don’t mind?” Robin checks, voice a whisper, as they walk into the stacks of the library.

Nancy sends her an incredulous look. “Are you going to try and get out of this the whole time?”

“I’m not trying to get out of it,” Robin protests, colour dusting her cheekbones along with her freckles. “I just don’t want to make you put up with me if you don’t want to.”

Guilt blooms in Nancy’s chest. “I’m not ‘putting up’ with you, Robin,” she mumbles, barely able to look the taller girl in the eye. “I know I’ve been avoiding you, but that’s a ‘me’ problem.”

Robin hums, a noise that she can’t determine as doubting or agreeing, and they’re already by the books before she can probe further. “Come on, this is your kingdom, Wheeler,” Robin laughs softly, easily turning the subject around. “Enlighten me.”

Nancy huffs a laugh, crossing her arms. “What don’t you understand, first of all? Can’t start anywhere if I don’t know what you’re struggling with.” Robin flushes, looking a little unsure all of a sudden. Nancy softens. “It’s alright, Robin, it’s not like you’ve studied Transfiguration before this. Besides, I think half of Slytherin doesn’t understand it either, and they don’t have the muggleborn defence.”

Robin shrugs. “It’s just the basic laws. They don’t make sense to me.”

“Well, you can’t call them basic,” Nancy jokes, nudging Robin easily, hoping that she can get the other girl feeling more at ease. “I think my notes for those lectures are an illegible mess.”

The taller girl’s face cracks into a wide smile despite her embarrassment. “You're not alone there.”

They end up settling at one of the tables in the back of the library, peaceful even during term time and practically abandoned now with the exception of a few lingering students in exam years, who cast them dirty looks every time they get a little too loud. “Alright,” Nancy starts, dropping her Transfiguration textbook on the table with a great thump, grinning when Robin winces at the sight. “Firstly, the fundamentals. The transformation formula, which is that the intended transformation is directly influenced by bodyweight, viciousness, wand power and concentration. You can’t lose focus, even for a second. Transfiguration is difficult.”

“No kidding,” Robin snarks under her breath, already shifting restlessly in her seat.

Nancy gives her a scathing look, and the other girl holds her hands up in surrender. “Come on, Rob.” The nickname falls from her lips easily, like instinct. Nancy feels her ears burn, the tips surely turning bright scarlet, but Robin doesn’t seem to catch the endearment. She sighs instead, leaning back in her seat.

“Alright. So, what, I’m not concentrating enough?”

Nancy shrugs, her mouth twisting. “I mean, concentrating isn’t just focusing on the task. You need to clear your mind of everything except what you’re trying to transfigure, and think about changing the weight and the shape and the nature of the object. You have to visualise the transformation.”

Robin nods, screwing her nose up in distaste. “Have you got a match?” She shoots Nancy a look of thanks when she promptly pulls one out of her bag. A match to needle transfiguration is the first one that they had been taught in class. Most of them had needed to practise after class to get it smooth, and, even though she had managed it in Hawthorne’s class to start with, Nancy had taken one anyway.

“You’ve got this,” Nancy encourages.

Robin sighs, closing her eyes as she tries to focus. It gives Nancy a moment to look over her unwatched. Clearly, scrunching up her features is a habit of hers, as her brow is furrowed enough to make a divot right between her eyebrows. She forces down a laugh at the sight. Eventually, Robin opens her eyes and mutters the spell beneath her breath, tapping the tip of her wand to the match. It doesn’t change much, but it gets notably thinner and more silvery. Robin gasps, holding it up with a grin.

“Nancy!”

“Amazing, Robin,” Nancy laughs, endeared by the excitement. “Definitely better. Could you get it like that before?”

Robin scoffs, shaking her head. It makes her shaggy hair shake in a way that has something in Nancy’s stomach clenching, though she’s not sure why. “Not a chance, Wheeler. I don’t know how you managed this, but you’re magic.”

Nancy stifles a laugh, gesturing at the library around them as well as both of their wands. “That’s the point, Robin.”

“Ha, ha,” Robin deadpans, flat and droll. “You know what I mean.”

