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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.

Chapter Text

Things are going to be better this year, Nancy promises herself firmly as she pulls her luggage onto the train. After a summer of stifled silences, the pointed absence of her father, and only Barb to keep her company, Nancy can’t take the idea of it not being better at Hogwarts after the first year. She is no longer a scared eleven year old. She may only be a second year, but she is not going to let herself spend the whole year cowering. Mike had refused to come to the station that year, grumbling something under his breath until their mum had relented. Nancy had tried not to feel bothered by it as she pulled him into a hug that he resisted, hanging half limp in her arms, but the moment tastes bitter to her now, several hours later as she settles into an empty compartment.

She sighs to herself. It’s not like she can do anything about it now. Besides, her brother has always been an ass when he wants to be. Nancy supposes that she’s no longer a cool older sister and instead a source of embarrassment for him. It doesn’t sting but it might ache a little. Only when she thinks of how they used to make up games together, Nancy corralling him into staying out of their parents’ way but Mike only ever seeing it as the two of them being best friends.

Barb arrives just in time to knock her out of her thoughts. Nancy grins up at her as she slips into the compartment. “Long time, no see, stranger,” she jokes, beaming as Barb rolls her eyes.

“It’s been less than 24 hours, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, but you missed me.”

Barb tuts, but she’s smiling as she does so, and Nancy counts that as a win at least. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.” She laughs, warmth erupting in her chest. Barb always knows how to make her feel better. As the two of them settle for the journey, she’s surprised to see Barb pin her with a hard look, though. “Is Brenner going to keep giving you books?”

Nancy starts, surprised at the question. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, the books he gives you on hexes and curses and defence.”

Nancy frowns. She’s told Barb about the extra work that Brenner has given her, including over the summer, but she’s not sure why it’s an issue. “I mean, I don’t know, but probably?”

Barb hums, something displeased in the furrow of her brow, the little dimple that appears under her eyebrow when she frowns. “Right.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I just don’t like it.”

Nancy waits for her to elaborate, but nothing comes, Barb falling silent whilst continuing to look perturbed in a way that makes it Nancy’s problem too. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t like it’?”

“It’s weird, okay?”

Nancy scoffs. “He’s a teacher, what is he supposed to do? Not teach?”

Barb sends her a harsh look, and Nancy knows that her defences are up. “You know it’s more than that.”

“Whatever, Barb. I like it, okay? It’s interesting.”

Silence settles over them, all-encompassing and stifling in a way that it hasn’t been since the beginning of last year. Nancy shifts in her seat, overcome by the strange urge to apologise. It never used to be like this when they were younger: Nancy has always been stubborn and bull-headed enough to refuse to back down, but Barb was usually the one person who could talk some sense into her. She hasn’t done anything wrong and she doesn’t really understand why they are arguing, but she owes Barb a lot. Old guilt churns in her stomach at the memory of how she treated her the year before, and Nancy finds herself opening her mouth before she’s really aware of it.

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t want us to argue, Barb.”

Her old friend softens, shrugging. “Me neither.” She doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t apologise herself and Nancy finds herself feeling stranded. She turns to the window instead of pressing the issue further, uncertainty fluttering in her chest. Nancy does her best to tamp down on it, even with the weight of Barb’s gaze flickering to her every so often.

Barb sighs, the noise pointed in the silence of the compartment. She’s not sure how it’s meant but it feels like a gut punch all the same. “Some of those books are really dark. That’s all.”

“I mean, that kind of magic usually crosses between defence and offensive pretty easily. Of course there will be jinxes and hexes in there.”

“Not just those, though. Right, Nancy? I’ve read some of the stuff in those books with you and there’s some serious curses in there. Why would he be giving that to a second year?”

Nancy pushes down the burn of Barb’s dismissal. “Is it so difficult to believe he just thinks I can be pushed to be better?”

Barb hums doubtfully, her lips twisting into a half-frown half-grimace and Nancy does her best to keep her scoff suppressed. They don’t talk for the rest of the ride. Robin ambles along eventually, her eyes widening at the frosty atmosphere in the compartment.

“Uh, I just came to say ‘hi’, but I think I might go back to the Hufflepuffs,” she awkwardly explains, still hovering in the doorway and barely having entered. Nancy isn’t sure if she blames her. Barb gives Nancy a long look, screwing her nose up when she eventually turns away, apparently dissatisfied with whatever she finds in her face.

“You know what, Robin, I think I’ll come with you. See you, Wheeler.”

She doesn’t bother to bite back a quip, keeping her eyes trained on the countryside instead, but the reflection in the glass of the window means she gets to see the conflicted look that Robin gives the two of them, warily following Barb back down the corridor after one last worried glance in Nancy’s direction. Barb, on the other hand, doesn’t turn around or even hesitate as she strides away, bag in tow.

Nancy spends the rest of the journey alone and pretending that she’s fine with it.

“Good summer?” Cassie asks when she settles at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and she has to resist the urge to scoff, still dwelling on the disappointment in Barb’s face. Removed from the stress of her own Sorting the year before, Nancy is a little more able to appreciate the grandeur of the start-of-term feast: golden plates and goblets gleam in the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair.

“Not really,” Nancy confesses, a wry smile on her face as she waits for the Sorting to start. The first years shift in the middle of the Hall, standing between the tables before the platform.

Cassie gives her an even look before shrugging. “Well, I had to spend the train ride with Joanna and Lucy, so I’m pretty sure I’m having a worse day than you.”

It’s mean-spirited and rude, but Nancy laughs despite herself, her shoulders loosening a little as she rolls them free of the tension she’s bunched into them. Cassie’s eyes glint with victory and Nancy finds herself freshly reminded of the other girl’s observation skills. It’s difficult to resist giving her a smile.

“Feel free to abandon them next year,” Nancy offers, stiffening slightly the second she says it but Cassie just nods, an amused tilt to her mouth, before turning back to the Sorting. She’s never quite sure where they stand, but this feels like a step enough.

————

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Miss Wheeler,” Brenner greets after the first Defence lesson of the year, having asked her to stay back. He doesn’t ask about her summer and she hasn’t expected him to. “Did you find the books I gave you helpful?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, “though, of course, I didn’t practise any magic outside of school as that would be illegal.” Nancy gives him a careful smile, one he returns with a cold nod of his own. Of course, they both know that, as a pureblood, Nancy is free to use as much magic as she likes at home.

“Yes,” he agrees with a measured hum. “Well, you might be interested in the Duelling Club that I have successfully had Headmaster Owens agree to restart this year.”

“I’m not sure that I want to give people an excuse to hurl spells in my direction, sir,” she responds, frowning in confusion.

Brenna laughs, empty and cold somehow. Nancy tenses, even as he gives her a rare smile. “A tip, Miss Wheeler: if you use a sanctioned platform to show exactly how capable we both know you are, I rather think that you might find the hallway trouble you face will become quite limited without you having to get detention for standing up for yourself.”

It’s a fair point and a rather clever one. Nancy feels her chest spread with warmth at the thought even as her mouth ticks downward, a doubtful frown pulling at her lips. “If I lose, I open myself to being an even bigger target, though.”

Professor Brenner nods, humming in acknowledgement. “Yes, a tricky line. One I’m not surprised to see you recognise. You really were surprised at your Sorting?”

Nancy bristles. “I’m not sure what my Sorting has to do with it.”

Brenner raises a rueful eyebrow. “No? I knew your parents, you know. I doubt they would have recognised the double sided blade.”

Nancy frowns. Brenner is a Slytherin himself and her parents have never had a kind word for him. It’s a difficult line to straddle here. “Well, I suppose they’ve gotten less rash in their old age.”

“Perhaps,” Brenner laughs, his mouth twisting into something she can’t pin as a frown or a smile. “Either way, you should consider joining the club. And I have some more books for you. It’ll be good to put the theory into practice.”

Nancy ducks her head. She knows a dismissal when she hears one. “Thank you, sir.” She accepts the textbooks he hands her, these one slightly heavier and thicker than the ones he had given her last year but she doesn’t say anything, just adding them to her bag and giving him a grateful smile as she ducks back into the corridor to head to her next class.

At lunch, between picking at bites of chicken, she finds herself blurting out what Brenner had told her. “They’re starting the Duelling Club up again.”

Barb whistles through her teeth, head jerking up from her position on the bench across from her. “I heard they shut that down last time because someone got so injured they had to go to St Mungo’s. Where did you hear that it was being restarted?”

Nancy swallows. She hadn’t thought this through, she’s realising now. “Professor Brenner told me. He wants me to join.”

Barb sighs, her eyebrows ticking together into a reflex frown before she smooths her expression into something unreadable. “Right.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? I’m pretty sure he’s asking everyone to,” Nancy presses, something winding tight in her jaw. Barb blinks at her, unflappable and impenetrable. Nancy isn’t sure when she got so hard to read. She never used to be. Not for Nancy.

“Nothing, Nance,” Barb sighs again.

“Right,” she echoes, only half-mockingly, but Barb’s eyes go steely regardless.

“I have to go finish my Charms essay,” she bites out, rising unceremoniously and leaving Nancy sat alone, her hands balled into tight fists beneath the table. “Let me know when you’ve stopped being such a boor and we can have an actual conversation.”

Nancy keeps her jaw locked shut as Barb strides away, her shoulders set and tense, just like on the train. It doesn’t take long for her to abandon her food as well, cursing under her breath as she stalks out of the Hall and heads to her Transfiguration lesson. Cassie gives her a curious look when she slides into her seat with a glower already in place, but she doesn’t press as Nancy turns her statue into a particularly vicious bird with the avifors spell. Nancy feels satisfaction burn in her chest, her mouth a grim line, as Hawthorne nods in her direction.

“You really don’t need to show off,” Cassie remarks mildly, bringing her back to herself a little bit. “I already know you’re better than me at this.”

Nancy softens as she looks at the other girl. “I’m not.” At Cassie’s hard look, she relents further with a small laugh. “Or, I don’t mean to, at least. This is just revision anyway.”

Cassie nods, sighing anyway. “You know, it’s very frustrating being friends with you.”

“Oh?” Nancy says, half-laughing to herself even if she feels the familiar warmth spread through that comes anytime that Cassie acknowledges that they are friends.

“Yeah,” she says, prodding at her statue with her wand before turning into a bird that only slightly struggles to fly. “You’re just too good at everything.”

Nancy winces sympathetically. “Sorry. You’ll always have wizard’s chess.”

Cassie’s eyes light up in satisfaction. “Yes,” she mumbles to herself, her glee only slightly terrifying, “I will.”

“Merlin, you scare me.”

“Good,” Cassie counters, grinning viciously in her direction. “Now help me figure out why this damn bird won’t fly.”

————

It’s only a few weeks into term that Steve Harrington approaches her. It’s not like they had ever talked before or like their families really knew each other that well, but Steve was the kind of person everyone knew. Even as only a third year, he was pretty well-liked by the lower school. Definitely not the kind of person who stands over quiet second years who disgrace their family in the library.

But she looks up and there Steve is all the same.

“Hey, Wheeler,” he says, smiling at her that warm way of his. He’s grown his hair out a little over the summer so that it looks much more poofy than before. She’s not sure if she’s supposed to be as tempted to laugh at that, but it looks soft all the same, so she goes for a smile instead. All in all, Nancy doesn’t know how to react to any of this, or to the way that he leans forward, casually propped up against the stacks.

“Steve,” she responds, smiling despite it all. He grins at the sight of it.

“I hear that you’re the person to go to if anyone needs tutoring help.”

Nancy nods, though she can’t help the frown that pulls at her lips. “Uh, yeah, sure, but you’re the year ahead. I don’t know how much help I will be.”

Steve waves a hand dismissively, swinging his bag onto one of the seats as he collapses into another. Now that he’s moved closer, she can see the stress lining his features and re-evaluates what this is supposed to be. She hadn’t had Steve pegged as caring too much about classes, but he looks seriously stressed over something. Nancy pushes her parchment to the side, stoppering her ink as well, and lets him speak.

“Well, sure, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t understand half of second year Potions either, so I think you’ll be able to help me out either way.”

She can’t help but laugh at the vaguely pathetic pout he gives her. The smile he lets show through afterwards doesn’t hurt either. “Alright, fine. What’s the issue?”

“Mainly that I don’t understand a single thing that Hopper talks about.”

Nancy snorts. “Well, to be fair, I don’t think that Hopper cares what he’s talking about either way.” The man was apparently a good head of house, but everyone knows that he only teaches because he had to be discharged from the Aurors after his family was killed. Potions wasn’t even his subject, apparently, and he only wasn’t teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts because Brenner had been at Hogwarts for longer and Owens couldn’t get rid of him.

Steve smirks, clearly thinking along the same lines as he shrugs. He’s a Hufflepuff so he doesn’t know him any better than she does but if Hogwarts is good at one thing, it’s spreading rumours and gossip.

“Anyway,” he sighs, leafing through the scattered pages of parchment he has pulled from his bag, “I need to get my grades up enough that my dad will get off my back. Do you think you could just study with me? Keep me focused?”

Nancy nods, blushing a little under the weight of his gaze. She’s not quite sure what to do with his attention. Steve Harrington isn’t easy in the same way that Robin is. The other girl carries most of the conversation herself if Nancy wants to sit back, but even then it still feels familiar and rote to banter and trade comments and conversations. Steve is a complete unknown. She doesn’t know how to handle it, but he sends a grateful smile and she guesses that she will just have to figure it out.

“Why me, though? Surely there are people in your year who can help?”

Steve sends her an odd look. “Apparently you’re blowing most of my year out of the water in class scores so far. I think I’m better off sticking with you. Besides, half of them tried last year. Didn’t take them long to give up.” Nancy rolls her eyes good-naturedly when Steve tries to send her a rakish smile. It just looks sort of lopsided on his face. “So, you might have a challenge on your hands.”

Nancy hums, considering, before sending him a sharp smile of her own. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Harrington. Get your Potion books out.”

He holds his hands up in brief surrender, eyes crinkling as he smiles before diving into his bag for his book. It looks barely cracked and she sends him a scolding glance before letting him point out the parts that he doesn’t understand. They settle into an easy sort of rhythm, and Steve is sweet enough that she doesn’t really mind that he spends more time looking at her out of the corner of his eye than focusing on his work. It’s only half as grating as it could be. It reminds her a little of her study sessions with Robin, if only in the way that she has to accommodate another person’s presence. She keeps looking up, expecting honey blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s not sure why, or why something in her goes brittle at the sight of warm brown instead.

Afterwards, he fixes her with what she’s sure is what he thinks is his most charming smile, all easygoing and picture-perfect. “Thanks, Wheeler. Same time next week?”

She snorts. “You should start paying me.”

He flutters his eyelashes, pretending to be offended. “What, the pleasure of my company isn’t enough?”

“You’re next to the kitchens, Harrington,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks away, refusing to be baited. “Just bring snacks.”

It had been a throwaway comment, quite literally, but Steve turns up next week with an armful of pastries hidden in his robes. Nancy laughs before she casts a disillusionment charm on them only strong enough to make sure that Madam Pince’s eyes slide over them when she walks past. Steve had brought plenty of food but when he finds out that the lemon tarts are her favourite, he slides them all over to her without question.

————

Nancy supposes, from the start, that it wouldn’t be long before people clock that Steve has started hanging around her. Especially when he stops being content to leave it to just their studying sessions and starts hanging over her in the halls, always quick with a smile and a joke. She’s never sure if she should elbow him away or let him lean closer. She’s not even completely convinced that this isn’t all a massive joke that will back-fire on her, so she takes it as it comes. It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice, though.

“What’s going on with you and Harrington?” Cassie asks, her usual impenetrable mask already up. Nancy frowns.

“What are you talking about?”

Cassie scoffs dismissively, though not unkindly. She looks at Nancy, an amused tilt to the corner of her mouth. “Come on, Nancy.”

She bristles, though she knows it’s kind of pointless. “There’s nothing going on. I don’t even like Steve. He’s all ego.” It only feels like half a lie. Talking with Steve is nice and he isn’t all ego, but it’s too good to be true. Too picture-perfect. Steve Harrington is exactly the kind of person most people would be glad to be hanging around, but it all just sets Nancy on edge. Then, he gives her a smile and cracks a stupid pun about their potion ingredients and she can’t help but feel a flicker of real affection for him.

“Well, that’s true enough,” Cassie drawls, lounging back on her pillows. “I think he likes you, though.”

Nancy raises an eyebrow, resisting the urge to laugh. “Oh, yeah? What gives you that impression?”

“The fact that he won’t leave you alone?” Cassie points out, a sly smirk pulling at her features now. “Come on, he’s practically a puppy.”

Nancy scowls. “I don’t need some Hufflepuff following me around. I don’t want anything to do with Harrington.”

Cassie hums, clearly disbelieving, but letting it go. Before she can say more, Joanna and Lucy burst into the room, giggling between them. “Did you guys see Steve Harrington’s hair today? He’s so fit!” Joanna practically squeals and Nancy wishes someone would smother her in her sleep. Cassie gives her a look, a single arching eyebrow saying all that there is to be said.

Nancy flips her off, groaning at the way that it just makes the other girl’s smirk grow and ignoring the confused and curious looks from their other dormmates. “I’m going to the library,” she announces in more of a sigh than any kind of dramatic exit, leaving the mess of giggles and smug looks behind her, grateful for her familiar pile of books to delve into.

She doesn’t need anything except this, she tells herself, even if something warm pulls at her chest when she thinks about Steve’s gleaming smile, rakish and self-assured and untouchable.

As she’s leaving, she smacks straight into someone else, solid and unforgiving.

“Wheeler,” Billy grins, all smarmy and self-confident, saccharine-sweet in a way that’s more sinister than convincing. At least to Nancy, as she backs away. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“We’re in the same house, Hargrove,” she drawls, flat and unimpressed. “Hardly a surprise.”

Billy isn’t discouraged, a flash of straight-white teeth and a flick of his tongue over his lips as he looks over her. He’s two years older than her and has never paid her any attention before, only fixating on her the second that Steve decides to. Nancy bristles at the way that he looks at her.

