Chapter Text
October 16th, 1990
The Gryffindor common room was unusually sparse that Saturday afternoon. Most of the house had gone to Hogsmeade, the older students spilling out of the castle after lunch and vanishing down the road to the village. The usual bustle of the tower had drained away with them, leaving behind only a scattering of students who were too young to go. A few first and second-years occupied the rug near the fire but most were either quiet in their dorms or at the library. Most of the noise was coming instead from the cluster of armchairs near the centre of the room. Audrey Sullivan sat sideways on the arm of a sofa, one foot hooked over the cushion and the other dangling freely, animatedly describing a Quidditch manoeuvre to the small group gathered around her. The cushion had somehow become a stand-in for a Quaffle, and every few sentences she would toss it up, catch it again, and illustrate a dive or a feint with exaggerated enthusiasm. Her friends were equally invested in the discussion, though for slightly different reasons.
“You are absolutely going to panic the moment someone, or worse a Bludger, actually flies at you,” one of them said.
“I am not going to panic,” Audrey protested immediately. “I’ve been practising all month.”
“You almost flew into the stands last week.”
“That was because Fred Weasley nearly clipped my broom!”
Across from her, the girl who should have been in Hogsmeade sat cross-legged on the sofa with an expression somewhere between amusement and resignation. She had been the reason Audrey was still in the castle at all. Over the summer she had apparently done something sufficiently dreadful that her parents had refused to sign her Hogsmeade permission slip, leaving her stuck at Hogwarts for the day. Audrey had stayed behind with her out of solidarity. Not that she minded much. She had been to Hogsmeade before and remembered it well enough. It wasn’t exactly new territory.
“Anyway,” Audrey continued, tossing the cushion lightly and catching it again, “if they try to box me in near the hoops I’ll just drop under them and come back up behind. They won’t see it coming.”
“You sound very confident for someone who hasn’t actually played a match yet,” another girl pointed out.
“Yeah, I’m confident,” Audrey said firmly. “Got a problem with that?”
Percy Weasley had claimed one of the armchairs near the window nearly forty minutes earlier, expecting the common room to be quiet on a Hogsmeade afternoon. A neat stack of books sat beside him, parchment spread carefully across the small table, his quill moving steadily as he copied out notes. For the first few minutes he had attempted to ignore the noise. Then he had tried clearing his throat pointedly, which had produced absolutely no effect whatsoever. Another burst of laughter carried across the room. Percy’s quill stopped. He sat there for a moment longer, lips pressed into a thin line, before closing his book with a sharp, controlled snap.
The sound barely registered with the group by the sofas. Percy rose abruptly from his chair, straightened his robes, and strode across the common room with a distinctly sour expression. The conversation only faltered when his shadow fell across the circle of chairs.
“Could you all keep the noise down?” Percy said stiffly. “There are people in this room attempting to study.”
Several of the younger students blinked up at him. Percy folded his arms.
“And if you recall,” he continued with the air of someone invoking official authority, “the school guidelines on common room conduct clearly state that excessive noise which disrupts academic work is prohibited.”
One of Audrey’s friends squinted up at Percy, unimpressed.
“Who’s this supposed to be?” she said. “A prefect?”
“No way,” another girl said immediately. “If he were a prefect I’d have seen him before.”
Percy drew himself up. “I am not a prefect,” he said stiffly. “Not yet. However, I am your upperclassman, and I expect a reasonable level of—”
The group burst into laughter.
“Yet!” one of the boys repeated, pointing at him. “Did you hear that? ‘Not yet!’ he said!”
“Careful,” another girl said mockingly. “He might dock points from Gryffindor!”
More laughter followed. Audrey however wasn’t laughing. She had turned fully on the sofa arm now, watching Percy with open interest, a curious smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as if she’d just discovered something unexpectedly amusing. Percy frowned at the group.
“If the noise continues,” he said tightly, “I will be forced to fetch a teacher.”
That earned several groans and exaggerated eye-rolls.
“Oh, all right,” one of the girls muttered, pushing herself out of the armchair. “Come on.”
The others began standing as well.
“We’re going to the Great Hall,” another girl said, glancing back at Audrey. “You coming, Aud? We should probably let this git get back to his books.”
Audrey didn’t move. She was still watching Percy, that same grin lingering on her face.
“Yeah,” she said lightly. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
Once the others had drifted out of the common room, their voices fading toward the corridor, Percy returned to the small table by the window and reopened his book. He dipped his quill and resumed writing as if the interruption had never happened. For several seconds the room was quiet again. Then he heard a chair landing directly opposite him. Percy looked up.
Audrey had pulled the chair around and dropped into it backwards, leaning forward over the table as though she had every intention of staying there a while. Her elbows rested on the tabletop, fingers loosely interlaced beneath her chin. She bore the sort of smile that suggested she had just found a new form of entertainment. Percy felt an immediate, inexplicable sense of unease. She studied him for a moment longer, eyes bright with mischief.
“Are you a fourth-year?” she asked casually.
Percy shot her a sharp look, one eyebrow raised. “Yes. What of it?”
“I thought so,” she said. “So why aren’t you at Hogsmeade?”
Percy frowned, not feeling much like explaining himself to her.
Her smile sharpened, a glint of malice in her eyes. “Is it because you don’t have any friends to go with?” She shook her head in a mock-gloomy manner. “If you don’t mind me saying, that’s… rather sad, Mr. Prefect.”