She softens. “Yeah, but it’s all you, Robin. Remember the tips and try again.”

Robin grimaces but obliges. “You’re a monster.”

Despite her protests, the evening passes easily, Robin’s transfiguration getting better with any attempt until the match has turned into a slightly-dull needle. Eventually, it gets close enough to curfew that they have to abandon the project, but Robin bounces out of the library, full of energy and optimism at her progress. “Can we study more this break?”

Nancy nods, pretending that warmth isn’t flooding through her chest. “No one has ever been this excited to study, Robin, but sure.”

The other girl shrugs, shameless and not at all chastised. “It’s magic school, Nancy. I think I’m allowed to find it cool that I just turned a match into a needle.”

“Fair enough,” she laughs. They come to the hallway where they have to part, Robin heading towards the kitchens whilst Nancy has to traipse downstairs to the dungeons. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” She checks, suddenly apprehensive that Robin, despite wanting to study more, wouldn’t want to see her in any other context. The taller girl just nods enthusiastically though, something remarkably puppy-like about it between her wide eyes and shaggy hair.

“Definitely.”

Nancy grins as she watches Robin bound away, the expression turning into more of a soft smile to herself as she makes her way to the dungeons. She’s glad that none of her dorm-mates have stayed for Christmas break as she gets ready for bed, hardly able to keep the hope of things changing at bay.

————

The Christmas holidays pass easily, in companionable peace with Robin. They spend afternoons in the library, at least until Robin gets too fed up and drags Nancy out into the winter sun, sparkling off of the snow and frost lining the grounds. It looks like something out of a fairytale, between the massive Christmas tree in the Great Hall and the dusting of snow falling over the castle. As January dawns, cold and pale, the rest of the students return to Hogwarts, piling out of the Express in their droves. Nancy sits in an armchair in the Slytherin common room, tuning it all out until one of the upper years taps her on the shoulder with an even look and she gets the message, sighing and packing up her books to trudge back up the stairs to her dormitory.

Cassie gives her a nod, Joanna and Lucy ignoring her completely whilst they crow proudly of their Christmases.

“And how was the castle, Wheeler?” Joanna eventually asks, layers of sarcasm and condescension dripping from the words. Nancy looks up, giving her a blank stare as she shrugs.

“Peaceful, considering the fact that you weren’t here,” she says mildly, though she feels satisfaction bloom in her chest at the way that fiery embarrassment spreads over Joanna’s cheeks. Cassie sends her a warning look, though Nancy knows she isn’t imagining the way that the edges of her lips quirk up in amusement.

“Eat shit, Wheeler,” Lucy sneers.

She sends the other girl a long look, raising her chin primly. Like the smug Slytherin she was supposed to be. “Poetic, Lucy. Truly, you’re a wordsmith.”

Both of her dormmates turn bright red, and a little bit of pride flowers in Nancy as she gets ready for bed, pulling the curtains tight around her.

The next morning, she catches Robin’s eye across the Great Hall at breakfast, half expecting the other girl to ignore her now that she has her housemates back, but she meets Nancy’s gaze with a wide smile, dropping a wink in her direction shamelessly. Nancy turns back to her toast, desperate to hide the alarming shade of red she is sure that she’s turned.

In Transfiguration, Barb turns around, ignoring the squawk of protest from her partner. “So, Nance, how was your Christmas?”

Nancy wants to blanch at the boldness of it, but she relents, easing into a soft laugh quickly enough. “It actually wasn’t that bad. How was the New Years Party? Boring without me?”

Barb screws up her nose. “Obviously. Your brother is still a little brat.”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I think that was half the reason I stayed.” Neither of them comment on why else Nancy had chosen not to go home. Barb’s lips twist upwards into an uncertain smile.

“So, do you want to meet later for some chess?”

Wizarding Chess had been their favourite thing to play together back before Hogwarts. Maybe Nancy should have realised her ruthlessness meant something before the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. Nancy nods, pretending that her ears aren’t tipped with warmth as Barb beams, pushing her glasses upwards on her nose. “Prepare to lose, though.”