“What do you want, Billy?” She bites out, hard and uncompromising. He laughs, harsh and flint-like even as his grin grows.

“Why so mean?”

Nancy gives him an unimpressed look. Even as a Slytherin, she recognises that Billy is the worst that Hogwarts has to over. “I just want nothing to do with you.” Billy raises an eyebrow, offended in a gleeful manner, as if he can’t wait to push and prod and break until he gets his way. Nancy steps around him, her shoulders a tense line as she moves away from him. “Leave me alone, Hargrove.”

His ice cold eyes follow her as she turns away, the weight of them heavy on the back of her neck, tingling fingers of unease tracing their way up and down her spine. “You’ll come around, Wheeler!” He crows after her, a slight cackle to his voice, and Nancy suppresses a shudder.

She really doesn’t think that she will, but she bites her tongue, knowing that there is no point in goading someone like Billy anymore than she has to. She doesn’t mention the incident to Steve either, refusing to take part in whatever egotistical competition is going on between the two of them. She’s seen the glares that they send each other, the incredibly unsubtle rivalry that they have.

None of it really matters in the end. If Billy tries her again, she’ll stop him. Make it clear that she has nothing to do with either of them.

Assuring herself of the fact doesn’t do anything to ease the pressure in her chest.

————

Nancy signs up for Duelling Club, if only because she doesn’t think she would survive the quiet and pointed disappointed look she would get from Professor Brenner if she didn’t. When he approaches her before practice to ask if she wanted some more books to prepare, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, Nancy winces, thinking of Barb’s own hard, disappointed stare.

“Um, if it’s okay, sir, I would rather not.”

Brenner’s mouth flattens into one long line, a slash of disapproval. “Oh?”

“Well, I just want to focus on my other classes for now,” she rushes to explain. “I’m a bit rubbish at Herbology and Professor Wallace thinks that I might not be giving the subject all the attention I should.”

“Herbology,” he echoes, eyes thinning even further as he stares her down.

Nancy shifts her weight between her feet but holds fast. “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you for helping me. Can you give me a list so I can read them when I have time?”

Brenner hesitates for a moment, his expression as unreadable as his cold eyes as he looks at her, before shaking his head. “No, Miss Wheeler. I’m afraid if you aren’t ready to dedicate yourself to fulfilling your potential, there is nothing that I can do to help you.”

Nancy would protest, but she’s rather brought this on herself as Brenner turns away, his robes swishing around him and his gaze sliding past her as though she was no longer of any interest to him. Something cracks a little in her chest as she watches him stride away, but this is what she had wanted. Nancy can almost convince herself of that, of the fact that she’s fine letting her own power and potential slip through her fingers for the sake of avoiding conflict.

Her hands are clenched into tight and bloodless fists in her pockets anyway.

Her frustration only grows when she goes to the first Duelling Club meeting a week later, Barb following along even if she grumbles under her breath the whole time. Professor Brenner is in charge of it, as she had suspected, but he doesn’t seem to pay her any mind as she walks, looking straight past her. She tries not to feel bothered by it. She’s just a second year: just because he had been helping her before, doesn’t mean that she’s anything special.

Barb gives her a knowing look, but Nancy isn’t in the mood to engage with it. This is exactly why she didn’t want to come, why she told Brenner she didn’t want the extra work. She doesn’t want to have to deal with an argument with her alongside everything. Better to just keep her head down.

The long dining tables in the Great Hall have vanished, and Nancy finds herself lost in crowds of students from all years and houses, a golden stage set up alongside one of the far walls.

“Do you think it will just be Brenner teaching the class?” Barb’s mouth twists as she says the words, and it’s clear what she thinks of the idea. Nancy tries not to roll her eyes too hard.

“Probably not. Hopper will likely be involved. He used to be an Auror, after all.”

Barb nods, tilting her head in agreement. Sure enough, when Brenner climbs the steps to the stage, Hopper leaps up to the platform as well. Both of them cut intimidating pictures on their own: severe dark robes, Hopper’s grizzled frown and Brenner’s cold and detached neutrality. As Brenner announces that the first meeting will start with a demonstration, Nancy can’t help the small spark of excitement as she watches Brenner twirl his wand between his fingers in anticipation.

It’s an impressive trade of blows, even if it’s obvious that both professors are holding back. Even as a former Auror, and, according to the rumour mill, the guy still gunning for Brenner’s job, Hopper looks impressed, and is humble enough, to send him a nod of recognition after he has his wand blasted out his hand.

Nancy isn’t sure if she should revel in the Slytherin victory or not, a dilemma that none of her housemates have, blatantly cheering the Gryffindor loss. Maybe foolishly, but it only strikes her now exactly how much of a hotbed for inter-house tensions she’s found herself in.

Demonstration over, the professors instruct everyone to pair up. Nancy doesn’t even bother to hide her relieved smile when she snags Barb before anyone else can even approach, glad to not only have a competent partner but also one who hopefully won’t try to maim her too much. Barb rolls her eyes at her expression, though Nancy knows she isn’t imagining the pleased tilt to her mouth or the way that her eyes screw up around the edges from her smile.

“You’re going down, Wheeler,” the redhead taunts, and Nancy doesn’t want to risk what her reaction would be if she shot back, so she just gives her a tight smile and raises her wand. They settle into an easy back-and-forth, trading fairly innocuous jinxes and spells. Nancy might not want to create tension, but she also isn’t just going to let the other girl win. She sends Barb a jokingly smug smile when she manages to disarm her, relieved when Barb rolls her eyes good-humouredly.

“Should have seen that coming,” the other girl sighs.

Nancy can’t help her self-satisfied smile. “Probably.”

“You know Steve is staring at you.”

She grimaces. “Really?”

“Yep,” Barb shoots back, popping the ‘p’. “Want me to hex him?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Barb raises an eyebrow and Nancy can’t help but laugh as she shrugs. “Really?”

“Really,” Nancy promises. Steve is something she hasn’t quite figured out yet, but he’s pretty harmless considering the fact that all they really do is study together. Every time she looks at him, she gets a strange weight in her chest and, really, deep down, she thinks she knows what he is thinking too. Nancy’s parents might have backed off a long time ago, but she still remembers the stories her mum used to tell her to try and lull her to sleep or how she would smile absently at her father when he did something endearing. Those days are over, but she remembers the fondness in her eyes, and knows it's similar to the way that Steve looks at her. It makes her feel off-balance and disoriented, like a buzzing under her skin that just won’t sit right.

Later into the Duelling Club meeting, STeve tries to partner up with her instead of Barb, but Nancy just gives him a bland smile, pretending she doesn’t feel the back of her neck heating up with anxiety or the roiling feeling in her stomach.

Barb gives her a strange look, but doesn’t say anything, and Nancy feels more affection for her maybe-still-best friend than she has all year.

————

Nancy should have seen it coming. She really only has herself to blame at the end of the day. All the Defence Against the Dark Arts books in the world won’t help her unless she learns to keep her eyes peeled and her walls up.

They catch her coming out of the library, only a few minutes before curfew, close enough that she’s focusing on stuffing the last of her notes into her bag as she walks at a fast clip. There’s not long to go and she’s certainly cutting it short, but she can make it back to the dungeons if she runs and Nancy knows she can do it without getting caught.

She’s so focused on not breaking curfew that she doesn’t notice the two looming distinctive shadows until an iron grip clamps around her arm, another hand covering her mouth before she has a chance to yell out. Arms lock under her own, keeping her back pinned to her assailant’s chest, Tommy so much taller and stronger than Nancy, still only a scrawny second year. It’s easy for Carol to pluck her wand from her hand, pocketing it with a toothy grin. Tommy leers over her shoulder, his face likely mirroring the smug smile cutting across Carol’s face like the slash of a particularly sharp knife.

“What shall we do with little Wheeler, then?” Tommy pretends to consider, crowing with sly satisfaction as he holds Nancy tight, even as she squirms and wrestles to get free. She can’t break free of his grip and she quickly realises that there’s not much point in fighting. She goes limp, huffing a resigned sigh as Carol presses her wand to her chest.

“We should throw her in the lake,” the older girl suggests, and Nancy’s head fills with images of black endless water, cold and icy and bottomless. “Maybe the Giant Squid will do us all a favour and drown her.”

Tommy tuts, frustrated and disappointed. “No, the staff won’t ignore that. Better to find a broom closet or something. It’s almost curfew. She can rot there for the night.”

They do just that, ropes springing from the top of Carol’s wand and wrapping around Nancy’s torso, binding her even tighter. It brings her close enough though, that Nancy can nail her with a quick kick between her legs, grinning in vicious satisfaction as Carol’s face turns red with anger even as Tommy scowls and stuffs Nancy into a tiny closet and slams the door firmly shut, one of them spelling the door stuck closed. The darkness settles all around her, endless and impenetrable, Tommy and Carol’s voices only slightly audible as they begin to walk away. Then she is left in total silence.

It doesn’t take long for her to panic. Carol had taken her wand so there’s nothing she can do to unlock the door, which she can’t even see, the broom closet tiny and claustrophobic. The wood is smooth and polished beneath her hands as she pounds her fists on the door, screaming for someone to let her out. Dignity doesn’t feel like much of a priority here, so Nancy screams until her throat goes raw and she collapses on the stone wall only a few inches behind her. The closet isn’t wide enough for her to sit down with much comfort, but she’s small enough that she can tuck her knees under her chin and huddle into herself.

Nancy makes a good show of power and defence, good enough with a wand and quick enough with a jinx that a lot of the bullying has petered off since last year, but here, stuck in a tiny box that might as well be a coffin, none of that matters. Nancy is just a defenceless and powerless little kid again, not enough for anyone. Her hands hurt from pounding on the door, so she starts to kick it instead, praying that someone, anyone, will overhear.

She’s not sure how many hours pass in the dark before she hears footsteps outside her little closet. She springs to her feet, banging against the door with renewed vigour. “Hey! Let me out! Please! Get me out of here!” She shouts, her voice already gone hoarse. The words make her throat feel even more raw, but she doesn’t let up until she hears someone let out a curse, the handle of the door rattling until they realise it’s been spelled closed.

It opens suddenly, open air where there had been solid wood, and Nancy stumbles forward with the surprise of it. A prefect catches her by her shaking arms, clearly on his patrol, and his gaping surprise is enough of a reminder that Nancy manages to pull herself together. The older boy is faceless and nameless to her, even if he calls after her when she turns on her heel and walks, just shy of running, down the corridor, keeping her head ducked and her shoulder bunched around her ears. Joanna and Lucy are long since asleep when she crawls into the dormitory, pointedly not looking at Cassie’s bed in case the other girl is awake, but the room is blessedly silent save for the slightest creak of Nancy’s mattress as she buries herself under the covers. The warmth of her bed is so juxtaposed by the chill that seems to have seeped into her bones from sitting on the stone floor for so long that she shivers even under all the layers she piles on top of herself. Nancy feels her teeth chatter in her skull.

She eventually manages to go to sleep, the next day dawning far too quickly as Nancy struggles to pull herself out of bed, only having managed to snatch a few hours out of the jaws of last night’s terror. Her hands shake as she buttons her shirt, but it's the absence of her wand that really puts Nancy off. She hasn’t been without it since she first bought it and it’s strange to have her hand so empty, to pat her pocket and find it empty. Cassie notices it’s missing, because of course she does. Nancy is almost terrified by her omniscience, though she’s grateful for it when Cassie strides out of the dorm without a word, her shoulders set and her jaw locked, only to return ten minutes later with Nancy’s wand in her hand.

She presses it into Nancy’s own, her fingers curling instinctively around the wood even as she gives Cassie a long look. The other girl doesn’t respond, shaking her head more to herself than anything else, but Carol doesn’t look at either of them as they head to breakfast, and Nancy isn’t sure who she’s more scared of: Carol or Cassie.

She notices Tommy staring, though, and straightens her spine on instinct. Nancy wonders if they thought she would be there all night. She wonders if they had considered if she would even be found or if Nancy would be stuck there for hours, without food or light or anything to help set her free. Nancy rolls her shoulders back. She’s here at breakfast all the same and they can’t touch her here in the daylight.

That afternoon, she lingers after her Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Professor Brenner clearly notices but doesn’t look up, clearly finished with paying her any mind.

“Sir,” she says, her words careful and mild and detached. There is none of the shaking and trembling anger in her voice that she had felt, none of the raw fear, the creeping dread as Tommy had dragged her closer to the broom closet. “I know I asked for a break, but I would like some more books if that is okay?”

Professor Brenner regards her carefully, eyes searching her face before he flips his book closed, rising from behind his desk. “I thought you wanted to focus on Herbology.”

She shakes her head, ignoring the slightly mocking tone to his voice. “I’ve reassessed my priorities, sir. Like you said, I want to reach my full potential.”

His mouth thins, a straight hard line. “And what if I have decided you have none to fulfil?”

“I would say that you are wrong, sir.”

Silence hangs, Professor Brenner’s gaze unyielding as she stands fast, the man eventually nodding, his lips quirking into the ghost of a satisfied smile. “Very well, Miss Wheeler.” He reaches into one of the drawers of his desk, withdrawing a couple of thin books from the same one as usual, as though they had been sitting there waiting for Nancy. As though he had known that she would change her mind. He sends her an amused look as she clutches them to her chest, and Nancy figures he probably did, and can’t help but wonder just who else heard about what Tommy and Carol did to her.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I will see you in the Duelling Club, Miss Wheeler.” It’s more of an order than a question or a farewell, but she nods all the same, her heart pounding in her chest as she looks down at the books in her arms, tucking them quickly into her bag.

Never again would she let someone make her feel so defenceless. Never again would she be rendered powerless. Never.

Any question that Brenner knows about what happened is dispelled completely when he lines her up against Tommy at Duelling Club first, the entire crowd of students in attendance scoffing at the match up. He’s a year older and almost twice her size, but Nancy steels herself and locks her jaw, staring him down. Cruelty sparks in his expression, a mocking smile pulling at his lips, and Nancy can’t wait to knock it off his face. He tries to push her back quickly, but she’s much faster than him, and he can’t react to her spells nearly as quickly as she does his. She resists the urge to smirk even as she summons a shield, Tommy’s hex bouncing off of it.

Instead, Nancy’s eyes narrow, her focus lasering into the duel, the rest of the world fading away completely as the entire universe becomes only the flick of her wrist and the motion of her wand cutting through the air. She thinks that maybe her hands should be shaking but they are perfectly steady instead, her grip unerring and perfect on her wand as she sends a Jelly-Legs Jinx at Tommy and follows it up with a quick “silencio.” It’s a fifth year level spell and Nancy feels a spark of concern that it might not pay off, but Tommy’s mouth opens and closes without a sound and Nancy knows she’s won. It doesn’t feel enough, though, even with the sweet sight of humiliation and bitter defeat lining Tommy’s features. She wants to make him pay for all he’s done, make him understand that she can’t be messed with. “Expelliarmus,” she casts, snatching his wand out of the air.

He glowers at her, sending a helpless look at Brenner, who eventually nods and calls the match. Nancy is half tempted to break Tommy’s wand, knowing the satisfaction that would come from watching his expression, but she hands it back instead, dismissing the silencing spell keeping him mute.

“You’ll pay for that, Wheeler,” he hisses as he shoves past her to get to his seat, their shoulders knocking. Nancy stands fast, letting the jarring clatter run through her.

“You can try, Tommy,” she retorts steadily, her stare even and indifferent as he stops, face turning red. She gives him a brittle smile. “Clearly, that doesn’t mean you’ll succeed.”

Tommy jerks, like he might rush her and wrap his hands around Nancy’s throat and keep squeezing. He might have done so as well, if he hadn’t been caught around the shoulder by Steve, who gives him an easy smile and a clap on the back.

“Go sit down, man. You lost, just take it.”

Tommy glowers, jerking out of the other boy’s grip and shouldering roughly past him. Nancy feels her chest go tight as she casts her gaze over the rest of the Club. Where people had been starting to look at her with respect and admiration at her honest skill, they were now giggling and whispering about Steve and the way he had ‘rescued’ her. Nancy tries not to look too bitterly at Steve as she turns away from him, ignoring his confused and hurt look. She knows that Slytherin’s a harsh and ruthless house, that there’s no place for weakness. That just means she has to be the viper in the pit of snakes. She has to make herself untouchable, to Tommy and to Steve. Barb stares at her, unreadable and impassive as Nancy raises her chin, settling in her seat.

“I didn’t know you could cast a Silencing Spell like that. It would have been dangerous if you got it wrong.”

Nancy gives her a sharp glare, though she’s glad that she hasn’t raised a question about Steve jumping in when he didn’t have to. “It’s not like there was no staff to help him if that happened. Besides, when can I practise if not in Duelling Club?”

Barb doesn’t have an answer for that, but she sniffs reproachfully all the same and Nancy has to resist the instinct to bristle, to press and jab and prod until Barb admits to whatever is the real reason behind all of her hostility.

“Thank you for your congratulations, by the way,” Nancy bites out. Barb gives her a dark look, scoffing under her breath. Cassie raises an eyebrow on the other side of her.

“Really, Wheeler? Is your ego that big?”

Her lazy tone somehow makes the tension in Nancy’s chest break, and the laugh she lets out surprises her, even if it’s only a half-hearted chuckle. “Are you ever going to give me a break, Cassie?”

The other girl looks at her as though she’s grown a second head. “Why would I do that?”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

Nancy is smiling though, as she leans back in her seat. She can still feel the force of the glare from Barb, the other girl’s brows drawn together to create a deeper furrow than Nancy can ever remember seeing on her face. Robin, in the row behind with a bunch of Hufflepuffs, leans forward.

“Shit, Wheeler, I always knew you were terrifying, but that was something else.”

Nancy starts, craning her neck to look behind her. Robin sends her a grin, a flash of white teeth and pale pink lips. There’s none of the teasing look that other girls are giving her, no mention of Steve or anything else. Nancy’s not sure why she blushes. “It was only Tommy Hagan.”

“He’s a year older than us, Nancy, and you made him look like an idiot.”

“Because he is one,” Cassie mutters to the two of them, rolling her eyes. Nancy sends her a fond smile. She isn’t wrong. “And a twat,” Cassie adds under her breath, Nancy shrugging and nodding along. She isn’t wrong there, either.