Percy’s frown deepened, but his ears turned red. “That’s not why!” he said, his voice perceptively defensive. Why he was letting this stranger get to him, he couldn’t say. He straightened, bracing himself. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. I’ve taken all five available electives—there’s simply no time to indulge in such nonsense as dallying at Hogsmeade.”
She burst out laughing. “Five electives? You’re a riot! Who in their right mind would do that?”
Percy cleared his throat, straightening his posture, and said smugly. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’ll have you know I have certain ambitions, unlike some of you lot.”
Audrey leaned forward, tilting her head. “Like what?”
Percy blinked, caught off guard.
“Your ambitions,” she pressed, eyes narrowing playfully. “What are your ambitions?”
Percy’s ears flushed bright red and he looked away. “It’s… really none of your business,” he stammered.
Audrey’s gaze sharpened, fixed on him like a laser. “Hey,” she said, voice firm, “why are your eyes darting around the room? You’re supposed to look someone in the eyes when they’re talking to you. It’s not very polite, you know. Were you raised in a barn?”
Percy met her gaze then, though still red-faced and frowning. He drew a breath, straightened, and said as smoothly as he could manage, “If you must know, I intend to become—”
“Let me guess,” she interrupted with a grin, “Minister for Magic?”
Percy froze, eyes wide. She laughed again, bright and unapologetic. “You’re too predictable!”
Percy’s frown deepened, annoyance sharpening his tone. “Yes. So I’ve been told. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue working on my Herbology essay.”
“Since you’re asking so nicely, I do mind, yes,” she said. “I’d like to keep talking to you, actually. So what are you going to do about it? Indulge me, or remove me from my spot?” A small pause, then, sweetly, “You’re not going to use force, are you?”
Percy stiffened, hesitating before replying, “I… I might, if you leave me no choice.”
“My, my. If I didn’t know you better, I might think you’ve only come up with that convenient excuse to justify touching a girl, Mr. Prefect. Hardly your best work.”
She then gasped dramatically, clutching her chest with one hand and pointing at him with the other. “Auror! He’s there! He’s the one who tried to compromise my virtue! Straight to Azkaban!” Then, grinning mischievously, she stuck out her tongue. “Bet you’d love that, right? Not sure you’re strong enough to take me on, though. You look awfully weak, and I’m on the Quidditch team.”
Percy’s frown deepened, a flush creeping into his cheeks once more. He looked briefly as though he was trying to decide how to deny the accusation without making it sound worse. In the end, he latched onto the last thing she’d said instead, which seemed like safer territory. “Is that supposed to impress me?” he said, voice tight with irritation. “Three of my brothers are in the team, two of whom have started this year.”
Audrey’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The twins are your brothers? Couldn’t be any more different, could they?”
Percy huffed. “Hmph. Now don’t get me started on them,” he said importantly. “If only they would take a leaf out of their older brother’s book and not bend the rules quite so often, they might have far better prospects in life. Still… it’s not yet too late for them to learn to do things the right way I suppose.”
Audrey raised an eyebrow and leaned back, one leg crossed over the other. “You’re a rather smug bloke, has anyone ever told you that?” She tapped her chin lightly, eyes glinting. “Now I hope you realise that if you want to become Minister for Magic, good grades alone won’t cut it. You’ll need charm, and social skills. They won’t hand the wizarding world over to some strange, filthy-minded bookish boy who hides away while everyone else is at Hogsmeade.”
Percy’s jaw tightened. He’s had enough. He began gathering his books and parchment, carefully stacking them into his bag. “All the more reason,” he said, voice cool, “that I intend to serve as a Prefect, and Head Boy after that. That will permit me to learn any of the remaining skills I may lack. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get back to my essay. Good day.”
With that, he strode toward the portrait hole, leaving Audrey behind. She didn’t remain in the common room long after he left, however. She slipped down from her perch and made her way toward the Great Hall, her step light, almost buoyant, the trace of a smile still playing at her lips.
She found her friends already seated, halfway through their meal. Clarice Wright looked up the moment Audrey slid into place and immediately narrowed her eyes.
“So, Aud. We were all wondering… why’d you stay behind with that boy?”
“No reason,” Audrey said, far too quickly, reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice.
Clarice snorted. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you started picking on him.”
Audrey’s eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief. “Me? Really, Clarice? You think so little of me? What am I, some sort of bully?”
Clarice only shrugged, unimpressed. “Don’t give me that. You look like a cat that’s just found a very appetising mouse to play with before eating whole.”
“That’s a rather uncharitable way of putting it,” Audrey said. “But I suppose I can see how you got there.”
Clarice huffed, folding her arms. “So I’m right, then.”
“No! He’s just sort of an… interesting fellow,” Audrey replied lightly. “That’s all. Am I so awful for being intrigued? I sense in him great opportunity for future fun and entertainment. You of all people should know that I’m never wrong about such things. It’s like a sixth sense.”
“You know, with the way you always go on and on about that one Puddlemere Chaser,” Connor Ellison said lazily from across the table, “I figured you only fancied tough, rugged types. Well. I suppose stranger things have happened.” He glanced at her over his goblet. “If that insufferable stick-in-the-mud manages to catch your attention, then even I might actually stand a chance.”
Audrey scoffed. “In your dreams, Connor.”
“Then,” Clarice began. “What exactly are you planning to do about this supposedly ‘interesting’ swot?”
Audrey’s gaze drifted for a moment, unfocused, the smile lingering.
“Don’t know yet,” she said. She seemed too satisfied for her own good. “I’ll let you know when I do.”
Imogen Barrows, seated beside her, rolled her eyes without even looking up from her plate. “Here we go again.”