It was Sunday, and Anne got up early, stretching with a big yawn. Fanny, already halfway through putting on her Slytherin robes, turned from the dressing mirror.
"Up this early on a weekend?" she asked.
"I haven't finished Monday's Charms and Ancient Runes homework…" Anne slipped into her school robes and climbed down from her bed. "Did you?"
"Nope," Fanny groaned, pulling a face. "I really didn't expect the workload this year to be so heavy, and harder too."
By the time they arrived at the Great Hall, the four House tables were already dotted with students. Anne glanced around but didn't see Hermione, so she followed Fanny over to the Slytherin table and sat down.
She reached for a bowl of American-style baked beans in tomato sauce, gave it a look, and promptly pushed it aside. In the end, she picked up two slices of toast and a dish of cheese instead.
"What's that?" Fanny asked, sipping her milk and pointing at the rejected bowl.
"Baked beans in tomato sauce. A classic American breakfast. Main ingredients: tomatoes, ketchup, and navy beans," Anne said blandly.
"Oh? A new dish again? But if it's not good, you usually reject it in the kitchens before it even gets made by the house-elves."
"It's not bad… just not great for breakfast." Anne calmly replied, reaching for a palm-sized fillet of grilled salmon instead.
The owl post arrived shortly after, but the famous Gryffindor trio was still nowhere to be seen. As Anne opened a letter from Momo (her family owl), her gaze drifted toward the Gryffindor table, which was almost empty.
She set aside the work-related mail for now and opened letters from Diana and Aaron. Both letters briefly updated her on their lives and asked how she was doing.
Smiling, Anne pulled out two sheets of parchment from her bag and quickly penned replies. After sealing the scrolls and casting waterproof and humidity-resistant charms, she gently stroked Momo's head.
"Take these to Diana and Aaron, okay?"
Momo chirped softly, nuzzled her fingers, and took off in a flurry of wings.
After storing the work letters, Anne leaned over and glanced at the Daily Prophet in Fanny's hands.
"What's the situation looking like lately?" she asked.
"Not bad. No reports of deaths, but there was another Dementor attack." Fanny flipped to page two. "Ah, someone's been arrested."
"Who?" Anne asked.
"Stan Shunpike," Fanny replied.
"Who? Never heard of him. Is he a Death Eater?"
"Apparently… not quite. The article says: Stan Shunpike, the well-known conductor of the Knight Bus, has been arrested for suspected Death Eater activity. The 21-year-old was apprehended last night during a raid on his residence in Clapham by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"What exactly was he accused of?"
"Well…" Fanny frowned. "It says someone overheard him in a pub talking about secret Death Eater plans. That's all it took to get him arrested."
Anne pulled her gaze back. "Do you believe that? I think the Ministry's just desperate. With the whole wizarding world on edge, they want to look like they're doing something."
"Yeah…" Fanny nodded and flipped another page. "I heard the Patil twins' parents are pulling them out of school. And some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw underclassmen have withdrawn too. But honestly, I think Hogwarts is safer than their homes. There are Aurors everywhere now, plus Professor Dumbledore."
Anne glanced toward the staff table, Dumbledore's seat was empty. She knew he was rarely at the school these days. The Order of the Phoenix still had a lot of work to do. Most of the Death Eaters were still lying low, partly because Voldemort still feared Dumbledore. And of course, Dumbledore was off looking for Horcruxes.
Anne couldn't help much in that regard. She had no idea where they were. The best she could do now was help the Order indirectly, boosting their overall strength, and maybe building an alternative combat system, different from traditional wizarding methods, based on the knowledge she had.
"Anne, look here!" Fanny suddenly pointed to a tiny square ad tucked away in the corner of the Daily Prophet's last page. It was written entirely in Ancient Runes.
"Someone's actually using Ancient Runes for classified ads? That's insane!" she laughed, slowly translating it word by word.
Help Notice:
To all British witches and wizards, are you terrified of the coming war? Let us help.
For only 1,000 Galleons per person, we can relocate you to America, Brazil, South Africa, Iran, Russia, India, or Australia.
The war will end eventually, you can lie low in another country.
Note: Financial assistance is available through Gringotts loan services.
For details, go to Farringdon Station on the London Underground Metropolitan Line.
Look for a man in black clothes and jeans.
Password: "Pandora's Box."
Response: "Hope survives."
If he says that, you've found the right person.
Fanny clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, then her eyes lit up. "Anne, do you think it's real? I've heard that some wizards have started moving their assets abroad, but I never thought ordinary wizards might actually have a way to leave the country. And if they're offering loans too? That's big. I always assumed emigration was next to impossible, especially without passports and all that."