“Alright, but my point is that you were very good up there, Nance. Does that mean I can start asking you for Defence help as well now?” Robin grins, a teasing raise of her eyebrow pulling at something in Nancy’s chest.

“I don’t share my secrets,” she says instead of admitting to any of that, though the warmth grows as Robin’s eyes crinkle in the corner’s, the bright blue of them hidden by the way that she scrunches her whole face into a wide smile. “I don’t need to help out the competition.”

Robin laughs. “I’m hardly the competition.”

There’s another duel happening and Cassie and Barb aren’t even looking at them anymore, but all of a sudden the only thing that Nancy can focus on is this conversation. “I don't know, I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

“Well, I’m no Nancy Wheeler, no matter what I do.”

She laughs. “Well, we can’t all be Nancy Wheeler,” she admits with a tilt of her head, Robin’s features stretching into a delighted grin. “I think you’ll find I’m just a swot, though.”

Robin scoffs good-naturedly, shaking her head a little bit as she does so. “Nah, let’s be real, Nance, that was some talented stuff.” She’s cut off by the redhead next to her pulling at her sleeve, telling her to shut up and focus on what Brenner is saying. Nancy lets her go with a smile as Robin sends her an apologetic smile, turning to face the redhead instead. She tries not to think about why that might make the strange buzzing under her skin worse. She turns back to face the front as well, realising that she hadn’t heard a word of Brenner’s instruction. She’s glad that Robin’s sitting behind her: it makes it easier to resist craning her neck back around to stare at her some more.

She doesn’t think she understands Robin. The two of them are easy: every time that they talk, Nancy finds herself settling into a rhythm that she doesn’t mean to set, a comfortable exchange that she follows along with like it’s second nature. Nothing else and no one else is quite the same. But the other girl is so different to Nancy, flitting in and out of her periphery, unable to quite be pinned down. There’s no real reason for the two of them to be friendly, outside of their occasional studying sessions.

Nancy doesn’t understand it, doesn’t find the pattern the same way that she can with everyone else. Maybe it’s why she finds her so captivating, so magnetic. She’s always loved understanding other people, knowing what makes them tick. That must be it, she tells herself, still feeling the weight of Robin’s eyes on the back of her head. It makes her head feel heavy and hot, like she’s suddenly in a sweltering room, unable to focus on anything else. She taps her foot absently, desperate to give herself something else to think about. The duel playing out on the platform is boring, neither participant able to get much more than simple jinxes and hexes off.

She hears Robin whisper something low and hushed, but not to her. The girl who had been sitting next to her, the redhead Robin sticks with in Hufflepuff, giggles, cutting through the air. Nancy feels her cheeks flush, her teeth clenching.

She just wants to understand Robin. It’s purely scientific, she tells herself, purely a social interest in her fellow man and a desire to protect herself by understanding everyone around her. Nancy nods to herself, sharp and decisive. Later, she stares up at the ceiling, the canopy of her bed draped around the sides, and she thinks of Robin’s ocean eyes and knows that she is lying to herself, even if she can’t figure out why.

————

“Wheeler!” Steve calls, and Nancy does her best not to bristle. She feels taut and strung out as she turns to face him, a strained smile pulling at her features. He looks slightly wary, but his easy grin is still in full force as he approaches her in the hallway. “Great duel yesterday!”

Nancy’s mood sours further, and it’s all she can do to not scowl at him. “Right.”

Steve’s smile collapses into a confused frown, a glimmer of hurt in his eyes as he looks at her. “What’s up?”

“Why did you try and intervene with Tommy?”

His frown only deepens as he looks taken aback. “Well, I just wanted to help you out. You know, make sure he didn’t bother you further.”

“He’s Tommy Hagan,” Nancy points out, her voice flat. “He’s always going to bother me. Only more so if you try and fight all my battles.”

“Whoa, Nance. I wasn’t doing that. I was just trying to help.”

“Right,” she snaps. “Well, next time, don’t.”

She strides away, expecting that to be the end of it, but Steve reaches out and catches her by the arm. He looks like such a kicked puppy that it’s difficult not to soften, just a little, when he grimaces.

“Look, Nance. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It was bullshit, Steve,” she presses, reluctant to let it go.

Steve nods so hard it’s like his head is on a spring as he raises his hands in surrender. “Absolutely. I’ll leave it next time. Besides, you’re much better with a wand than I am. I was just trying to be nice, but I see why it would bother you. I’m sorry.”

He looks so sincere, pouting down at her, that she can’t help but nod, easing up on her glower a little. Steve gives her a relieved smile, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Will you come watch the Quidditch match this weekend? I’ll score you a goal to make up for it?”

Nancy shrugs. She had been planning to go to the game between Hufflepuff and Slytherin anyway, but she is still annoyed enough to want to give him a bit of a hard time. “Just one? I thought you were sorry, Steve.”

“Alright, I’ll do my best for more, but your Declan is a tough Keeper, so no promises.”

She cracks a smile despite herself, Steve’s whole face brightening like she had declared her love for him. “Fine. But I won’t wear any yellow.”

Steve nods, his smile turning lopsided and mischievous. “Wasn’t expecting you to.”

That weekend, firmly in the back of the Slytherin stands, Nancy sits huddled in her cloak and hat, a green and silver scarf wound firmly around her neck. Cassie glowers at everyone as she wraps her own robes and cloak tighter around her body. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here just because Harrington fucked up.”

“Shut up, Cassie,” Nancy retorts absently, eyes glued to the match. Steve has scored her the promised goal, but she almost doesn’t care. She loves watching Quidditch, and it’s shaping up to be a good match. She feels a spark of guilt at rooting against her own house, but Hufflepuff’s team is surprisingly good this year, and it’s difficult to not want to see them do well.

A cheer ripples through the crowd as one of the Chasers pulls off an impressive dive to catch the Quaffle after a pass that spirals low before he flings it up to Steve, who slams it through one of Slytherin’s goals. He flies past Nancy, barely more than a flash on his broom, but she catches the wink that he throws her way. She should blush, she knows, and some part of her feels warm at the attention and affection, especially when Steve doesn’t seem to want her to be anything too different from herself, but there’s something missing from the whole picture, a whole in the centre where the beating heart should be, a jagged gap instead. Something in her pulls tight, brittle and taut and on the edge of snapping.

Nancy shoves it all out from her mind as she applauds, most of the Slytherins around her grumbling instead. Cassie sneers at her, though it lacks the venom she’s seen directed at some others. “This is pathetic, Wheeler. He’s such a Hufflepuff.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Hufflepuffs.”

Cassie hums doubtfully. “I just want you to know that I disapprove.”

Nancy sends her a flat look. “Believe me, I’ve registered that.”

“Good,” she sniffs.

“Do you ever approve of anything, though?”

Cassie seems to genuinely consider the question, her head tilting slightly before her features twist into a self-satisfied smirk. “No, I don’t.”

Nancy suppresses a smile, rolling her eyes instead. Hufflepuff wins, and everyone around her is suitably annoyed about it. Steve doesn’t press the issue, though she sends him a subtle thumbs up and his face splits wide open with his grin. His hair is windswept, a rosy flush covering his high cheekbones, but Nancy spends more time thinking about the intricate rhythm of the Quidditch match than anything about Steve. The flashes of yellow and green, the resounding rumble and cheers of the ground, the biting winter air across her cheeks. Even for Hogwarts, there’s something magic about Quidditch.

Steve invites her to an afterparty in the Hufflepuff common room, but even if she knows him and Robin, she isn’t naive enough to think that going into another house would go well. She turns him down as gently as she can, something pulling at her chest when he pouts at her, but she spots Robin over his shoulder, giving the two of them the stink eye, her whole face brightened by the force of her smile.

She’s not sure why it isn’t the grin that Steve had given her after he won that Nancy remembers later, but instead the stupid goofy smile that Robin had, disarming and disorientating.

————

Late into second term, with exam prep and revision making Nancy feel like her brain might melt and drip out of ears, Robin looks up at her from her own parchment during one of their study sessions and lets out a large enough sigh to make her raise her own gaze. “Merlin, Robin, I didn’t realise I was that bad as company.”

Robin grins, rakish and charming and sheepish all in one. A walking contradiction, it seems, and one that Nancy still can’t pin down. “Nope, it’s the books and the notes, I promise.”

“Right.”

Silence falls over them again, comforting and companionable. Robin is the only person other than Cassie that she can focus around, even if it’s different. Cassie sits with her in easy silence which lasts until they’re ready to wrap up or need to clarify something with the other. Studying with Robin is more like sitting through a barrage of chatter that Nancy has been explicitly told she can tune out or just hum along to in agreement. It’s strange the way that it helps her, especially when Robin seems to know just when to do enough to bring her out of her own head and focus on the real world.

“Nancy?”

Like now, apparently.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think anything more is sticking in my head today. And you could ace these exams blindfolded and in your sleep. Probably both. At the same time.”

Nancy laughs, raising an eyebrow at the bashful look on Robin’s face, the same one she always gets when she’s going to say something she knows Nancy will need talking around to. “What do you want?”

“Nothing!” Robin insists, even if her false innocence is far from convincing. “I just think we could do with a break. Maybe not a walk in the halls, though.”

“What, like, in the grounds?” Nancy shifts nervously at the thought. It’s getting close to curfew and she may not be harassed in the halls as much since her performance in Duelling Club, but she didn’t want to invite problems by losing points for Slytherin too often.

Robin shakes her head though, a lopsided smile cracking through her feeble mask. “Nah, I was thinking something a bit more subtle.”

Nancy narrows her eyes at her suspiciously, but relents easily enough. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like Robin is going to be the one to lock her in a broom cupboard again. Robin grins at her as she sighs, straightening her cuffs as the taller girl leads her out of the library. She’s not sure what to expect, but she’s still surprised when Robin takes her only a couple of steps away to the painting of Basil Fronsac.

“What are we doing?” Nancy tries to ask, but Robin shushes her quickly.

“Studious success,” she enunciates to the painting, Nancy’s eyebrows climbing up her face when it swings open to reveal a passageway. It’s not that wide, but enough for the two of them to step in, Robin helping her over with only a small blush on her cheeks.

The stone is cold, but Nancy doesn’t mind so much as the two of them slide down the wall to sit down, leaning against it. She can see why Robin decided to bring her here: it’s strange, but she already feels a little looser out of the eyes of anyone, just here with her friend. Now that they’re in the tunnel, the passageway only illuminated by the soft glow of her Lumos Charm, Robin seems more awkward, shifting uncomfortably as she struggles to quite make eye contact with her. Nancy isn’t sure, but it almost seems like the other girl is flushing. She blushes herself, staring at her feet instead. That would be stupid to assume.

“So, what have I been recruited for that this level of security is needed?” She cracks hesitantly, glad when Robin sputters out a laugh, her usual eye-crinkling grin returning in full force.

“Well, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to tear yourself away from the books for just one minute.” She affects a strange deep and serious voice when she says the first part, almost like she’s quoting something or doing an impression. Nancy gives her a curious look and Robin huffs an amused sigh, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “I suppose you have no idea what Mission Impossible is, huh?”

“No,” Nancy laughs gently, nudging Robin softly with the edge of her shoulder. “Is it a Muggle thing?”

Robin makes a frustrated noise, blowing the edges of her hair away from her face absently. Nancy thinks she maybe shouldn’t focus as much on the habit as she does. “I mean, yes. Do you know what television is?”

Nancy shakes her head, her smile only growing at the way that Robin rolls her eyes again.

“Yeah, I should have known the answer to that. No one else has got my references yet.”

“So, what’s a television?” Nancy tries, nudging Robin again, though she doesn’t pull away again this time. She has to echo the other girl’s pronunciation carefully, and it earns her an absently fond look. Robin tuts as she thinks, and she isn’t sure if the other girl notices the way that she leans closer into Nancy, but she’s glad for it either way. The tunnels are draughty, and the taller girl is unreasonably warm.

Robin’s expression clears, satisfaction lining her features instead as she turns back to face Nancy. “Alright, so you know how you guys have moving paintings and photographs here?” When Nancy nods, she ploughs onward. “Well, in the Muggle world, photographs don’t move. So, in order to make something called video, we take loads of photographs really quickly of the same thing and play it all together back to back until it shows movement. Television is that but shown to lots of people purposely. Kind of like a radio show but with pictures.”

Nancy considers the concept before shrugging. It sounds odd but not unfamiliar enough for her to turn her nose up. “Alright. Got it. Television is a video show.”

“Exactly. And there used to be one specific television show that had that quote every time. ‘Your mission, should you choose to accept it’. It was a show about a spy. Spoiler alert, he always accepted the mission.”

Nancy laughs, knocking her knee into Robin’s, the other girl’s answering grin blinding even in the darkness of the tunnel. “Okay. I don’t know if I fully understand, but I think I know what you’re talking about. So, that was a joke? Quoting the television?”

Robin grins, shrugging as she nods. “I mean, I guess so. Makes me feel like it was a bad one when I had to explain the whole concept of television for you to get it.”

“I mean, maybe just the wrong audience,” Nancy offers, smiling when Robin accepts it with a shake of her head. “Was probably a great joke.” They sit in silence for a couple of beats, Nancy scuffing her shoes against the stone floor, before she finally gets the guts to ask what is on the tip of her tongue. “Do they bother you for being a muggleborn?”

Robin’s expression turns very weary very quickly. It’s like there had been a break in the clouds, the sun shining through brightly enough to make everyone forget about the storm still lingering until the grey cloud covers it over once more. “I mean, other houses do, I guess. A lot of Slytherins, though mainly the ones who are looking for excuses to be assholes to anyone.”

Nancy can’t help but wince all the same. She looks down at her green trimmed robes, glad that it all seems dimmer and dustier in the darkness of this tunnel. Robin gives her a smile anyway, weak and shaky, but a smile all the same.

“Hufflepuffs has a lot of muggleborns, though. Guess that doesn’t help the whole reputation, though. Kind of rough to be a Puff and a Mudblood.”

“Hey!” Nancy snaps, a sudden flush running through her. “Not that.”

Robin acquiesces easily, holding her hands up. “You know what I’m saying.”

She relents. “Yeah. I just don’t like it when people call my friend slurs, even if they’re that same friend.” She nudges Robin as well, just for good measure, and something in her chest fills with warmth at the soft smile she earns in return. “Well, if there’s anyone you want me to embarrass the way I did with Tommy Hagan, you just let me know.”

Robin laughs, an abrupt sound that seems almost punched out of her in surprise. “Yeah, don’t think I forgot how terrifying that was.”

Nancy shrugs, pretending she can’t feel her cheeks flushing bright red. It’s not in embarrassment though: the tail end of something too sharp to be called warmth curls in her chest, and she knows she’s pleased. It’s nice to be known, she tells herself, nice to be respected. “Anyway. Offer stands for whenever you need it. Never expires and replaced as soon as redeemed.”

Robin snorts. “You’re not so tough after all, are you, Wheeler?” The outraged noise that Nancy lets out only makes Robin’s grin grow. “You’re a secret softie?”

“I have no idea what you could possibly mean,” she informs the other girl primly, even if she’s half-laughing at Robin’s loud guffaw.

When she calms down, though, the glint of curiosity in Robin’s eyes makes Nancy hesitate. “Whatever happened with Tommy anyway? Why’d you go so harsh on him?”

“He’s an asshole,” Nancy counters, shrugging. Robin gives her a flat look.

“Agreed, but there was something more there.”

“Nope.”

“Dirty liar,” Robin retorts, a spark of satisfaction in her voice and Nancy folds.

She grins at her, drawing her knees up to chest and resting her folded arms over them, balancing her chin on top of it all. “Alright, but only because you felt so bad about your television joke.”

Robin grumbles under her breath, wrinkling her nose in protest, but she shifts so she’s looking fully at Nancy. It feels strangely difficult to admit the truth about what happened, to let someone else understand just how weak Nancy is underneath all of her bluster and Defence studying and prissy primness.

“Him and Carol locked me in a broom cupboard,” she eventually says shortly, the words clipped. She very pointedly doesn’t look in Robin’s direction, but she sees the way that her face falls anyway. “So, I embarrassed him in front of the whole school and proved that, outside of that one incident where I was caught by surprise, I have his number.”

Robin nods, staying quiet for a moment before she shifts, leaning back against the chalky stone of the passage wall. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long were you locked in the cupboard?”

Nancy shrugs, feeling her blush climb high over her cheekbones. “I mean, I’m not sure. Maybe a couple of hours. I think they wanted me to be in there all night, but a prefect found me. They had taken my wand otherwise it wouldn’t have been an issue.”

“I’ll kill them,” Robin counters, something burning and brittle and bristling underneath her cool countenance.

Nancy is surprised by the laugh it draws out of her. “Don’t worry. I can fight my own battles. Steve is enough to deal with. Idiot thinks he can be my knight in shiny white armour.”

Robin snickers, giving her an incredulous look. “Well, that’s stupid. You may seem prissy at first glance, but it would take a real dingus not to understand how terrifying you are now. I want to kill them because you’re my friend, not because I don’t think you can do it yourself.”

“Much appreciated,” Nancy quips, laughing at the way that Robin shrugs shamelessly.

A strange peaceful kind of quiet settles over them until Robin gives her a rueful twist of a smile. “Always knew he was a prick.”

Nancy laughs, a strange rush of air and sound and joy that she didn’t even know that she had in her. Her fingers scratch at the stone she’s sat on, the dust of thousands of years collecting underneath her fingernails, and Nancy suddenly feels both so small and so large at the same time. Robin gives her a soft smile, not the kind that makes her think she knows what she’s thinking, but the kind that makes her chest curl up with affection all the same.

“How did you even find out about this place?” She asks, feeling a sudden need to change the subject building up inside of her. Robin shrugs, not looking surprised by the question. At least Nancy’s reputation serves her well.

“One of the older years, Imra, told me about it. Said it was a good way to not get caught after curfew. I guess I was losing too many points by sneaking around.”

Nancy’s reproachful look is surely ruined by the sheer scale of amusement playing across her face, but Robin pretends to look cowed anyway. “Why are you sneaking about?”