Barb scoffs. “Hardly. You’re going down, Wheeler.”

“I’ll give you five Galleons if you beat her,” Cassie chimes in, a serious look levelled at Barb. Both of them turn to look at the other girl, surprised by her joining in the conversation even as Nancy pouts, betrayed. “I’m the only person she hasn’t lost to and she keeps claiming I’m cheating.”

Barb grins. “To her credit, she always used to beat me when we were younger.”

“Damn,” Cassie curses, scowling to herself. She turns to Nancy with a grim look. “Has anyone beaten you?”

“Just you,” Nancy confirms with a wry smile. “Though I’m not sure why you seem so upset by that.”

Cassie leans back in her chair, head tipped up to the ceiling, grimace pulling at her face. “Because now I can’t slip up or you’ll get an even bigger head.”

“My head is a perfectly normal size,” Nancy informs the other girl primly even as Barb tries to muffle her snickers, avoiding Hawthorne’s warning look. Cassie snorts under her breath, sending her an incredulous look, and Nancy has to fight to keep the smile off her face.

That evening, in the Great Hall, Cassie watches with detached dismay as Barb gets thoroughly trounced by Nancy. “So, does that mean that you owe me five Galleons?” Nancy asks Cassie with a wide grin, barely flinching anymore at the dark look that she receives in response.

“I don’t believe that was in the parametres of the bet, Wheeler,” Cassie bites back. “Clarify next time.” Her entertainment over, Cassie rises from the bench, brushing down her robes and turning to walk away without another word.

Barb watches her go with a confused smile. “Your friend is weird, Nance.”

“I don’t know if we are friends, per se,” Nancy protests softly, though she’s smiling at Cassie’s turned back. Barb raises an eyebrow in question. “There aren’t many girls in Slytherin this year. She’s nicer than Joanna and Lucy.”

“I am not sure if I would call her nice,” Barb retorts, Nancy tilting her head in acknowledgement.

“Alright, less overtly mean,” she settles with a shrug. Maybe they are friends. Maybe this is as close to friendly as Cassie gets, Nancy thinks to herself. It’s not like she’s close with Joanna and Lucy, nor anyone else in their year that Nancy has noticed. But none of it seems to bother Cassie, who goes about her life like most of the goings on of others is entirely beneath her. She’s not sure if it’s even an act. “Yeah, she’s a bit hard to pin down,” Nancy muses, more to herself than anything else.

Barb smiles, more a quirk of her lips than anything. “Rematch? I’d love to get those five Galleons if the offer stands for longer than a single match.”

“You don’t stand a chance, Holland. You’ve gotten rusty.”

“Wonder why,” she bites back, but it’s more teasing than pointed and she lets Nancy leave it be with no more than flushed cheeks and averted gaze. Nancy wonders to herself if she will be paying for her distance for the rest of her life. Judging from the mischievous look of Barb’s face, she thinks that might be the case, but she can’t make herself feel anything but warm relief at the thought.

————

Between Robin, Cassie and Barb, a strange rotating list of friends that are careful not to mix, Nancy feels safe enough that she stops watching her back so much. It turns out to be a mistake when she wakes up one morning to find that all of her uniform had been hit with a Colour-Changing Charm to make it look like the Gryffindor colours. She tries to spell it back, but whoever had done it has also added layers of protective magic to make sure that it couldn’t be turned back, likely for a day or so.

Nancy tries to take a deep breath, telling herself not to panic as she searches for any piece of uniform that might have escaped the attack. She comes up empty and sighs to herself, resigning herself to her fate. Snickers erupt throughout the house when she traipses into the Great Hall, her uniform almost identical to the real Gryffindor ones. It doesn’t take long for the other houses to notice as well, the Gryffindors especially taking joy in the sight of Nancy being humiliated.

“Since you’re so desperate to be a lion,” Carol informs her, almost explicitly taking responsibility for the prank. Nancy glowers, hot humiliation spreading across her face, but there’s nothing she can do in a place as public as the Great Hall, so she just settles for taking a seat at the edge of the Slytherin house bench, keeping her head ducked low.