"Well, if they're serious about this, they must have their own channels," Anne replied casually, then leaned forward, frowning slightly. "That's weird. Why isn't the Gryffindor trio here yet? And the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables look almost empty too."
She checked her watch. "It's not that early."
"Oh right!" Fanny suddenly remembered. "I meant to tell you yesterday, but we got sidetracked talking about those new textbook illustrations. Gryffindor's Quidditch tryouts are this morning!"
Anne shot to her feet. "I'm going to the pitch!"
Fanny gave her a knowing look and started packing her bag. "Go ahead. I'll head to the library and finish my homework."
"You're not coming?"
"What for? You're clearly going to find Hermione. I'd just be a third wheel. Also, give me your Herbology essay. It's due tomorrow, and I know you've already finished it."
Anne grinned and handed over the rolled parchment. "Fine. I'll find you after the tryouts."
⚡︎━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❖ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⚡︎
The sky was overcast and heavy, threatening rain. Anne quickened her pace toward the Quidditch pitch, where a crowd of Gryffindor students had already gathered. Nearly half the House was there. About ten hopefuls were flying around the pitch, but from the looks of it, their flying wasn't exactly impressive.
Anne barely glanced at the air. Her eyes scanned the sidelines instead, unlike an actual match, there were no elevated stands, just benches. She spotted Hermione immediately.
But her expression turned cold.
A tall Gryffindor boy stood in front of Hermione, animatedly talking and gesturing. Anne recognized him: Cormac McLaggen, a seventh-year. They'd briefly met in Slughorn's "Slug Club" compartment on the Hogwarts Express.
Hermione looked… interested. She was even asking follow-up questions.
Anne felt a flash of irritation rise in her chest, but she took a deep breath and reined it in. Stay calm. He's just talking. He's a senior from her House, it's normal to be polite.
Even so, her steps quickened.
From her seat, Hermione had been keeping an eye on the castle for a while. She hadn't told Anne about the tryouts and wondered how Anne would react when she didn't see her at breakfast.
As soon as she spotted Anne approaching, and clearly speeding up, Hermione stood up without a second thought, even though McLaggen was mid-sentence.
"Anne!" she called out.
McLaggen turned around too.
Anne's tense expression instantly softened when she saw Hermione. Ignoring McLaggen, she moved to greet her, arms half-open as if to hug her.
But McLaggen stepped right between them, cutting in confidently.
"We met on the train! In Slughorn's compartment," he said, offering a handshake. "Cormac McLaggen. Pleased to meet you."
Anne's lips tightened. Her face remained politely neutral, but Hermione could tell, there wasn't a trace of warmth in her eyes.
"Hello, Cormac McLaggen from Slughorn's compartment," Anne said flatly, not even looking at his hand. She took a step to the side, walked straight past him, and gently took Hermione's hand, sitting down beside her.
McLaggen blinked, clearly caught off guard by the snub. But he composed himself quickly and sat on Hermione's other side with his broom in hand.
"I was just telling Hermione why I missed tryouts last year," he said with an exaggerated grin. "I ate a whole pound of doxy eggs on a dare. Turns out they're poisonous, you know? But I didn't flinch! Bitter, sticky, tasted like eucalyptus…"
"I was just curious about how doxy eggs taste," Hermione quickly said, gripping Anne's hand more tightly. She could tell Anne's mood was already souring, despite her forced smile.
Just then, the tryouts for Keeper began, and McLaggen excused himself with a smug wave, hopping on his broom and flying to the center of the pitch.
"Anne, " Hermione said nervously.
"I only found out about the tryouts because Fanny mentioned it," Anne said, a little accusingly. "And now I come here and find you chatting with him?"
"I didn't know he'd sit next to me! And I was genuinely curious about doxy eggs, that's all! I don't like the way he talks, though."
"Oh? So you don't like him at all?" Anne asked, watching her closely.
Hermione shook her head firmly.
Anne's mood improved instantly. "Good."
They returned to chatting normally after that, talking about Professor Sprout, Professor Vector, and their classes. Everything felt back to normal… until McLaggen's turn came.
While no one was watching, Anne casually slipped her wand out from her sleeve and cast a silent Confundus Charm on him. He missed two saves and lost the Keeper spot to Ron.
Hermione, of course, thought this was completely unfair. Anne was a prefect, tampering with a tryout was a serious violation. But… remembering McLaggen's smug face and their earlier conversation, Hermione decided to let it go.
⚡︎━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❖ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⚡︎
The complete release can be accessed through Patreon.com/Crimson_Lore