Robin sighs. “I don’t know. Restlessness? Curiosity? Homesickness? It wasn’t so bad last year when I was just glad to be away from home, but now it feels like there’s this whole world at the edge of my reach and I’m only being fed it drip by drip.”

It makes sense to Nancy, enough that she doesn’t press the issue of Robin’s home life. She’s not sure if the other girl even really meant to mention it, but Nancy can’t help the way that she notes it down in the back of her mind, ingrained forever as something to circle back to. They never really talk about the muggle world, or Robin’s life there. She knows enough to not bring it up herself, sees the worry and dread in her eyes whenever she has to go home.

“Well, I guess that’s fair. Magic castle and all,” she says instead, laughing softly at the lopsided smile Robin gives her in return.

“Exactly. So, thank you, Imra, for making this magic castle even more cool and magical through secret passages.”

Nancy snickers, shaking her head in fond exasperation. “I’m pretty sure there’s loads of the things. No one knows where they are. That’s the only issue, but most people know they exist.”

Robin pretends to pout, swatting Nancy softly on the arm. “Stop ruining my excitement.”

“Of course,” Nancy nods, feigning being chastised as she raises her hands in surrender. “My bad.”

Robin laughs softly, eyes crinkling and nose screwed up as she looks at her. Nancy feels something in her shift, affection settling in her like a weight on her chest. Something about it makes her feel off balance and disoriented. She clears her throat roughly, rising to her feet and grabbing her wand from the floor where they had been using it as a torch. Robin looks up at her, confused, but Nancy can’t quite meet her eyes for some reason.

“We should probably get back to our dorms. I think it’s curfew soon.”

Robin nods, though there’s a flicker of something else in her expression. She stands up, wringing her hands together absently. “Yeah, of course. Uh, sorry about all of this, I just thought that you would want a break or something and this way, no one would be able to see or hear us so-”

Nancy cuts her off, that brittle feeling in her chest growing looser as she manages to send Robin a calming smile. “Don’t worry. It was fun. Nice talking, you know.”

“Yeah,” the other girl agrees, though she still seems on edge as she swings the portrait open, craning her neck to look for anyone lingering in the halls. Nancy does the same, glad to find them blessedly empty. She hikes her bag over her shoulder, grateful that the two of them had packed their things before they left the library. The Slytherin dungeons are in the complete opposition to the Hufflepuff dorms, so she gives Robin a tentative smile, one that the other girl meets with her own uncertain grin.

“I’ll see you soon,” Nancy manages, not sure why her chest feels so tight and knotted together, but Robin doesn’t press. She just nods, giving her a small wave as she turns down the corridor, her footsteps echoing slightly off the old stone as she makes her way to the Hufflepuff area. It’s only just before curfew, so Nancy has to rush to get to the dungeons in time, but she can’t stop herself from lingering, just a little, just until Robin’s faded from view. Then, finally, she shakes herself out of whatever funk she’s in, turning around and heading for the stairs.

The whole walk back, she finds herself thinking of the way that pale blush had dusted over Robin’s high cheekbones, her jaw finally beginning to sharpen a little as she hits her growth spurt. Nancy’s not sure why it makes her feel so off-kilter, or why the thought of how she had coaxed her out of the library makes her smile to herself, wide and giddy and uncontrollable.

At least until she swings the door to the common room open and has to school her face into her usual blank expression once more.

————

Once more, the school year rushes to a close. Nancy buries herself in exams and studying and pretending that she isn’t dreading returning to the cold halls of the Wheeler house just as much as she dreads waking up in the cold halls of the Slytherin house. It feels neverending, but Robin and Barb and Cassie make it better. Nancy knows that anything more is too much to ask for, more than she would deserve. Especially when Tommy and Carol leave her mainly alone, save for a sneer or two and a snide comment in the halls. Robin mean mugs them every time that she overhears, and Nancy can never quite stifle her smile.

The train ride home feels like hanging off a precipice, her stomach swooping like when she used to fall off her broom when she was still learning to fly. It gives her an uncomfortable feeling, one that everyone in her compartment can read, but no one mentions it. Steve drops in on them, armed with his usual suave smile, and Nancy doesn’t know how to respond to it. She gives him a weak one back, noting the way that Robin rolls her eyes at him instead. Still, the other girl gives him a nod of recognition, the two of them clearly familiar with each other. Steve doesn’t linger long, wishing them all a happy summer and giving Nancy another warm smile, the compartment door slamming closed behind him when he disappears, gone as soon as he had arrived.

Nancy squirms in her seat as Cassie, Robin and Barb all turn to look at her. “Shut up.”

Robin laughs. “I have to go say bye to some other people as well. See you guys next year, though.” It’s mainly directed at Robin. All of them talk and get on, but it’s Nancy who unites everyone in the compartment. She doesn’t blame Robin for bailing to go sit with her real friends, but she appreciates the effort and the warm smile that Robin gives her, unlike Steve’s, makes something in her stomach tighten and twist.

That leaves her with Cassie and Barb, the other Slytherin having taken Nancy up on her offer to help her avoid Joanna and Lucy. “Any plans this summer, you two?” Cassie tries, something tense in the corner of her mouth as she looks between Barb and Nancy. Both of them shrug at the same time, Nancy colouring quickly and looking out of the window to avoid looking at the redhead. They’re still best friends, at least she thinks so, but things have been weird this year. In a strange way, she’s almost looking forward to the summer, if only for the opportunity it may present for the two of them to get back on familiar ground. They have been strange ever since they went to Hogwarts, but home is where they’re used to being, where their friendship began. If anything will help them sort out the new hesitancy and unfamiliarity between them, it’s this summer.

Nancy chances giving her a tentative smile, relieved by the one she gets in return.

“Probably just the same stuff as usual. Preparing my brother for Hogwarts next year,” Nancy groans at the thought. Dealing with Mike and his new apparent intolerance of her is something she’s looking forward to significantly less. Cassie grins at her, something sharp and amused, apparently entertained by the idea. “What about you?”

The other girl gives an elegant one-armed shrug. “Same as usual as well. Helping my family.”

“Ah, yes.” Nancy tilts her head in recognition. Cassie never says anything about it, but she knows what pureblood families can be like. She’s sure that the other girl will be paraded around at parties and dinners, like some prize treasure, much the same as Nancy is. “Well, you know my address if you need to write.”

Cassie gives her a nod. “Appreciated, Wheeler.”

Only her mum is there to meet her at the station, Nancy giving her a tight smile and a loose hug, ducking her head and mumbling some vague answers when she asks how she’s doing.

Halfway through summer, she gets a package from Robin, clumsily wrapped but the patterned paper is a nice touch and Nancy knows enough about her to be able to spot the effort, even if Robin might not want her to.

She tears the attached letter off, absently giving Perrie a scratch under the chin, grinning at the way that he preens. Robin’s familiar scrawl stares back at her, Nancy having long since memorised the lopsided slant and edges of it from hanging out in the library, though she maybe hadn’t realised that until now.

Nancy,

Didn’t forget our conversation. It isn’t television, but it’s a piece of the Muggle world. I know this stuff doesn’t work around magic, but I figure your country manor has a big enough garden you might find a corner where it will work.

See you next year, and let me know what you think.

Robin.

When she tears the paper open, not quite sure what is in store, she certainly doesn’t expect a clunky plastic device to fall into her lap. It’s vaguely box shaped, with a cord wrapped around and some kind of headpiece attached, the fabric of them worn and peeling already. It’s clearly something well loved and used by Robin, and Nancy can almost imagine her with it, though she’s not sure what it really does until she remembers the conversation in the tunnels that Robin must have meant to refer to.

She can’t help but laugh to herself. Further rummaging through the paper reveals a couple of carefully wrapped rectangles, which Nancy eventually figures out how to load into the device, the plastic letter marking it a ‘Walkman’, though she has no idea what that is supposed to mean. She clicks the slot closed, pressing a button randomly and jolting with surprise when music begins to play out of the headphones. Nancy smiles as she gently unwinds the cord keeping them tied to the Walkman, slipping them over her ears and letting the music wash over her.

It’s different to a lot of music in the magical world, though not so much that she doesn’t recognise it. She supposes it’s all a human product, in the end. All based in the same feelings. All about the same sort of stuff. She clicks the device back open, examining the label on the smaller rectangle marked ‘tape’. Robin had sent her a couple of the things, and she spends the rest of the summer listening through them until they wear down slightly, the audio becoming scratchy and muffled. It gives her a strange feeling of grief, but the tapes always make her smile anyway, and she shoves the Walkman under her pillow each night with a secret smile and a swooping feeling in her chest that no one else gets to know about.

Chapter Text

Barb doesn’t talk to her over the summer. Nancy sends letters and asks her parents to talk to Barb’s and does everything she can reasonably think of to make contact with her friend. Eventually, as August starts to wane, she relents, figuring that she’ll see Barb at school anyway. If the other girl didn’t want to talk to her, she couldn’t make her. Barb would just have to answer her questions next time they saw each other. She doesn’t like it, but there’s not much she can do about it. Barb’s parents are unreachable as well, so the stress about Barb just abandoning her turns to real worry about her family, until the day they leave for the train, when Nancy is vibrating with apprehension even more than Mike, who’s thrilled at finally being able to go to Hogwarts. She’s not sure if he’s more excited about getting away from home or getting away from Nancy.

“Take care of your brother,” their mum warns, Mike’s nose already crumpled in distaste at the thought.

“I will,” Nancy promises, her mouth a hard line, pressing the resentment in her chest down. Mike will be fine, she thinks to herself. Mike is the golden child who has done no wrong so far. As long as he’s a Gryffindor, which is almost a certainty, Mike will be just fine. She doesn’t say any of that, watching out of the corner of her eye as her little brother pulls away from both of their parents instead, already looking longingly in the direction of his friends.

Something in her chest constricts at the sight, and she tunes out the rest of her mum’s speech in favour of scanning the crowd for familiar strawberry blonde hair. Barb’s recognisable face fails to greet her, honey hair and a mischievous grin meeting her gaze instead. Nancy averts her eyes before Robin can come over, a flush overtaking her cheeks. She doesn’t want to talk to Robin, she tells herself. She doesn’t want to talk to any of them. She settles firmly into an empty compartment, hating the flicker of hope that rises in her chest every time that someone walks past the door and hating the growing sting of disappointment every time that Barb doesn’t slide the door open, peering in with a bashful smile and explanation for why she hasn’t given Nancy any sign of life in weeks.

Cassie finds her sitting alone and settles down easily into the seat opposite her. “No Holland?” She asks conversationally, though she doesn’t push for an answer when she sees the way that Nancy stiffens. “Right,” she says instead, quickly pushing on to ask how Nancy’s summer had been.

“Did a lot of flying with my brother. He’s furious that first years can’t try out for Quidditch.”

Cassie laughs. “Familiar Wheeler stubbornness there, then.”

Nancy turns her nose up, raising her chin as daintily as she can. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Filthy liar,” Cassie mutters to herself, rummaging in her trunk for a second before pulling out a portable wizard’s chess set. Nancy grins at the sight, even if it pulls at her heartstrings just a little. Her usual partner is missing. Cassie raises an eyebrow wordlessly, grinning viciously when Nancy nods. “Brilliant. I hope you’ve not gone rusty.”

Nancy snorts. “As if.”

They set up quickly, the two of them very familiar with this routine even if it’s been a few weeks. Cassie wins the coin toss to play white, ignoring Nancy’s resentful glare and grinning wickedly to herself instead. The black pieces groan when they spot Nancy, apparently resigning themselves to being beaten, much to Cassie’s amusement. The girl has only grown more gleefully vindictive over the past two years, but she’s also gotten better at showing it, as well as more emotions. Nancy can’t help but feel some fondness over that.

They’re halfway through the game when Mike comes bursting into their compartment. It takes her a second to register, more focused on gazing dismally down at Cassie’s bishop smashing her rook to pieces. “Nancy!” He huffs out, before taking in the scene before them and turning to her in clear judgement. “Are you really playing chess, of all things? Merlin, you’re boring.”

Cassie laughs even as Nancy scowls. “Can I help you, Michael?”

He turns his nose up at his full name, but whatever had driven him to seek her out clearly was more important than pitching a fit at being embarrassed by his older sister. “Will’s missing. He went to the bathroom but now we can’t find him.”

Nancy looks at him in disbelief. “Mike, we are on a train. It’s a straight line and a moving box. There’s nowhere to get lost. It’s not like he’s wandered off.”

Mike scowls. “Can you just come help please? The others are too scared of the older years to go poking around, so I said I would get you.” The way he says it makes it clear that he’s no more enthusiastic to be asking for Nancy’s help than she is to give it. She sighs, remembering her promise to her mum not more than an hour ago.

“Cassie, don’t you dare even look at my pieces.”

Her queen snorts, her voice like the scraping of stone. “Girlie, you don’t stand a chance either way. She’s already got us beat.”

Mike snorts as Nancy casts a glare at the piece. “Shut up,” she grumbles, repeating it to Cassie as the girl gives her a smug look.

“She has a point, Wheeler. Besides, cheating makes the victory meaningless.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard your lectures on the value of integrity in beating my ass before,” Nancy mutters, more to herself than anything else as she gets up, closing the compartment door firmly behind her.

Mike sends her a look as he starts dragging her down the corridor. “Who was that?”

“My friend,” she bites back, the question grating somehow. “Cassie Chan.” Mike tilts his head, clearly recognising the last name, as he should. “They run in similar circles to us,” she explains absently. “Just slightly darker.”

“Explains why she’s in Slytherin, then,” Mike mutters, cutting himself off with a grunt when she slaps the back of his head.

“I’m in Slytherin, asshole,” she scolds, pretending his glare doesn’t hurt, just a little. She can’t tell if his resentment is a real hatred of her or just the usual little brother schtick. She’s not sure if she wants to find out, happy to assume it's the latter. “Come on, where the hell did you last see Will?”

Mike leads her to the compartment he and his friends had claimed. She opens the door to find herself face to face with a gaggle of eleven year olds, all blinking up at her owlishly.

“Hi Nancy!” Dustin Henderson grins up at her, his toothless and gapped smile bright and beaming.

Nancy sighs. “Hi Dustin.” She notices the addition of two girls with them, surprised that they would want to put up with her brother and his obnoxious friends even for a train ride. It’s the shorter one that catches her attention though, the girl’s dark hair shaved down to nothing more than a fuzzy layer on top of her scalp. The younger girl looks at her, shifty and uncertain, leaning back a little until she’s almost hidden behind the other girl, a fiery redhead already glaring at Nancy. She recognises the shorter girl’s face, though she’s not sure where, until it suddenly clicks.

She’s almost certain that she’s face to face with Jane Ives.

“Hi,” she directs at the two girls. “I’m Nancy, Mike’s older sister.”

The redhead just glares further, whilst Jane nods shyly. Nancy packs her curiosity away, determined to press the issue later. “Alright, so, when did Will wander off?”

“He didn’t wander off,” Dustin protests. “He went to the bathroom like half an hour ago and still hasn’t come back.”

Nancy tries not to scowl at them. “So, what, you think he fell in?”

Mike whacks her firmly in the arm. “You’re not funny. Will you just help us, please?” He stares up at her, more angry than pleading, and she’s tempted to tell him that this really isn’t the way to get people to help him out, but she’s practically agreed when she’s here already.

“Only because it’s Will,” she concedes. He is the least obnoxious of her brother’s friends, after all. “Plus, this might get Jonathan to owe me a favour,” she mutters to herself before she catches the sheepish look on her brother’s face. She tries to tamp down on the frustration that burns in her chest but she knows it bleeds through a little as she fixes him with a glare and gets out a clipped, “did you even think to see if he was with his brother, Mike?”

None of the kids meet her eye.

“I will actually kill you, I don’t care what our parents say about it,” she threatens, her brother dodging out of the way of her glare as the boys all get up. “Are you two staying here?” She directs to the two girls.

“Yeah,” Mike rushes to answer for them, something shifty in the way that they all glance at each other, but Nancy is too annoyed to investigate the secrets of a bunch of children. “They’ll save our compartment. Do you know where Jonathan is?”

She sighs, resigning herself to having an escort of eleven year old boys before starting the long walk back down the train. She’s pretty sure she caught sight of Jonathan earlier on the platform and had seen the compartment he and his Ravenclaw friends had ducked into.

“Yeah, I think he’s just up here,” she directs, corralling the group. Sure enough, after one false start, she finds the compartment, Jonathan’s curious face greeting her when she knocks on the door.

“Nancy,” he says, sounding a little surprised. It’s fair, considering the fact that they haven’t talked much at Hogwarts, but their brothers have been friends for so long that they’re more than familiar with each other. He opens the door a little further and, sure enough, Will Byers is sitting with him. He looks pale and withdrawn, more than a little shaky as he stares out the window, yet to realise his friends are pushing to enter the compartment. Nancy shoves them back with an arm, shooting them a warning look as she turns back to Jonathan.

“Hey,” she greets, already feeling tired. “Sorry about this. My brother got convinced Will had managed to go missing on a moving train, so asked me to help find him. I figured he would be with you. Is everything okay?”

Jonathan cracks the door open wider, Mike crowing with triumph when he spots Will. The younger Byers snaps to look at them all, smiling as he notices his friends. He gets to his feet, letting Mike pull him back out of the compartment, though he shoots Jonathan one last look that feels heavier than Nancy would have expected. The group of boys disappear quickly down the corridor, heading back to their own compartment.

Nancy gives Jonathan a weary smile as she turns back to look at him, unnerved by the pensive look on his face. “Hey, are you okay?” She asks again, unsurprised when Jonathan sighs.

“I think Will is just nervous,” he says, and it’s not really an answer, but she’s not close enough with Jonathan to press, so she accepts it with a shrug.

“Yeah, he looked a little sick. Is he scared about the Sorting or just going to school?”

“I think all of it. But my mum won’t care when he ends up, and he’s as Hufflpuff as they come.”