“We don’t want her either!” One of the second years in Gryffindor calls across the hall, a fresh wave of laughter erupting. Nancy balls her hands into fists beneath the table, taking as many calming breaths as she can. She rushes her breakfast, forcing bone dry toast down her throat as quickly as she can, grateful to escape the Hall.

She sits at the back of all her lessons, hoping that if she keeps her robes pulled tight around her frame, her incorrect uniform might escape the professors’ notice. The tactic fails, though, most of them giving her a sympathetic look as they dock points anyway, Nancy’s humiliation mounting as the day continues. Barb tries her best to remove the charm but fails, spelling her own tie green and silver to exchange with Nancy’s false Gryffindor one, but she refuses the offer.

“I don’t want you to lose points too. It’s fine. I’m sure it will wear off in a day or two.”

Barb gives her a doubtful look, but Nancy refuses to look weak enough to accept kindness from another house. It would just solidify her as a traitor amongst Slytherin’s ranks. Better to suffer the embarrasment with her head high and hope that it earns her some respect for not crumbling in public.

“You can borrow some of my uniform if you want,” Cassie offers the next morning, carefully waiting for Joanna and Lucy to head to breakfast beforehand.

Nancy gives her a sharp look. “You’d just end up targeted as well. Thank you, though. Better not to associate yourself too much with me.”

Cassie snorts. “It’s stupid, though,” she protests, but she doesn’t push any further for Nancy to accept her offer. “No one chooses their house.”

She shrugs. “Guess you can tell we aren’t in Ravenclaw with the logic some of our housemates utilise.”

“You’d think the cunning house would be a bit sharper,” Cassie grins, a viscous thing that carves its way across her features, even at eleven. “They’re just losing their own points.”

Nancy laughs, shrugging as she knots her red and gold tie neatly. “Do you think it’s fading a little?” The other girl peers at it carefully, doubt blooming across her face as she gives Nancy an awkward look, stifling a laugh when Nancy sighs, nodding gloomily. “Guess that’s enough of an answer,” she mutters, Cassie wincing in sympathy.

In the end it only takes till the end of the second day for the charm to fail, but the damage is done both to her reputation and Slytherin’s standing in the competition for the House Cup. She’s not quite sure how she ends up blamed when she wasn’t the one who decided to dress up as a Gryffindor for half the week, but protesting doesn’t make a difference.

She grimaces at the dirty looks thrown in her direction, Cassie giving her a cool look. “You should have accepted my damn spares,” she mutters in her direction, raising an eyebrow when Nancy shrugs. “I think you just earned more enemies.”

“Probably, but I’ll earn the points back.”

It’s not arrogant when it’s true, but Cassie raises her eyebrows incredulously anyway. “I suppose so, but they’ll just call you a know-it-all.”

Nancy huffs, nodding. “There’s no winning,” she agrees.

Cassie laughs. “We’ll figure something out,” she assures her, pushing her out of the Great Hall and towards their Transfiguration classroom for the first lesson of the day. Nancy grins. Even if most of her house hates her, at least she has one ally, she reminds herself. She hadn’t expected a Chan to be so firmly on her side, but she can’t deny that Cassie has been kinder than most and more helpful than she would have expected.

She pays her back by playing wizard’s chess with her, long having resigned herself to the fact that she’ll never beat Cassie.

“You know I’m usually good at this,” Nancy huffs, resetting the pieces again. Cassie grins victoriously. They’re cross-legged on Nancy’s bed, the dust of the destroyed pieces covering her duvet until the set comes back together again, ready for the next match.

“Guess you’ve met your match in me.” Nancy grumbles to herself, only making Cassie grin wider. “Come on, Wheeler, keep your spirits up. You’re beating me in every class, just let me have this.”

“I’m not letting you have anything,” Nancy retorts, but she’s smiling and it’s fair enough, in all honesty. Cassie cackles, a surprisingly carefree sound from the normally restrained girl, and Nancy sighs as she settles in for another defeat.

————

“Have any of you heard of Lord Vecna?”