Nancy snorts. The Byers brothers were quite easy to pigeonhole after all. Then again, people had thought that about the Wheelers. “I suppose that’s true,” she admits, giving him one last smile before she turns to leave. She stops at the last second though, catching the door right before he closes it. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Barb, have you?” The two were friendly enough. She is really grasping at straws here, but she has to try.

Jonathan’s expression crumples with confusion. “No? You’re more likely to than me. Is she okay?”

Nancy shrugs ruefully. “Just haven’t gotten any letters from her this summer. I’m sure she’s just sick or something and will turn up at school soon enough.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jonathan nods, though he’s frowning now. “I’ll let you know,” he assures her, and Nancy feels a strange wash of appreciation for him.

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to having my ass handed to me by Cassie.”

Jonathan laughs. “You’re never going to win,” he warns her, familiar with the competition between the housemates, and Nancy scowls to herself.

“She’s the one person I can’t beat. I’ll manage it eventually.”

Jonathan hums doubtfully, but bids her good luck as he closes the compartment door. Nancy stands there for a second longer, thinking about the way that Will had looked so pale, before dismissing it. He is with his friends now, and there’s no one who would look out for him more than Mike, with the exception of Jonathan, who is clearly already aware. There’s nothing Nancy can do. She heads back to Cassie, grinning at the untouched board.

“Crisis averted?” Her friend checks, closing the book she had cracked open in Nancy’s absence.

She snorts. “Well and truly. The idiots hadn’t even checked with his brother, which is exactly where he was.”

“Well, you can’t judge an eleven year old on their ingenuity.”

“I hate to think that we were that foolish two years ago.”

“Never,” Cassie retorts, raising an eyebrow. “We are Slytherins. That makes us automatically about 25% less foolish than anyone else our age.”

Nancy laughs. They pass the rest of the train ride in either companionable silence as they pour over the chess board, occasionally interrupted by a particularly sassy piece, or chatting lowly about their summers.

Hogwarts welcomes them all back with draughty stone corridors and creaking staircases, the smell of dust and books unmistakable as the castle settles into hosting hundreds of students once more. Despite everything, Nancy is glad to be back. It doesn’t feel like home, not really, but it’s enough. She has the library, the books that she can bury herself in like achieving a top grade is enough to make her worth something, and she has her few friends and it has to be enough.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts,” Headmaster Owens announces, his voice resonant and echoing in the Great Hall. “First, the Sorting.”

He steps aside as Professor Brenner brings forth the Sorting Hat and the familiar wooden stool as always. Nancy looks for Mike, just another little head in the assembled crowd of first years. She spots him easily, though, one of the only kids craning his neck to look at the tables around him instead of the Sorting Hat in front of him. He meets Nancy’s gaze, a flush overtaking his cheeks as he knows he looks nervous. Nancy does her best to send him a comforting look. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been butting heads lately — Mike is still her little brother. It’s her responsibility to look out for him. Besides, he’s a Gryffindor through and through: obnoxious, headstrong, annoying. He’s practically made for that house. He has nothing to worry about.

He has to wait a long time though, and Nancy’s attention quickly wanders as she looks around the Hall. The first year classes grow smaller every year. She’s not stupid: Nancy may only be a third year, but she’s overheard enough from her parents to know that things are getting worse. There’s been rumours of dark wizards on the rise for years, of growing numbers of people going missing, of secrets in the Ministry. It’s been going on for a long time, but it’s getting bad now. Mike suddenly looks so young, all pale skin and jutting bones and awkward limbs. He’s just a little kid.

Nancy swallows the sudden bitterness in her mouth. She looks away from the dwindling crowd of first years, each of them getting sorted one by one and joining their respective houses. She spots Robin from across the room, one of her Hufflepuff friends angled into her, leaning down to whisper into her ear. Nancy feels a sudden rush of irrational heat at the sight. Robin still looks like that awkward kid that she met on the train, that she has known for the past two years, but something’s a little different as well. She supposes that’s reasonable, but something about the change from scrawny to willowy irks her. Even sitting down, it looks like Robin has shot up a couple of inches, her shaggy hair suiting her in a strange way, like an overgrown puppy. Nancy isn’t quite sure what to do with the way that Robin’s eyes crinkle at the edges when they meet her own, the two of them trading nods and smiles, Nancy feeling her face flush with heat as she has to break the contact, her gaze averted back to the floor as Cassie gives her an amused look.

The hush that falls over the Hall when Brenner calls out the name ‘Jane Ives’, the words echoing off the stone, is enough to pull her back to the present. She refocuses on the Sorting, pushing her feelings aside as much as she can as she watches that scrawny little girl from her brother’s compartment step forward, something shaky in her frame. Her hair has been buzzed recently and she’s pale enough to make Nancy think that she hasn’t spent much time outside, but her hands are steady as she grips the stool and her chin doesn’t waver as she stares out over the Hall.

“Did he say ‘Jane Ives’?” Cassie hisses, something gleaming in her eyes. It’s the first time that Nancy has seen her this rattled and it’s almost amusing.

“Yes. She had to come to Hogwarts eventually, Cassie. What, did you think that she was just going to be sequestered away forever?”

Cassie nods, still looking a little stunned. “I suppose so,” she agrees distantly, settling back into her seat even as the whispers around the Hall rage on. Nancy tries not to find it amusing, but it’s difficult not to smile when she spots her brother, glaring fiercely at anyone he can spot who might be gossiping about the girl. It’s just so very Mike of him, though.

The Hat is barely on Jane’s head for a second before it’s calling out Gryffindor, and the table of red and gold truly explodes, half of the students leaping to their feet to clap and holler and stamp in celebration. Nancy snorts, leaning forward to whisper to Cassie. “What did they think it would be? Of course she would be a Gryffindor.”

The other girl laughs under her breath, a rueful expression on her face as she shrugs, the Sorting continuing around them. It takes a long time, but eventually Mike’s name is called. He’s second last, only one other kid lingering in the walkway as he walks up to the stool. He doesn’t look at Nancy, carefully avoiding the Slytherin table entirely as he focuses on looking at the Gryffindors, the sea of red and gold on the edge of their seats as they wait to see if Mike will be another anomaly or if Wheeler tradition will be restored. It’s almost as tense for them as when Jane had been Sorted.

He’s up there for barely more than a handful of seconds, likely a toss-up between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff if the Hat is considering anything else, but Mike’s features contort into a frown under the brim of the Hat. A split-second later, the Hat clears its throat from its mumbling and calls out, “Gryffindor!”, loud enough for the whole Hall to hear. Mike leaps from the stool, grinning from ear to ear, trotting over to the Gryffindor table quite happily.

She watches as he's enveloped by the house, welcomed with claps on the back and wide grins, fitting in with people that are like him, like him in a way that she’ll never be, sister or not. Nancy ignores the pang in her stomach as the Welcoming Feast comes to an end that is borne of an entirely different kind of hunger. She pulls her robes tighter around herself instead, not meeting the curious eyes of any of the new Slytherin students. The dormitory is buzzing with whispers when they finally settle into bed. Nancy draws the curtains around her bed firmly closed and surrounds herself with familiar isolation. She pretends that dungeons don’t feel freezing cold around her as she slips into sleep.

At breakfast, she swallows her pride and her fear and her shame and strides over to the Gryffindor table. She earns more than a few accusatory stares from the entire red and gold crowd, but the first years are young enough and she’s old and superior enough, even at thirteen, to only inspire nerves and intimidation as she stands over the newly-sorted Gryffindors.

“Mike,” she gets out, proud of how even and measured her voice is. Her brother raises his head, still stooped rebelliously, to meet her gaze. She’s not sure if she spots a flash of fury in them. A beat passes as she tries to find the words to say what she means. She’s proud of him, but he has already earned the pride of their whole family line, going back all those generations. He’s the real Wheeler out of the two of them, a lion through and through. She’s a lowly snake. He doesn’t need her to be proud of him. She still feels like she should say it. “Congratulations. On your Sorting,” she says instead, only slightly haltingly.

Mike glares at her, as if she had just spat poison at him. He doesn’t say anything in response, and Nancy eventually turns on her heel, leaving the stifling silence behind her, and she feels his gaze like daggers in her back as she strides back to the Slytherin table and resumes her breakfast as if nothing had happened.

Cassie catches her eye but doesn’t say anything, passing the schedule Hawthorne must have passed around for them whilst she was gone across the table instead. Nancy buries herself in it, pretending that if she plays it cool, no one will be able to tell how much her eyes burn as she fights back tears.

————

“So,” Professor Brenner begins, the chatter of the other students as they wait for the class to begin falling silent, “as I am sure you have all noticed, we now count the famous Jane Ives amongst our ranks at Hogwarts.”

Several kids blanch with surprise, raising their eyebrows. Of course, everyone had been talking about, rumours and whispers and speculation on where she had been all these years swirling through the halls. No one had thought that the professors would actually address it though. Nancy tries not to show her amusement: if anyone would be willing to use this as an opportunity, she isn’t surprised that it’s Brenner.

“This ties in well to one of our topics this year,” Brenner continues, looking over them. “The war.”

A hushed quiet falls, like every breath has been held.

“As I am sure you all know, seeing as I taught you this in first year, eleven years ago, Jane Ives and her mother were attacked. Her mother, Terry Ives, was killed, a pureblood loss that devastated the wizarding world. Jane was assumed dead as well, until it was understood that a secret sect smuggled her out. Vecna himself attacked her next, determined to wipe out the last of the Ives line, a symbolic victory that would have been huge for him. Until the Killing Curse failed to work, rebounding on Vecna himself and destroying him.”

Brenner delivers every word evenly, looking out over the whole class as he does so. It doesn’t matter that he seems to make eye contact with every single student, but Nancy squirms under the suffocating weight of his gaze anyway, feeling like he’s solely looking at her.

“Who can tell me why the Ives had to die?”

It’s a blunt question delivered even more harshly than the words might seem. Everyone flinches. Nancy raises her hand. “The Ives were a small but respected pureblood family. They were also one of the only standing against Vecna’s attempted regime. He had spent years building to take over wizarding Britain and attacking the Muggle world. It would have been an important step.”

Brenner nods, his gaze lingering over her before he moves on. “Absolutely. After Vecna disappeared, his supporters fell apart. His takeover failed. Jane disappeared. But is Vecna really gone? Is the wizarding world outside of his power, his influence? None of his supporters were ever really convicted, only a few lower members. Jane Ives and her reemergence may be the nail in the coffin for Vecna and his Death Eaters.”

Nancy tries not to let the shiver that goes down her spine show. There’s something chilling about the dead cold way that he says the words, the curl to his lip, the undertone to his voice. She shakes it away, keeping her head down and scratching notes on her parchment for the rest of the class, shoving her books into her bag before Brenner can get her to stay after class. She knows he’s expecting her to ask for more books, and she’s not sure she won’t, but the memory of Barb holds her back.

In the halls, Steve catches her leaving class. “Hey, Wheeler,” he greets, something brittle and breakable in his usual self-assured smile. Nancy stiffens at the sight. They haven’t really talked since last year — he had given her his address in case she had wanted to write over summer, but Nancy hadn’t been able to make herself take the first step.

“Steve,” she shoots back, keeping her smile steady even as she has to plaster it across her face. “Everything okay?”

“Still up for studying?”

It’s only a half answer, but Nancy doesn’t press. She shrugs. Something feels different about accepting his offer this year. “You’re still struggling?”

Steve tilts his head, an amused smile stretched across his face. “I’m not exactly a genius, Nance.”

The nickname grates for some reason, even if it never has before. Guilt traces its way down her spine, prickling and painful. Nancy has to swallow hard, has to pull herself together, before she responds. “Sure, if you need. I’ll let you know.”

It’s a plain dismissal. Nancy of last year would have kinder, would have acquiesced, would have gone along with the suggestion because it’s Steve Harrington and he’s nice and harmless enough. Nancy of this year doesn’t have the energy for nice and harmless enough. There’s a voice in her head, sounding suspiciously like Barb, and Nancy can’t help but listen to it. She stands before him, Steve already taller and broader than the year before, Nancy still delicate and slender-boned, and comes to the sudden and appropriately non-earthshattering realisation that she’ll never be what she really wants her to be. Steve at least is able to do her the kindness of realising what she’s thinking, cold understanding gnawing across his features as he nods, something unreadable flitting across his expression.

“Got it,” he gets out, his easy smile not faltering for a second, but Nancy sees through it better than she ever did last year.

She doesn’t know what else to do but give him a nod, pushing past him on her way further down the corridor. Nancy knows that it’s curt and rude, but she can’t meet his gaze anymore, guilt crawling over her skin like suffocating heat. She feels his eyes on her back all the same, gaze heavy and examining, but Nancy doesn’t turn around, swallowing half-formed apologies and telling herself it’s all for the best.

————

Weeks pass with nothing, no sign of Barb. She keeps waiting, despite the festering dread, the knowing voice in the back of her mind. Nancy keeps waiting, like for the other shoe to drop, like for the punchline to a joke she already knows, for Barb to come back.

She never does.

————

It doesn’t take Nancy long to realise that, without Barb, she is essentially alone here. Slytherin is no more a home now than it never was, and the castle feels cold and empty without the flash of familiar strawberry blonde hair. Maybe it would feel better if she had answers to all the questions she has, of where Barb is and why she’s left. At meals, she looks at the way that Robin and Steve, who had become fast friends without Nancy really noticing, angle into each other, ducked heads and hushed conversations. She hadn’t even known that the two of them really knew each other. Last thing she had heard, Robin thought he was an idiot for not thinking that Nancy could stand up for herself at Duelling Club last year. Still, they’re housemates, so it would be stupid to assume that they didn’t talk. Looking at the way that the two of them laugh, Robin hitting him in the chest as she rolls her eyes fondly, it’s clear that Nancy had been in the dark about just how much they did indeed talk. Suddenly, Robin looks up, catching her eye even as Steve laughs at something she’s said. Nancy looks away immediately, wishing she didn’t feel a familiar ache in her chest that she’s becoming far too used to.

It isn’t jealousy. It can’t be, not when she had come to the cold objective conclusion that whatever Steve wanted was something she couldn’t give him. She didn’t feel wrong in that conviction either, though it didn’t fill her with a warm sense of righteousness either when she had to watch the way his face went all pinched and drawn every time that their eyes met before he looks away, like he’s trying to spare her the guilt she more than deserves to feel.

She gives into the loneliness for a while, avoiding everyone, including Cassie. The other girl gives her space without complaint, working in silent tandem with her in classes like usual and leaving books for her when she can but nothing more. Nancy wishes she knew of a way to say thank you, but the words turn to stone on her tongue and taste like ash when she swallows, so she settles for saying nothing at all.

Cassie doesn’t seem to mind.

As cold and pragmatic as it is, Nancy isn’t stupid, though — outside of Cassie, she doesn’t have anyone else to turn to anymore, and Cassie is enough of a black sheep herself that it doesn’t help much either, even if no one really bothers her. Barb had been her only real friend. Cassie is more of a strange ally: as much as she holds sincere affection for the other girl, she’s hard to read most of the time. Nancy hates that she turns out to be the kind of person who realises what position her best friend’s disappearance leaves her in, but she is. She wraps herself in the cold facts of the situation, because Nancy never feels more herself than when she has a problem to solve, and being top of the class brings her as many problems as it does solutions. Sure, it keeps some people off her back, but it opens her up to other avenues of mockery and bullying. It’s not enough anymore, not without her best friend. It only takes her a few days to come up with the solution, and it seems glaringly obvious once it occurs to her, just as the sign posted on the common room bulletin board is: trials for House Quidditch Team at 9 am on Saturday.

No one would be able to bother her too much if she made herself an invaluable part of the house. Slytherins were self-serving, not too callous enough to recognise when something helps them. Being a great student helps them get points but it makes Nancy look good more than the house. If she was on the Quidditch team, however, no one would be able to give her too much grief in public, and she’d be able to weather the rest.

It’s a good plan, she knows it is. The only problem is making sure she can pull it off. She spent enough time this summer flying around with Mike and playing one-on-one versions of the game, an occupational hazard as an older sister even if Mike spends more time rolling his eyes and turning his nose up at her these days. Besides, Nancy has always loved Quidditch. Something about focusing on the physical clears her head more than anything else does. She’s not stupid — she knows she isn’t the best, but she doesn’t have to be. Nancy just has to be good enough.

She owls her parents and her broom arrives at the castle in just enough time for her to make Quidditch tryouts. She eventually figures that she would probably be better suited for Seeker than anything else — bird bones and scrawny limbs aren’t the best qualities for Chasers or Keeper and she doesn’t quite have the strength to be a Beater, but she’s always been faster than other kids on her broom.

Tommy and Carol give her hard looks when she shows up at tryouts, shivering in the fall cold. The autumn air has a bite to it even when it feels like mere days since the oppressive heat of August had been settling over them all. It had been a hot summer, with Nancy complaining more than once at being made to fly around with Mike, sweat tracking down her spine. She’s thankful for it now as she flexes her fingers around the handle of her broom, the wood warm and familiar to the touch. “Merlin, Wheeler, you just keep making it easy for us,” Tommy crows, a vicious look crossing his face. “Do you want to give us free reign to beat the shit out of you for hours?”

Nancy stays quiet, though the cold look she fires their way makes Tommy cower a little, even if Carol snorts with derision and rolls her eyes.

“Enough,” Stephen, the captain, scolds, a stern expression settling over his face. As a seventh year, he’s never had much to do with Nancy, and the look he sends her is more doubtful than hostile. Nancy is fine with that. She’s quite alright with being underestimated — that’s nothing new. She’s prepared for raised eyebrows, for derision. But as long as she gets her chance, Nancy will make it worth it. Silence settles over the assembled crowd, a sea of faces that Nancy recognises and lives alongside. It doesn’t escape her notice that almost all of them are boys. “Chasers first,” Stephen decides eventually, a good half of the hopefuls separating themselves from the crowd at his command. Stephen already fills one of the spots himself, but he makes everyone from the past team tryout once more.

Nancy watches as he gets last year's keeper, a tall quiet boy named Declan, to fly up to the posts. “Five shots each. Whoever gets the most past Dec gets a spot. The other and the back up places go to the other best performers,” Stephen decrees before throwing the Quaffle to the first hopeful. The younger boy’s expression hardens as he nods, kicking off with his broom to fly up to meet the Keeper. He makes two. The next one makes three. Only one person manages four, a fifth year with a flint-like expression in his grey eyes as he shakes Stephen’s hand.

“Beaters next. Moorehead, stick around and give them something to aim at. Liu, too.”

The two Chasers nod as Tommy and Carol step forward, eyes gleaming with cruel excitement. A couple of others try out for Beater as well, each of them going up one at a time to face the single Bludger that Stephen had released. Nancy watches the force with which Tommy and Carol hit the Bludger, the crack of the bat loud and resounding through the empty Quidditch arena. The two of them keep their spots on the team, the mean glints in their eyes enough to make Nancy think that, even if she makes the team, it might not be the easiest experience.

She doesn’t let herself crumble, taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves as Stephen asks for the Seekers to come forward. Slytherin’s old Seeker just graduated, so there’s quite a few hopefuls for the position. Nancy watches, her heart pounding in her chest, as kids older and stronger than her try out, swooping through the air on their broom after the Snitch like they’ve spent years preparing for this moment. Once it’s Nancy’s turn, her fingers have started to go numb around the shaft of her broomstick, but she’s so sure that this is what she wants, bullying aside. She likes Quidditch, always has. If it gets her more respect, great, but something familiar sings through her blood as she rises in the air, muscle memory taking over. Stephen looses the Snitch, the small golden ball whizzing through the air, the high-pitch buzzing of its fluttering wings so quiet that she’s sure no one but her can hear it as it rushes over her head. She doesn’t even have to think before she’s digging her legs in, flying after it as fast as she possibly can. The Snitch is barely more than a gold blur in the air, moving faster than her eyes can track, but she spots the glint of metal just seconds after she’s sure that she’s lost it.

Nancy knows that she’s small and easy to underestimate. She knows she doesn’t fit in Slytherin, no matter what the Sorting Hat had claimed. But this, she can do. Here, she can belong, if people can respect her skill for what it gives them in turn. And what she lacks in size, she more than makes up for with speed and agility and a reckless confidence that she can do this.

She dives, the broom thrumming with energy beneath her grip as she pulls up barely inches from one of the stands, the metal of the Snitch cold in her clenched fists.

Nancy returns to the thinned crowd, just Stephen, the accepted members of the team and the rest of the hopeful Seekers watching her. Several of her housemates fix her with hateful glares as she presses the Snitch into Stephen’s hand, but the captain just looks at her carefully, a schooled blank expression on his features.

“Again,” he commands, barely giving Nancy a second to catch her breath, chest still heaving, as he releases the little golden Snitch once more. She knows there’s no point in protesting, not when no one else has been asked to repeat the drill. She knows a test when she sees one. Wordlessly, she rises in the air once more, autumn wind stinging her eyes as she scours the pitch. It only takes her a minute to spot the fluttering ball around the hoops at the other end of the field. Stephen’s face is still unreadable when she returns with it once more, but he doesn’t ask her to do it again.

“I’ll post the full team list in a few days. Still got a couple things to think about,” he tells them, before walking away. Nancy tries not to bristle. He’s already awarded most of the positions. The only ones not filled yet are Seeker and one of the Chasers, as well as some back-up spots. He’s clearly waiting for her to give up or only just thinking over whether to admit her, but Nancy isn’t stupid. She knows she shouldn’t push. So, keeping her expression as unreadable as possible, she slings her broom over her shoulder and starts the long walk back to the castle. She gets less jeers aimed at her back than she had expected. She tries not to take that as a sign of things to come.

Two days later, Nancy breathes a sigh of relief that she hadn’t realised she was holding in when she spots her name on the team list, officially naming her Slytherin’s newest Seeker. There’s some snickers throughout the common room, Tommy loudly declaring that she wouldn’t last a single match. Pressure builds in Nancy’s chest until it feels like her ears might pop, but she doesn’t say a word as she raises her chin and strides out of the room. They can say what they like in the common room. None of them are stupid enough to hassle her too much in the halls now, or to do anything that might injure her like last year. They wouldn’t want to risk being embarrassed by the other houses.

Nancy feels weight fall off her shoulders as she rolls them back. Her lungs fill a little more, her chest marginally less tight than it has been. Maybe she’ll be okay. Till Barb gets back. Because she will, Nancy tells herself. She’ll be back.

————

It’s only a few weeks into the first term, the end of September swiftly approaching, when the dead body is found. Hogwarts is a big castle, but there’s enough students passing through its halls that it’s not a surprise that a crowd finds the girl, strewn carelessly in the middle of the hallway like an abandoned toy, between classes.

Nancy hadn’t even known the girl. She thinks she was in Hufflepuff, remembers seeing her joke around with Robin a couple of times, but there’s no humour in her hollowed out eye sockets now, her limbs shattered in so many places that they are strewn awkwardly around her torso at an angle that make Nancy’s stomach turn. Her jaw is shunted to the side, broken in a way that makes it look like she has died frozen in a scream, something harrowing in the way that it hangs soullessly open. The bile that she swallows down burns like acid in her throat, but it's better than emptying her stomach the way that one of the Ravenclaws does.

“Fucking Merlin,” she hears someone swear, a kid she doesn’t know. The whole crowd of them is a motley mix of years and houses, people who just happened to be crossing in the same hallway on their way to class. Still, they linger together now, shoulder to shoulder in a shifting crowd frozen in horrified indecision “Someone needs to get a professor.”

Footsteps echo against flagstones, Nancy’s head snapping up to see Hopper, eyebrows drawn into a thunderous scowl already as he pushes his way through the crowd of students. Apparently he had beaten them to it.

“Get out of here, everyone,” he barks, students scattering as he waves his hand, his robes billowing around him. Nancy holds her ground for just the barest second, unable to quite tear her eyes away from the sight of the body broken and discarded in the middle of the corridor, but a half second later, Hopper has conjured a white sheet, the fabric draping delicately over the corpse. She has no idea what kind of magic could do that to a person — certainly nothing that she’s ever seen or read about so far.

She spends the rest of the day thinking about it, as she is sure most people do. The rest of the castle is abuzz with gossip and rumours about who could have done it and tension settles over the student body. As far as they know, a murderer is the castle and hasn’t been caught, and no one knows who it could be.

No one seems to be thinking about the magic, though.

Brenner gives her a long look when she knocks on the door of his classroom before dinner. Nancy shifts her weight between her feet, uncomfortable under the knowing weight of his gaze and his eyebrow ticks upwards as he seems to read her mind.

“How can I help you, Miss Wheeler?” He presses anyway, taking his glasses off as he looks up from the essays he’s marking. Nancy bites at the inside of her cheek as she hesitates, Professor Brenner’s knowing look pulling at something in her stomach.

“The body that they found. Chrissy.” Nancy eventually manages to get out. She had found out her name from the rumours. Brenner hums as he looks at her, that familiar evaluative stare seeming to laser straight through her. “What kind of magic could do that?”

His face ticks as he absorbs the question, the corner of his mouth twitching. “A good question, Miss Wheeler. Everyone else is focusing on who. It is good to understand the how.” He pauses, mulling over his words before he elaborates. “Certainly no magic that we teach at Hogwarts.”

“Dark magic, then?” Nancy presses, though it feels a stupid question.

Brenner clearly agrees as his mouth twists into a sly smile. “Miss Wheeler, surely you don’t think that whatever did that to that student was light magic?”

Her face burns as she shakes her head. “How, then? How could someone in the castle do that?” They’re all students here, after all. It doesn’t matter how magically capable some of them are: to find magic like that seems beyond any teenager’s capability.

Brenner tilts his head. “Another good question, Miss Wheeler, one that I don’t have an answer for.”

She resists the urge to scowl. Not an entirely fruitful endeavour, then, but at least she got some half-answers. She swallows as she stares at the man before her, his expression still mild and unperturbed as if they were discussing any other piece of magic. There’s a slight angle to his mouth, a hint of amusement that sends a chill through her. It’s like he thinks this is a game. Nancy suppresses a shudder. She’s always found him intimidating, but it’s just now that she sees why Barb was always so put-off by him. Cold fingers of fear, of what she isn’t sure, creep along her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “How can we stop it?” Nancy asks eventually, Brenner raising an eyebrow as if this was an entirely out of character question. “If it happens again, how does one stop it?”

Professor Brenner smiles, the indulgent expression of someone used to answering questions from a child, but also the one of someone who knows more than they mean to let out. “I don’t believe it can be stopped, Miss Wheeler,” he says, final and firm. Nancy gapes at him and he tilts his head once more, sighing as if admitting a great shortcoming. “Well, perhaps, but it would be a feat of magic I’ve never seen before.”

“Right,” she confirms, swallowing hard. “So, what do we do?”

Brenner’s eyes gleam, flinty and hard and cold as he leans forward. “Why, Miss Wheeler, we wait. And see if it happens again.”

Nancy nods, pretending that she doesn’t feel a chilling dread pool in her stomach, that she doesn’t feel the cold grasp of a fist of ice around her heart. She thinks of all the times that Brenner has been kind to her, of the way that Barb had warned her, his manner exactly the same as they discuss the horrific murder of a student no more than a year older than her. “Right,” she echoes, her jaw locking slightly as she bites her tongue. “Thank you for answering my questions, sir,” she says, but it’s like she’s been removed from her body, her mouth working on auto-pilot as she files the interaction in the back of her mind, something to think over.

“Of course,” Professor Brenner smiles, mild and even. “And we must hope that nothing more comes of it.”

Nancy ducks her head as she nods, not sure that she can meet the man’s eyes. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

The echoing thud of the classroom door closing behind her as she makes a hasty exit fills her with relief, though she doesn’t stop feeling the weight of Brenner’s eyes on her until hours later, long after she has hidden herself in the stacks of the library, after she has lost herself in the crowds at dinner in the Great Hall, after she has shut herself firmly behind the curtains of her bed in the Slytherin dorms.

She’s still feeling disoriented by it at breakfast the next morning. Her own problems seem trivial. It feels childish and churlish to care about what had seemed so important only the day before when someone was dead. Horrifically murdered. Maybe that’s why she flinches when Robin drops heavily into the seat next to her at the Slytherin table, ignoring the mutters and dirty looks from Nancy’s housemates.

“Alright, Wheeler?” She presses easily, that same disarming smile plastered across her face. Nancy stares at her, not sure why she feels so caught off guard. Something in Robin’s expression falters at her silence, her thumbnail digging into the old scarred and pockmarked wood of the Slytherin House table. “I hear you’re Slytherin’s newest seeker,” Robin says eventually. Nancy sends her a brittle look. Quidditch feels like the furthest thing from a priority now. Someone is dead and she can’t help but think about the missing flash of strawberry blonde at the Ravenclaw table. Barb is still missing, and the longer she goes without hearing from her friend the more convinced she is that she isn’t going to turn up at all. She feels like she’s living on a knife point angling off the edge of a precipice, ready to tip either way.

“Yeah,” Nancy gets out, her jaw locked. “What, you scoping out Hufflepuff’s competition?”

Robin hums, shrugging eventually before getting up. “I just wanted to say congratulations, Nancy. Nothing else.” She gives her a wan smile, shrugging a little as Nancy looks up at her, before turning away.

The other girl is already walking off before Nancy can think of anything to say to that. She blinks owlishly, watching Robin’s retreating back, Steve catching up to her before long, slinging an arm across her shoulders. He whispers something that makes both of them grin, twin gleaming smiles, and Nancy bristles.

She doesn’t need Robin’s false well-wishes or her farce of concern. Nancy doesn’t need anything from either of them. It doesn’t matter that it’s her who pushed them away — the sight of their turned backs hurts either way. Besides, she tells herself as the hurt sharpens, they’re better off without her. She hurt Steve and, clearly, him and Robin are close. She’s sure that she won’t want much to do with her either way.

Over the next few days the rampant gossip gives way to real grief, a subdued air settling over Ravenclaw in particular, the castle reeling and settling instead into quiet tension, no one sure what will come of the investigation. Everyone can see the discussions between the staff, Hopper leading it all with his characteristic heavy frown. For once it feels appropriate. After Chrissy’s death, attendance at Duelling Club ramps up. Everyone wants to know whatever they can about defending themselves. Nancy has never seen so many people pay attention during Brenner’s lectures.

After last year, Tommy and Carol settle for glaring at her across the room mostly. A couple of times, Tommy tries to hassle her, but, the first practice back, Nancy makes sure to put on a particularly vicious and effective show in her duel, and Tommy backs off.

People talk, voices hushed and controlled, and Nancy is surprised to hear how often Jane Ives’ name comes up. They cast suspicion on her and question whether she was the real target in equal measure. It makes sense — it’s not like there had been any murders at Hogwarts in the years before. The arrival of one of the most infamous figures in the wizarding world and the brutal murder of another student seem like things that should be linked, even if Nancy finds the idea of the shy and reserved little girl hurting anyone unbelievable. She notices the way that Mike shields her, standing between anyone that might accuse her of anything. Jane has been well and truly absorbed into his friendship group, alongside the redheaded girl who doesn’t leave her side.

Eventually, though, the rumours die down and life goes back to normal, hesitantly and haltingly, but the shadows in the school feel longer, the bone-chilling cold of the stone castle seeming to settle deeper into everyone. In the midst of the solemn and withdrawn atmosphere, no one notices the way that little Will Byers shrinks in on himself as the weeks go on, pale and shivering and skittish.

Like prey being stalked and watched and hunted, aware of the predator’s eyes on its back even from the shadows.

————

“Hey, Nancy,” Jonathan Byers greets her as he leans awkwardly on the shelf by her table in the library. She looks up, confusion likely showing on her face as she looks him over. She’s friendly enough with him, but he’s never approached her like this before.

“Hey, Jonathan. Everything okay?” She asks, something in her chest twisting when he shakes his head, blushing bashfully.

He clears his throat, brushing down the front of his robes absently, as if he’s just realised that his tie is uneven and one of his cuffs is unbuttoned. Nancy smiles despite herself at the sight. “Yeah. Uh, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?”

That twisting feeling in her chest curls tighter as she takes in his hopeful expression, a sheepish smile pulling at his features even as nerves gleam in his eyes. She’s just about to turn him down as gently as she can when she spots something over her shoulder that makes her stomach churn: Steve leaning on Robin, the two of them laughing to each other in that familiar way of theirs, Robin pushing him away playfully, grinning as they come back together like magnets. Nancy swallows hard, refusing to acknowledge even to herself the way that her hands curl into fists beneath the cover of the desk. She focuses back on Jonathan, still standing and waiting, and she finds herself smiling without really thinking about it. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. We can figure out a time to walk down later. Want to study with me?” She gestures to her laid out books.

Jonathan grins, even if he hides a laugh at her familiar studiousness. “I swear you should have been in Ravenclaw.”

Nancy’s smile goes steely. “Maybe,” she concedes stiffly, Jonathan completely unaware of the way that her stomach tightens. “Have you done the Potions essay?”

He groans, dropping his head into his hands, and Nancy can’t help but laugh. They settle into an easy rhythm, Jonathan piling his books and parchment and quill out onto the table. Their belongings mix easily until she’s not sure if the book she’s picked up for further research is hers or his. He looks up at her, grinning bashfully, and she notices that he’s stolen her inkwell to scratch out his introduction. She can do this, she realises. This makes sense well enough, the two of them: they get along and he has never treated her oddly and he understands her in a way that Steve never did. This could work.

The realisation should make warmth spread through her, if all the romance tales are to be believed. She should be reduced to a blushing stuttering mess. She should feel a swooping feeling in the stomach, like she’s suddenly lighter than air, like she’s hanging on her broom, waiting for the climb to end and the dive to begin. Instead, Nancy just returns Jonathan’s smile and refocuses on her essay. His foot nudges hers under the table and she moves it aside, not even looking up. Romance stories are for fools, she tells herself. She doesn’t need that.

This is as good as she’ll get, and she’s fine with that.

————

The morning of Slytherin’s first Quidditch match dawns cold and bright. The wind is stinging and biting enough that Nancy wishes she had thought to buy some Quidditch goggles, but tables it for a later day. The Slytherin Quidditch robes feel strange to don, the bright green and silver standing out harshly against her pale skin, but it’s an armour all the same. It feels even weirder to line up behind the rest of the team, all stronger and older and taller than her. She knows she can make up for it on her broom, but Carol gives her a nasty look, sniggering as Tommy Hagan leans in to her, his hot breath acidic and sour smelling.

“Just do everyone a favour and let the Bludgers knock you out, yeah?”

Nancy doesn’t flinch, looking back up at him steadily instead. “Are you an idiot or do you just not care that you would be fucked without a Seeker?”

Tommy goes bright red, but the teams are signalled to file out before he can say anything, and Nancy can’t deny that the satisfaction curling in her chest is sweet. Stephen gives her a sharp look. “You’ll be fine, Wheeler,” he offers as they walk out onto the pitch, though it’s more of a command than a reassurance. “You’re fast. I picked you for a reason. Mess up, though, and the house will tear you apart.”

He delivers the words so matter-of-factly that it makes her hesitate for a second, blinking owlishly up at him before she registers the slightly wry angle to his features. She laughs to herself, shrugging. “Guess I won’t mess up then.”

Hopper, dressed in his almost comical referee gear, gives them all a glare as they line up, Ravenclaw staring down the Slytherin players. “No funny business, okay?” He gets no answer, his scowl only deepening as he grumbles something to himself before raising his whistle. “Mount your brooms!” Nancy’s heart catches in her chest as she swings her leg over, her broom familiar and well-worn beneath her hands and thighs. She lets herself have one more moment of introspection as she rises silently in the air. She had meant what she said to Stephen: she wasn’t going to mess this up.

Then Hopper blows the whistle, the sound sharp and screeching, and Nancy’s mind goes blank as the pitch explodes into motion.

The Chasers all settle into their dance, blurs of green and blue in the sky as they weave together and intwine. Nancy feels removed from it all, scouring the pitch from above for a flash of gold, but the chaos of the match in full force is much different to practise or tryouts. Still, a couple of stray Bludgers make it in her direction, all of which she dodges easily enough. She doesn’t mind drawing a little bit of the Ravenclaws’ fire if it gives her teammates an opportunity to score, so she dips a little bit lower, skimming closer to the mess of players beneath her and darting away again as soon as she gains a little attention, laughing to herself.