The question makes the entirety of Professor Brenner’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class fall silent. Aside from the muggleborns, Nancy is sure they all know exactly who he is referring to, though no one raises their hand. He tuts a little, as though in disappointment, before continuing.

“Lord Vecna is the darkest wizard of our time. He disappeared just under a decade ago. Some claimed he was killed and others believe he just has been driven into hiding. Can anyone tell me why?”

This time, Nancy braves raising her hand, several of her classmates tittering and rolling their eyes at the familiar sight. Brenner calls on her all the same.

“Because he tried to kill Jane Ives, sir, the last surviving member of the pureblood Ives clan, who is the only known person to survive the killing curse.”

Professor Brenner nods. “Five points to Slytherin for a very complete answer, Miss Wheeler.”

A couple of students snicker and laugh to themselves, and Nancy feels a familiar heat of frustration and humiliation spread through her chest. “Swallow a textbook, Wheeler?” One of the Gryffindors behind her taunts, voice low so that no one else can hear him. Cassie gives her an impassive look as Nancy straightens, ignoring the boy behind her as best she can.

“And what about Jane Ives?” He presses further, looking over the room. “What happened to her after that night that she cheated death.

Again, the room is silent until one of the Gryffindors breaks, raising his hand. “She disappeared, sir.”

Brenner hums in consideration. “More or less, yes. She was hidden, far away from where Vecna’s remaining supporters might find her. The question, of course, is what happens when she inevitably resurfaces.”

“Sir?” A Gryffindor girl near the front braves asking, her head tilted. “What do you mean?”

Professor Brenner’s mouth twists as he regards her. “Well, depending on what people say, Vecna is either destroyed or in hiding. If he is in hiding, still surrounded by his followers, it is likely that the child will be hunted upon her finding. If he is truly dead, then it is still possible that the supporters of such a dark wizard will seek to take revenge in the name of their Lord.”

Nancy feels a cold wash of horror come over her. He is talking about a child, a defenceless girl not even old enough to come to Hogwarts yet. Jane Ives is her brother’s age. She had been too young to remember Lord Vecna’s rise and his failure to kill the other girl, but she has overheard conversations between her parents. She knows that most people believe he is truly gone, but Professor Brenner’s lecture makes it clear that the danger to the girl will always follow her, regardless.

The rest of the lesson passes soberly, the whole class caught in the tension that their professor had cast over the room. She almost has a heart attack when he catches her eye right at the end of the lesson. “Miss Wheeler,” he calls, gesturing for her to stay as the rest of the class files out of the room. Cassie gives her a curious look, one that Nancy can only meet with a confused shrug before the other girl is gone.

“Sir?” She asks, keeping her eyes low and her voice quiet. Brenner scares her, just a little, and she would be more ashamed of that if she wasn’t sure that she’s not the only one. Brenner raises an eyebrow at her meekness, sighing like he’s disappointed.

“Sit down, Wheeler,” he gestures at the desk right in front of his own. Nancy slides into the seat, fidgeting as she tries to fight the panic rising in her chest.

She clears her throat as she frowns. “Is something wrong, sir?”

Brenner doesn’t react except for a small twisting of his mouth, an amused tilt to it. “You tell me, Miss Wheeler. You seem to be struggling to settle in here at Hogwarts.”

She flushes, embarrassment making a scarlet blush spread over her features. Nancy remembers the Colour-Change prank and feels that familiar anger and humiliation settle across her chest. “Everything’s fine, sir,” she grinds out, refusing to tattle.

Brenner hums in acknowledgement, clearly unconvinced. “Well, nevertheless, the rest of the staff and I see great potential in you, Miss Wheeler. You’re doing well in all of your classes so far.”

Nancy ducks her head further. The praise is nice, even if it feels a bit nicer. Brenner watches her, as is clear, but Hopper just winces everytime that he looks at her, looking a little like she’s someone that he wishes he could save, and Hawthorne, her head of house and Transfiguration teacher, has a reputation for letting Slytherins figure out most of their differences between themselves. “Thank you, Professor Brenner. I’m enjoying them.”