Slytherin is two goals down, the score at 50-70, when Nancy finally spots the smallest flutter out of the corner of her eye. The Snitch is much closer to the Ravenclaw Seeker, though the boy is looking in the other direction, entirely ignoring Nancy. She shoots upwards, out of his eyeline and begins to arch over him before she angles her broom downward, her heart pounding in her ears as the wind whistles past her, shooting as fast as she can towards the base of the Slytherin Keeper’s hoops where the Snitch still flutters. It flitters and darts away, but Nancy is on it too quickly, her hand closing around it even as the Ravenclaw Seeker pulls up behind her, cursing his own lateness.

Nancy grins to herself, almost unable to believe what has happened, despite the cold kiss of metal to her fingers and palm. Stephen and the rest of the team land heavily, clapping her on the back as the stands in green erupt with cheers and hollers and stomps. She’d caught the Snitch. She’d won the match.

Stephen nods at her as he slings an arm over her shoulders, his frame dwarfing hers. She spots Cassie in the crowd, nothing more than a slight smile on her face, which is practically a beaming grin from her. Nancy burns with satisfaction, revelling in the fact that her gamble had paid off, that people were looking at her with more than just pity or scorn. She was more than the odd Wheeler out. She could be something here.

It’s not until the team is on the way off the pitch, Nancy huddled in the middle of a crowd of kids bigger and older than her, that she spots Robin in the Hufflepuff stands, most of the kids in yellow cheering for Ravenclaw. Robin is looking directly at her though, something unreadable in the tilt of her mouth and the arch of her eyebrow, but someone claps a hand on Nancy’s shoulder before she can do anything about it, her attention snatched away and when she looks back once more, Robin is gone.

————

The rest of the winter term passes quickly, Nancy choosing to spend the holidays at school rather than go home. Mike does the same, and she feels caught in a difficult situation. He clearly doesn’t want much to do with her if the way that he has been avoiding her is anything to go by, but he’s still her little brother, no matter what issue he has with that. She has a responsibility to take care of him.

The emptiness of the halls makes the walls seem a little closer, the shadows a little darker. Nancy is reminded of the fact that someone is dead every time that she passes the place that had been so nondescript before and now makes a chill go down her spine each time, the ghost of dark blood still seeming to stain the stone.

Nancy refuses to let whatever is bothering Mike ruin Christmas, though, even if the two of them are still at school for the holiday. She makes her way over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the looks from both the lingering Slytherins and the Gryffindors. Her brother glares at her as she approaches, but she lets it slide off of her, more than used to it by now.

“Michael,” she smiles at him, shifting slightly when he doesn’t soften. “Merry Christmas, even if it’s a few days early. Save this for the day, yeah? I know you can’t go to Hogsmeade like I can, so don’t worry if you didn’t, but I got you something.”

She reaches into the inside pocket of her robes, pulling out the wrapped package that she had slipped in there this morning. Mike looks at her in surprise, struggling to hide it as he accepts the present even though something in his face goes pinched. She can’t help but wonder what he’ll think when he unwraps it to find the same Gryffindor scarf, soft with wear and age, that their mum had slipped into Nancy’s case two years ago. She hadn’t even debated giving it up for her brother. If it’s supposed to be a marker of legacy, then it’s not her who should claim it.

Nancy swallows, letting the silence slide off of her as she looks at the rest of his friends, all of them assembled regardless of house at the Gryffindor table. They all blink up at her, wide eyed. She can’t help but smile. She brings out a couple of other packages from her deeper front pockets, setting down little bags of sweets from Honeydukes in front of each of them.

“Jane, Max, Will, Lucas, Dustin. Merry Christmas to you as well.”

No one says a word, even if Dustin, his blue trimmed robes sloppily pulled around him and half-drowning his short figure, grins happily, nodding at her in recognition. Max’s scowl lessens slightly and Lucas gives her a bright and gleaming smile. Will, head ducked, turns to look at her slightly, and she’s struck by how pale and thin he looks, his pallid face seeming clammy.

She wants to stop, to ask if he’s okay, to find Jonathan, but he’s turned away in a second, tucked closer into Mike’s side. Nancy hesitates for a second, but knows she still isn’t welcome, and gives Mike one last look, full of something she daren’t name even to herself, before she turns on her heel and walks away.

“Nancy!” Mike calls, stopping her just a few feet away. She turns back around, heart pounding in her chest as ill-advised hope fills her. “Thank you,” he says, though it looks like it hurts him, his knuckles tight and bloodless with how firm his grip on the scarf is. It feels strange to see how dark his expression is, almost striking juxtaposed with how young and rounded his features still are. She nods at him, expecting that to be it, before Jane stands slightly, her height barely changing from the move of position. Mike gives his friend a warning look, but she brushes it away.

“You can call me El,” she declares, her voice high and reedy with youth but strong and firm in its undertones, something unshakeable there. Nancy doesn’t press, even though she’s confused. The stormy expression on the younger girl’s face is enough to tell her how big the moment is for her. Instead, Nancy nods at her, dipping her head.

“Alright. Merry Christmas, El.”

The younger girl nods, a little bit of shaggy growth to her hair even if it’s still barely more than dark fuzz on her head. Nancy turns away, straightening up as she walks out of the Great Hall, not letting herself slump until she is back in the safety of the Slytherin dorms.

She’s resigned herself to spending the rest of the afternoon in the common room, reading by the fire, but just as she’s curled up in one of the armchairs, this rare emptiness of the castle presenting her only opportunity to seize the comfortable chairs in the common room, Grace Liu, her Quidditch teammate comes stomping in, her eyes lighting up when she spots Nancy. “Wheeler,” she barks, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Some Hufflepuff is lingering outside the dungeons asking for you. Want me to tell them to get lost?”

It’s a surprisingly kind offer, even if it’s delivered brusquely. Nancy laughs, waving it off. “No, thank you, though.” She gets up, loath to leave her comfortable position behind, but pads towards the common room door anyway. She’s not sure who she expects to be waiting outside, maybe Will considering the state that he appeared to be in, but she’s faced with a different familiar face instead.

“Robin?”

The other girl’s face lights up and she straightens from where she had been slumped against the wall of the dungeon. “Nance!”

The sheer brightness of her smile makes Nancy’s own lips curl up, almost without her realising it. The two of them haven’t really seen each other much over the last term, and she’s seen her about the halls since everyone else left for the holidays, but hadn’t found it within herself to approach her. Clearly Robin wasn’t having the same problem. “Everything okay, Robin?”

“For sure. Just wondered if you wanted to hang out. It’s Christmas after all.” She follows this up with such a charming disorientating smile that Nancy immediately caves, forgetting why the two of them haven’t been so close lately.

“Yeah,” she softens, smiling on instinct. Robin brightens, grinning at her.

“Brilliant. Want to head to the library?”

Nancy laughs, surprising herself with the sound. “Robin, it’s the holidays. Why would we go to the library?”

The other girl colours, scarlet flush spreading across her cheeks. “Well, I mean, that’s where we usually hang out. Studying.”

“Is that all you think I do?” She teases, testing her and laughing when Robin blushes further, shifting on her feet.

“No, I mean, of course I don’t.” Then something clicks, a smile pulling at Robin’s features. “But can you really tell me that you weren’t reading just now?”

She has her there. “Shut up,” Nancy mumbles, her own cheeks flushing as pink as Robin’s, before she gets an idea. “Alright, I’ll prove something to you. Want to go flying?”

“I haven’t been on a broom since first year,” the other girl protests. “I’m much more of a music person.”

Nancy smiles to herself, remembering the Walkman that Robin had sent her. It makes her feel almost uncomfortable with how happy it makes her. “Well, I guess we are going to change that, then.”

She darts back into the common room before Robin can protest, leaving the other girl stranded in the hallway until she comes back with her broom, the taller girl looking lost and unsure as she stares Nancy down. “Uh, I hate to point out the obvious, but you only have one broomstick.”

“You’ll be fine, Robin. We’ll manage.”

The other girl wrings her hands nervously the whole way out to the Quidditch field, looking at Nancy anxiously before peering up at the sky, squinting. She’s about to tell her that they don’t actually have to do this, about to let up on the teasing, but Robin straightens with a sigh before she can. “Alright, fine.”

“Yeah?”

Robin shrugs helplessly. “When have I ever said no to you, Wheeler?”

Nancy colours, unable to come up with a response. She supposes that Robin never has, and isn’t quite sure what to do with that. “Come on,” she says instead, holding the broom out. “If you haven’t flown in two years, you might want to hover a bit first.”

Robin looks at the broom, blanching slightly. She hesitates just a little too long, unable to reach for it.

“Unless you’d rather go up together?” Nancy offers, Robin’s expression clearing as she nods with relief. Nancy can’t help but giggle, affection blooming in her chest. Robin has always worn her feelings on her face, a proverbial open book. It’s refreshing but also disorientating when it only makes Nancy want to let down her own walls as well.

She mounts her broom, gesturing for Robin to get on behind her and, to her credit, she manages it with only a little trepidation. Nancy kicks off as gently as she can, keeping the broom relatively steady as it rises in the air. Robin jerks closer, her arms wrapping tightly around Nancy’s middle as their feet leave the ground, and Nancy can’t help but smile a little at it. Robin huffs a surprised breath of air, hot against the back of Nancy’s neck. It sends a shiver down her spine, her hands tightening around the broomstick instinctively.

“Is now a bad time to tell you that I’m scared of heights?” Robin jokes nervously, lips brushing Nancy’s back as she buries her face in the fabric of her shirt. She’s not sure why it makes her stomach drop.

Nancy laughs, bright and freer than she has in a long time. It echoes in the empty pitch. She blames the crisp winter air for why her cheeks flush so red. “Yeah,” she calls back, the wind snatching her voice away. “Probably should have mentioned it earlier.”

Robin squeezes tighter. “That wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“No,” Nancy agrees as she swoops a little deeper, laughing when Robin yelps. “It wouldn’t have.” She gets the feeling that Robin would hit her if she could manage to let go of her middle.

After a few hours, though, Robin seems to loosen up a little, laughing along as they hang in the air. Nancy stops them dead, the two of them dangling freely in the sky. “Have you even managed to look down yet?” She teases, feeling Robin shake her head.

“Nope.”

“At least look at the view,” Nancy encourages, nudging Robin slightly. The other girl grumbles in protest before pulling back, her grip loosening from around Nancy’s stomach. She catches the sharp intake of breath when Robin finally notices how beautiful everything looks from up here. It’s been a cold winter and the entire grounds are dusted with snow, like something out of a fairytale or a souvenir snow globe. Hogwarts looks like a whole world unto itself.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathes, barely more than a whisper.

Nancy feels warm affection, so different to the cold air surrounding them, bubble up in her chest. “I know, right.”

“You can see everything from up here.”

The pitch of Robin’s voice makes her wish she could see her expression, but the shaft of the broom is too narrow for her to twist and catch the look on Robin’s face. She settles for laughing, leaning back into Robin’s chest slightly, glad when she meets the warm and solid chest of someone actually enjoying the ride instead of clinging to Nancy like a lifeline.

“Better than the library, huh?” Nancy teases, feeling Robin laugh against her.

“I mean, preaching to the choir, here, Nance. I wouldn’t spend half so much time there if it wasn’t for you. Hell, my grades would be in the toilet if hanging out with you didn’t mean studying all the time.”

Nancy feels herself flush, this having nothing to do with the sharp cold wind against her cheeks this time. “Fuck you, I’m not that bad.”

Robin makes a disbelieving noise. “Yes, you are. Like I said, you were reading earlier, weren’t you?”

“I’ll shove you off.”

Robin’s grip tightens instinctively. “Don’t you dare.”

“Long fall, you know.”

“Nancy!”

She laughs. “I won’t, I won’t. Obviously. No one else will put up with me.”

Robin doesn’t laugh quite so hard at that and Nancy is brutally reminded of exactly whose fault it is that they haven’t been talking much lately, and it isn’t Robin. She wants to apologise, to explain, but she doesn’t have a reason. Not one that makes any sense, even to her. Still, Steve’s face flashes through Nancy’s head, images of him and Robin together, heads bowed. She doesn’t know how to broach the subject though, settling for tightening her grip on the broom, making it buck slightly so that Robin yelps in surprise, breaking the tension of the moment.

“Still scared of heights?”

Robin scoffs, a rush of air against her neck. “I don’t know. The view makes up for it.”

“What about the company?” Nancy teases, feeling something strange swooping in her stomach. Robin laughs, leaning closer.

“I don’t know. Kind of shitty, actually.”

Nancy frowns jokingly to herself. “I’m not joking this time, I’ll drop us like a stone.”

Robin doesn’t protest this time, clearly not believing her, though she does squeeze a little tighter. They land eventually, palpable relief settling across Robin when they land on solid ground once more. “Thanks for this, Nance,” she says eventually, more whispered than anything else.

Something like shame pools in her stomach. She doesn’t deserve Robin, or her kindness, but Nancy is too selfish to point that out, so she softens instead, smiling to herself. “I’m pretty sure I should be the one thanking you. You saved me from a pretty lonely afternoon.” Nancy can’t help but laugh a little self deprecatingly to herself. “Even my brother didn’t want to spend it with me.”

Robin frowns, apologetic and regretful, though Nancy catches something else in her expression as well. There’s a beat of hesitation before it dawns on her.

“Wait. Did you see what happened in the Great Hall?”

Robin’s hand flies to the back of her neck, rubbing at the skin nervously, a sure sign that the taller girl is lying. “What do you mean?”

Nancy sighs to herself. She’s not sure if she’s even annoyed or not. On one hand, there’s a flush of embarrassment though her at the idea of someone witnessing her brother rejecting her so obviously, of just how much of an outcast she is, but on the other hand, Robin had been sweet enough to draw her out of her isolation when she has given her nothing but the cold shoulder all year.

“You’re not a very good liar, Buckley,” she settles for saying, Robin crumpling before her, a bashful smile pulling at her face.

“Sorry,” she admits, shuffling between her feet slightly. She doesn’t look it though, and Nancy isn’t even sure if she wants her to be.

Eventually, she just sighs, giving the taller girl a soft smile that makes relief plainly flit over her face. “Don’t worry about it, Buckley. Besides, now you just know exactly how pigheaded my brother is.”

Robin laughs, breaking the tension as she shrugs helplessly. “Yeah, but I’m biased anyway.”

Nancy blushes, averting her eyes as she swallows, trying to ignore the tightening of her stomach. “Fair enough,” she allows, softening when she looks up and spots Robin’s grin. “Things are just complicated between us.”

Robin nods, hardly surprised by the admission. They start walking back to the castle, but Robin sticks closer to Nancy’s side, knocking their shoulders together as she shoots her a smile. “Siblings, huh?”

“Shut up,” Nancy scoffs, grinning. “You’re an only child.”

The taller girl shrugs bashfully. “How could my parents handle more than me?” She frames it like a joke, but there’s an undercurrent of tension and self deprecation beneath it. Nancy gives her a sharp look, but Robin refuses to meet her eyes, staring straight ahead at the snow as the trudge up the path to the castle. It isn’t the first reference that she has made that makes Nancy think that stuff with her muggle family is difficult. Merlin, she’s here, isn’t she? Not at home, during Christmas, with her parents. Nancy knows why she’s at school instead and can’t help but think the reason might be similar for Robin.

“How are things going with Jonathan?”

Nancy starts. She hadn’t been expecting that. “ What are you talking about?”

Robin shrugs. “You two went on a date to Hogsmeade, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“‘You guess’?” Robin echoes, laughing slightly. “That’s not exactly the sound of someone in love.”

Now it’s Nancy’s turn to snort incredulously. “I mean, it was one Hogsmeade date. Besides, we were friends beforehand. What do you expect?”

What she’s saying is true enough, even if she doesn’t quite believe it, the words failing to ring true even to her own ears. She likes Jonathan, genuinely. The two of them get on and always have, for as long as their families have been friends. Their trip to Hogsmeade hadn’t felt like anything different than the two of them being like they usually were. It hadn’t been like with Steve but it didn’t feel different to normal either. Nancy doesn’t know what to think about it. Robin looks at her carefully, shrugging when Nancy doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Alright, fine.”

Nancy looks at her sharply but Robin just seems to let it all go. She doesn’t press, just glad for the reprieve. Turns out, there’s a lot that neither of them really want to talk about, so they spend the rest of the walk in relative silence. It isn’t tense, even with all the things that they are avoiding, the two of them settling into their usual companionable rhythm. Even with the new distance this year, they have spent a lot of time together through first and second year.

“You missing Steve?” She eventually manages to ask, both guilt and frustration pooling in her stomach. He had decided to go home for the holidays, like usual. From what she knows about the Harringtons, they are not exactly a close family, but they like appearances.

Robin shrugs but something lightens in her face at the mention of Steve. “Guess so. He’s such a loser though,” she laughs, her voice dripping with affection, free and warm in a way that makes Nancy’s chest tighten and go brittle. No one has ever had that kind of affection for her. She’s not sure how she could blame them.

“True,” she says instead, unable to stop herself from smiling a little bit. Steve had been her friend, even if she had to push him away. She can’t help some of that lingering affection from bleeding through.

Robin looks at her sharply, something evaluative in her eyes, making Nancy shift on her feet slightly. The castle is just up ahead and it would be easy for her to slip away as soon as they get in through the doors, but Robin stops before they reach them. “You know, he understands.”

“What are you talking about?”

Robin shrugs. “You might think that you’re some cryptic mystery, Nancy, but I know you. I know that you feel guilty about how shit went down with him.”

Something in Nancy turns ice cold, her stomach turning over. She bites the inside of her cheek, unable to manage to say anything, but Robin doesn’t seem angry about it, just shrugging once more, giving her a lopsided smile. Nancy’s insides seem to tilt with it.

“Hey, I can be on his side and yours. I think you were right in thinking that you two wouldn’t be good together.”