A rare smile graces his face. “I was wondering if you wanted to do some extra work for me, Miss Wheeler.”

“Sir?” She looks up sharply.

“A solid understanding of theory is vital for anyone who wishes to be an accomplished duellist or indeed capable of defending themselves and others.”

Nancy feels her expression crumple, deflating at the thought of not having performed well enough in Brenner’s class. “Is there something wrong with my theory work so far, sir?”

“Not at all, Miss Wheeler, but I believe you are capable of pushing past the bounds of the first year curriculum.”

Warmth spreads in Nancy’s chest at the idea. She knows why Brenner is proposing it: it’s more than just pushing a talented student. He’s already spelled out that it’s to help protect herself, to give herself an edge against students older and more experienced than herself in her house.

“I would appreciate the opportunity to expand my knowledge, sir,” she says carefully, a small smile pulling at her lips. Brenner matches it, pulling a couple of thin books out of his desk drawer and setting them on the desk before it. She doesn’t recognise the titles, and Professor Brenner laughs at her curious expression, a small noise that she barely catches.

“I know those aren’t strictly part of the curriculum, but I also know that those in a real fight will use whatever weapons they have in their arsenal. There are some hexes and curses of a darker nature in there, but I would focus on the defensive techniques contained in the texts if I were you. The best offence is a good defence at your level. As long as you can protect yourself, a disarming spell or stunning spell should be enough so you can remove yourself from the situation,” he advises, and Nancy has to duck her head to stop him from clocking how wide she smiles.

She straightens after a beat, settling into her usual ramrod straight posture, giving him a curt and bland smile.

“Thank you very much, Professor. I appreciate it. If you have any more recommendations for books, please let me know.” She gathers the books into her bag and slings it over her shoulder. He looks over her once more, nodding in satisfaction before dismissing her.

Next time that Carol bumps ‘accidentally’ into her in the hallway, the older girl finds herself suddenly and completely seized by an uncontrollable fit of laughter, one that makes her face turn almost blue until Tommy rushes her to the Hospital Wing. Brenner gives her a small smile next time she is in his class, placing another book subtly on her desk as he paces past, and Nancy grins to herself.

Maybe things are looking up at Hogwarts.

————

The rest of second term seems to fly by. She sees less of Robin then she did in the Christmas holiday, but Nancy tells herself that’s okay, even if something in her loosens in relief every time that Robin still turns up to their study sessions. The other girl’s handle of Transfiguration gets to the point that she doesn’t really need the help, but neither of them point that fact out.

Soon enough, the Easter break looms before them all and, though Nancy tries her level best, but she can’t find a way to get out of going home for the holidays, and so is subjected to a stuffy and tense break at home. Her mother gives her long looks every time she opens her mouth, as if warning her not to upset the delicate equilibrium. Nancy wants to scoff at it. She’s been aware of the tense truce in their house her whole childhood and is long since accustomed to manoeuvring around it. It’s not like a few months at school have erased that muscle memory. Besides, she’s sure it’s half the reason she’s able to navigate the snake pit that is her Hogwarts experience thus far without even more trouble than she already faces.

Mike gives her a funny look the second he sees her, at the breakfast table her first morning home. “I didn’t know you were coming back,” he remarks quietly, and she swears he’s grown since she left. He’s going to be taller than her soon, as Nancy is still a tiny birdlike eleven year old. Mike’s not much better, but he’s always had the kind of limbs a kid has to grow into. Nancy doesn’t really want to think about it.

She swallows the last of her toast, the food dry and scratchy on the way down. “Well, here I am,” she jokes, but it falls flat. Mike makes a face, screwing up his nose. “What, did you not miss me?”

“Yeah,” Mike says haltingly, though there’s still an honesty to it. He looks at her, a flash of guilt in his eyes. “Of course.”

Nancy nods, ignoring the way that she has to bite on the inside of her cheek, hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste coating her tongue centres her a little, and she only has to take one steadying breath before she opens her mouth again. “Want to go flying this afternoon? I’m sure Mum won’t mind.”

Mike brightens at that, and Nancy wonders just how lonely he’s been here on his own. When she asks later, the two of them traipsing out into the fields that serve as their back garden, he just shrugs. “I’ve been hanging out with Will a lot,” he offers, his smile brightening at the thought. Nancy nods. Will Byers is a nice kid. Shy and sweet. Definitely probably roped into more trouble than he deserves by hanging around Mike, but that’s Will’s problem as far as she’s concerned. Nancy ruffles Mike’s hari, overcome with a sudden affection for her little brother, even when he ducks out of the way with a grimace.

“Come on, I bet you’ve gotten out of practice,” she goads, and Mike gasps in offence when she races to kick off from the ground before he can.

“Not fair! You’ve been flying at Hogwarts!”

Nancy just laughs, his protests faint behind her as she closes her eyes, revelling in the familiar rush of wind in her hair and past her cheeks. Her face flushes, going red in the early spring air, but she loves it. Even at Hogwarts, where she’s still a Slytherin, she finds flying freeing. It doesn’t matter what house she is up here, it doesn't matter what her last name is. All that matters is if she can hang on, if she can control the broom, if she can go faster than anyone else. Nancy spends hours racing with Mike, her little brother’s laughter like music to her ears. Sure, he’s treating her a bit differently, but she had kind of expected that. At least they still have this.

Whatever optimism she had been feeling fades when they sit down for dinner that evening. It’s the first time that they’ve really been together since she left. Only her mum had come to pick her up from the station, and she finds herself avoiding her father’s gaze as they settle down for dinner. Not that he looks at her in the first place, Nancy thinks to herself bitterly. He doesn’t really look at any of them, focusing either on his food or on Holly, the only member of the family he seems to have any affection for anymore. Across the table, her little sister burbles and sends her a toothless smile and Nancy can’t help her grin. Holly is difficult to not love, she recognises in her father’s defence.

Stifling silence reigns as Nancy pushes her food around on her plate, ignoring her father’s sharp look, even if she does make sure that her posture is ramrod straight again.

“So,” her mum tries, false brightness dripping from her words, “how is Hogwarts, Nancy?”

“Fine,” she bites out, the one-word reply as clipped as she can make it. Her mum sighs and her father stiffens, but it’s Mike’s reaction that throws her. He gives her a long warning look, the kind that she used to pin him with when he couldn’t tell that he was pushing their dad to his last nerve. “It’s fine,” she repeats, a little softer now. “I’m top of all my classes.”

Her father hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t offer anything else. Nancy doesn’t expect it but it stings either way.

“That’s great, honey. And Hawthorne is looking out for you?”

She snorts at the mention of her head of house. Hawthorne probably wouldn’t notice if half of Slytherin went missing. “Yeah, sure,” she says instead, giving her a one-armed shrug.

“Nancy,” her mum starts to sigh. “What’s going on? Are you getting trouble at school?”

She shrugs again, eyes trained on her plate. “Slytherin isn’t happy to have a Wheeler in their midst, I guess,” Nancy confesses, stiffening further at the mocking snort that her father lets out.

“Yeah, and we’re overjoyed,” he bites out, and something in Nancy shatters.

“I didn’t ask for the Hat to put me in Slytherin,” she mutters under her breath, but it’s deafeningly loud in the strained silence. The clink of cutlery against plates stops as everyone seems to freeze. Her father looks at her, unspoken disappointment shining in his face and Nancy thinks she might choke on her own shame.

“That’s not really the point,” he says, slow and clear, like she’s an idiot. Like Nancy hasn’t known exactly how her family would feel the second that the Hat told her she wouldn’t fit in Gryffindor. Nancy gets up, pushing away from the table and ignoring the scrape of her chair against the floor, and walks away without another word.

Her father doesn’t look at her again for the whole Easter holiday. When she comes home for summer and he has gone on a mysterious, months-long business trip, Nancy just sighs and swallows her anger and her shame and her guilt and nods at her mother, who’s wringing hands make it clear that she knows exactly what’s going on. None of them say anything about the empty chair at the head of the table. Mike stops talking to her.

It’s almost a relief when summer ends once more.

Almost.