“I liked him,” Nancy says, honestly, though she knows it sounds like a defence, even to her own ears. Maybe it is. “Just not like that.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, looking over Nancy’s shoulder for a second, her eyes going unfocused before she snaps back to attention. “I get that. He doesn’t blame you for it, he just feels sad.”

She supposes she can understand that, even if bitter guilt burns in her chest. “So, what?”

Robin shrugs one last time, enough sympathy in the tilt of her mouth to make Nancy feel sick. “Nothing. I’m just saying.”

Nancy grimaces and she knows exactly how tight the edges of her mouth are. “Right. Thanks, Robin.” The taller girl looks at her, a little nervous, but Nancy means it. At least she thinks that she does. The situation is complicated. She never wanted to hurt Steve or make Robin pick sides. “Hey,” she continues, “I’ll see you around, yeah? The library?”

The slight joke makes Robin grin, the girl ducking her head and nodding repeatedly. “Yeah,” Robin says, something warm in her voice. “Sounds good, Nance.”

The next day, Mike finds her at lunch, a novel propped against a spare goblet, something uncertain playing across his features as he approaches. “Hey,” he says, shifting between his feet a little. She gestures for him to sit down, but he ignores it. “Thank you for the scarf. I’m sorry I didn’t say it yesterday.”

She’s not sure if it’s an apology for anything more than that, but it’s enough for now. She nods at him, giving him as much of a smile as she can. “Don’t worry about it. I hope you’re still having a good holiday.”

Mike ducks his head, nodding slightly with a smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah. You?”

Nancy shrugs, trying not to blush too much. She can’t really think of a better way to have spent the day. “Yeah, I suppose so,” she allows, before clearing her throat and levelling him with a careful look. “So, Jane Ives. El, I mean.”

Mike shifts, looking unsure. “Yeah. Apparently she’s spent most of her life in a Muggle orphanage.”

She supposes that isn’t surprising, even it is troubling to hear. A rumour like that had gone around Hogwarts in the first few weeks of the year, everyone abuzz with Jane’s arrival. At least until the gruesome murder stole attention. “Is that where the name El comes from?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Apparently they labelled them with numbers. She was number eleven.”

That does surprise her. Her stomach turns as she looks at him. “That’s awful. But she likes ‘El’?”

Mike shrugs, looking a little lost. “I dunno. What she knows, I guess.”

She nods, lips a thin smile. “Well, I’m glad I got permission to know.” That’s what this is, she knows, and what yesterday was about as well. It’s nice to hear, even if Mike is so obviously reluctant about it.

Guilt flits across his features, but never settles, his spine straightening as he doubles down. “Yeah. Thanks for the scarf. It was Mum’s, right?”

She groans, watching the realisation flit across Mike’s face at her reaction. “You weren’t supposed to open it yet, Mike! But, yeah, it’s from when she was here.”

Mike swallows, nodding as he looks down at his hands. “Sorry. Well, I suppose it’s good that at least one of us ended up in Gryffindor to get it.”

Nancy flinches, recoiling a little at the ice in his tone. Mike stares her down for half a second before turning on his heel, striding away. She watches him go, her stomach tight. She supposes that he has a point. That’s why she gave it to him in the first place, but it hurts to hear it all laid out so explicitly, even if it’s true. She digs her nails into the wood of the table, gritting her teeth before letting out a long sigh. There’s nothing she can do.

He’s right, after all.

————

The calm of the half-empty castle is broken all too quickly and brutally two days later, on the 21st.

Fred Benson is more Jonathan’s friend than Nancy’s. She doesn’t even really like him that much, the boy more a manageable annoyance than someone she holds much affection for. That doesn’t mean that it isn’t harrowing to watch his eyes roll back in his head, body going completely rigid and unresponsive.

“Fred?” Jonathan asks when he notices that he’s stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, the stone corridor abandoned except for them. Nancy hears the note of fear that creeps into his voice when Fred doesn’t react. “What’s wrong, Fred?”

Nancy feels her throat go tight as she reaches out, shaking his shoulder with her hand. She feels him shift beneath her grip and then his body starts rising, starting to hover in the air. “Fred, wake up!”

She snaps her head to look behind her when she hears a door slam, heavy and sudden. Someone else is around, but the hallway is empty and silence falls thicker and heavier after the sound of the door. “Jonathan, did you hear that?”

Fred snatches their attention away before she can get an answer. He rises so high that his legs dangle by her head, Nancy’s grip running down all the way down as he slips through her hands until all she can keep hold of is his feet. Panic races though her, creeping up her spine like something poisoning and paralysing. “Fred! Come on!” Distantly, she can hear Jonathan yelling, screaming for help, trying to tug at his feet as well, but the world narrows to just Fred.

Despite how much she pulls, she can’t get him back down to the ground and the way that his leg snaps reverberates down though Nancy as well. It tears his foot out of her grip, his bone peeking through the skin as his leg is bent at a horrific angle. Another snap. She looks up to see his broken arm just in time to watch as his neck breaks as well.

The smell of blood fills the air, coppery and thick enough to choke on, and the flickering firelight of the torches lining the hallway keeps cutting in and out, making the shadows seem longer. Nausea roils through her, her stomach turning and turning and turning. His jaw tears viciously to the side, his mouth frozen open in a scream that he could never get out. He hangs there for another moment, impossibly still even with all of his limbs broken, before he crashes to the ground once more, like a puppet with all of the strings cut.

The blood that spreads out around him stains the flagstones impossibly dark, covering the pockmarked surface and pooling into the cracks, a rusty mark that Nancy knows can’t be washed away. It’s all that she can do to stop herself from throwing up right next to him.

“Nancy-” Jonathan manages, his voice cracking and strained. She realises suddenly that she’s still gripping him around the legs, half collapsed on top of him. When she straightens, her hands shake so much that Jonathan has to catch hold of them. Five minutes ago, they had been walking her back to the Slytheirn dorms, joking about books and teachers, and now Fred is dead. “Nancy, look.”

She turns to snap at him, telling him that she doesn’t want to see it anymore, but something next to Fred catches her attention first. The blood isn’t just pooling around him, but running in rivers like it has a life of its own. She watches in horror, breath caught in her chest, as it all begins to take shape. The blood spells out words, the red taking the form of curves and angles until there’s a full phrase written out.

“What the fuck does the Heir of Slytherin mean?” Jonathan gets out, voice thready.

Nancy just shakes her head numbly. She has no idea. “We have to go get a professor. An adult,” she says, voice trembling. Jonathan nods, just as shaken as she is, but before they can move, footsteps echo against the stone floor, Hopper and Owens racing down the hall.

“Get away from him!” Hopper barks, pushing them backwards. “What have you done?”

Nancy suddenly realises what it looks like, the two of over his body, Jonathan clinging to her hands. The very idea makes bile rise in her throat. “This wasn’t us!”

Owens comes to a stop, looking at the two of them. His gaze is sad but pinched. Suspicious. “What happened?”

“We were just talking. Like normal. And then, he froze and went stiff,” Jonathan explains haltingly, voice breaking as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Then he started floating in the air like someone was levitating him.”

“And his limbs?”

“Snapped on their own,” Jonathan responds, choking on the words slightly. Nancy stays quiet, swallowing the bile that retches up into her mouth. She does her best not to look at Fred, or what’s left of him, but the image of his broken body is seared onto the back of her eyelids.

Hopper shakes his head, scowling at the two of them disbelievingly. “So, what, no one else was here?”

“No one. There was a door slam but we didn’t see anyone. ”

“A door slam.” He says flatly, giving them a hard look. “Time and space matter in magic, Wheeler. Whoever did this was near and you were the only ones here.”

Nancy stares right back at him. Whilst she had been shaking beforehand, terrified and horrified, she feels steely now. Her stomach hardens, her spine straightens. Instead of trembling, her hands curl into fists. “And you think two thirds years could do that to Fred? He was our friend, sir. Why would we hurt him?”

Owens looks at Hopper, almost pleadingly. “They’re right, Jim. Why would they want to hurt their friend and how could two third years manage this?”

Hopper scowls, running a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know. But Wheeler’s here, and her friend Barbara Holland is still missing. My friends on the Aurors still haven’t found her.”

Jonathan shoves Nancy, sending her a glare, telling her to keep quiet. “We didn’t do this, sir.”

Silence hangs, tense and all consuming, until Hopper relents, shaking his head. “Alright. Go back to your houses. To bed. Don’t tell anyone what happened.”

That’ll hardly matter, Nancy wants to tell him. The Hogwarts rumour mill is something else: nothing will stop the news of Fred’s death from spreading. Instead, though, she just ducks her head in the appearance of a nod, letting Jonathan wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her away.

Sure enough, when morning comes around after a sleepless night for Nancy, the whole castle is buzzing, Fred’s name whispered throughout the halls even with the few remaining students here for Christmas, only outdone by the phrase the Heir of Slytherin. It all slides past her, with Nancy keeping her head down. She feels numb to it all. Every time that she closes her eyes, she sees his broken frame, blood dripping from his empty eye sockets. Cassie casts her a sharp look when she doesn’t touch her breakfast, but doesn’t say anything. She wishes that Fred was the only thing haunting her, though. The more of the year that passes, the more time that slips by, the more she can’t help but think that Barb is never going to turn up.

A couple of weeks pass, the students flooding back into a castle even more haunted by the spectre of what has happened, before Robin catches her on her way to the Slytherin common room again, just like on Christmas. Nancy is sure that, if she hadn’t found her before she got there, she would have lingered outside, just like then as well.

Relief plays across Robin’s face the second that she catches sight of her. “Nance,” she sighs.

“What’s wrong, Robin?”

“Fred.”

Nancy swallows. Of course. “What, you knew him?”

“Not really,” Robin admits, something hard in her eyes. “But you were there, weren’t you?”

She doesn’t even bother denying it. “How do you know?”

Robin gives her a wry smile. “Never underestimate the Hogwarts rumour mill.”

Just like she thought. Nancy sighs, hands trembling so much that she has to shove them into the pockets of her robes. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

“What?”

“No non-Slytherins allowed in the common room,” Nancy tells her, the rule ingrained into the house’s culture. Everyone knows that.

Robin nods. “Alright. Come on.”

They walk in silence, the weight of it almost seemingly overwhelming, until they’re outside. They technically don’t have long — the break for lunch only lasts ten more minutes, but Nancy doesn’t feel the point in rushing. She doesn’t feel the point in much anymore, not when the sickening sound of Fred’s bones snapping plays over and over in her head. They end up just leaning against the walls of the castle. Winter is in full force now, ice collecting across the Great Lake.

“You okay?” Robin asks eventually, voice hesitant. Nancy tries not to scoff too harshly.

“What do you think?”

Robin nods, a little ruefully. “Yeah, makes sense.”

There’s a beat of quiet before Nancy can manage to say anything else. “We didn’t even see it coming, you know.” Robin’s head snaps to look at her. “Fred certainly didn’t.”

“There was no one around?”

“Just me and Jonathan. I heard a door slam but there was no one in the corridor.”

“Shit, Wheeler.” Robin half-whistles through her teeth. “I’m sorry you had to watch it.”

Nancy sighs. The air is still cold enough to sting her cheeks and her nose is running, but she’s not sure if she blames that on the wind. She wipes at it roughly, sniffing harshly. “Everyone thinks it was me, don’t they?”

Robin does her the courtesy of not lying. “I mean, a lot of people are saying it.” Based on her regretful tone of voice, Nancy doesn’t have to ask if Robin is one of them, but that doesn’t make her any less surprised by that fact. Sure, she can maybe get that they are friends, though she isn’t sure what to make of that either, but the idea that Robin would stand by her still sits oddly. Nancy’s pretty sure that mentioning that would be a bad idea though. She’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if people think she’s a murderer.

“Of course,” she can’t help but mutter.

“I mean, between the Heir of Slytherin, Barb and you being at Fred’s, I guess I see why.”

Nancy sighs. “Are you on my side or not, Robin?”

Robin starts, realising how her rambling thoughts had sounded. She flushes, shaking her head. “Of course. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“People remember last year, you know. Someone brought up you embarrassing Tommy Hagan the second that they heard that you were there. They know how talented you are. Plus, the castle was pretty empty otherwise.”

Nancy resists the urge to bury her face in her hands. “Fucking brilliant.”

Robin laughs, only half-humourlessly. “Yeah, I guess sometimes you’re better off not being such a swot.”

Silence settles over them, just as tense as Nancy feels. It’s like something in her chest has been wound all the way upwards, her lungs constricted and her stomach tight. “What the hell should I do?” She eventually says, the whole sentence an outward rush of air as she sighs.

“I don’t know,” Robin confesses, looking at her evenly. She’s glad that she can’t see the pity she’s sure the other girl feels. Somehow, Nancy thinks she wouldn’t be able to take that. “I guess just keep going.”

Nancy scoffs to herself, soft and angry. “Yeah.”

“Hey, I’ve got your back, Nance,” Robin says, frowning slightly. “I’m sure other people don’t believe you did this either.”

She hums, trying not to sound disbelieving. Maybe Robin has a point. She’s sure that Cassie doesn’t think she did this, though maybe only because she’s too much of a cynic to believe she’s capable of the magic, not the act. She has a point, thought — Nancy would have no idea where to even start with the level of magical power needed to do these murders.

She looks up from the ground, managing to send Robin a hesitant smile. “Yeah.”

They spend a long time out there, the cold wind burning their cheeks red by the time that they head inside, long after they were supposed to return to class. Nancy can’t really bring herself to care, even if she can practically see the cold look Hopper will give her tomorrow. It’s worth it, though, for the small spark of warmth that ignites in her chest. It lasts her all the way back to the Slytherin common room that evening when the entire house falls silent at her entrance.

Nancy is pretty sure that it sputters out about then.

————

She’s not sure how things can get worse, at least until a few days later when Mike pulls her to the side in the middle of the library, ignoring her surprised protests

“Mike, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer until they’re in the middle of the stacks, relatively secluded. That’s when he fixes her with a furious glare, his anger more than apparent. “What happened with Fred?”

Nancy stops dead, wrestling her arm out of his grip. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Honestly, she’s not surprised that he’s asking, only that it took him days to do so. She sighs, slumping slightly. “What do you want me to say, Mike? It happened out of nowhere. We were just walking through the halls and then, five minutes later, he was-” Nancy cuts herself off, choking on the words. Mike’s glare, though, is unchanged as she clears her throat.

“How did you get Jonathan to agree to cover it up for you?” He sneers, words dripping with venom, and Nancy recoils so harshly that her head makes impact with the bookshelf behind her.

“What?”

“You killed him, didn’t you? Like you killed Barb?”

Nancy thinks she’s going to throw up. Her brother glares back at her, meeting her dumbfounded stare with suspicion and anger. Mike, her stupid, headstrong, naive little brother, acting like he’s got the world figured out. Like Nancy must be one thing just because she’s another. She must be the Heir of Slytherin, just because she’s betrayed her family.

She feels her stare go cold as she retreats into herself. “No, Michael, you asshole. It isn’t me. You really think I would murder my best friend?”

“You needed someone to try it on. That’s why she went missing before school even began. Less eyes if you failed,” Mike grinds out. Nancy wrestles her anger downward. Feeling hurt does nothing for her, there’s no point in focusing on it. At least, so she tells herself. The bitter taste of it floods her mouth either way.

“I’m your sister, Mike. You should know I wouldn’t do this.”

Mike scoffs. “I don’t know you at all,” he hisses, an overt glance at her green and silver tie and trimmed jumper as he speaks. Nancy feels herself go cold all over. Mike’s anger has always been hot and immediate, just like hers, but he has never hidden it. He’s a Gryffindor through and through — clever and a planner but more ruled by his emotions than anything else. Nancy understands, at least a little, in this moment the difference between them. She burns now, just as hot and just as bitterly, but she goes quiet and waspish instead.

“Fuck you, Mike.”

Her brother’s mouth twists, though in regret or anger she can’t tell. “If it isn’t you, then who? It’s not like there were many others in the castle at the time.”

It’s the question on everyone else’s mind as well. “I doubt it’s actually a student. A seventh year for sure if it is. The magic is just too advanced otherwise. A third year student like me can’t use curses that dark, Mike, I don’t even know any that could do something like that.”

Mike falters. Clearly he hadn’t thought of that. Some of his bluster fades as he absorbs the truth in what she’s saying. “So, what, it’s one of the professors?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s an adult manipulating a student. There’s no way this is some kid’s master plan.” Nancy suddenly realises where they are. The library is not exactly the most private of places and they were lucky that they hadn’t already been kicked out for speaking too loudly. “Come on, we need to find somewhere better to discuss this. Does your house let other students in?”

“Yeah, I could let you in, but people won’t be happy.” Again, his eyes drift down to her uniform, though there’s less of an accusation there. Nancy sighs. He has a point, even if he’s being pigheaded about it.

“Alright, fine. Come with me.”

She strides out of the library, her brothers hurried footsteps behind her as he tries to catch up. “Where are we going?”

“Just come on, Mike,” she grumbles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Nancy keeps her hand on her wand, though. Clearly the castle is safe. Everyone’s realised that by now. No one is expecting to get attacked in the middle of the halls, between classes and meals, but Nancy doesn’t trust the charged atmosphere that had settled over the school lately. The pressure was building. She isn’t sure how it’s going to go when things finally come to a head. She pulls her brother into an abandoned classroom, muttering a quick, “muffilatio,” under her breath as she slams the door closed.

Mike looks at her curiously as she runs a stressed hand through her hair. Why did this all have to happen when her brother finally arrived at Hogwarts? Why couldn’t he be safe at home with their parents and Holly? And, more importantly, why did Mike have to be in the middle of it all? She’s going to kill him, as long as he doesn’t manage to do so himself first. “It really isn’t you, is it?”

“Obviously, you idiot,” she grumbles, staring him down. “What, you saw ‘heir of Slytherin’ and just immediately assumed it was me? It’s a whole house, dumbass. I’m not exactly the only one in it.”

Mike has the decency to look sheepish. “Alright, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would hurt Barb.”

“It made sense! Dustin thought so too.”

Nancy scoffs, though most of her anger has faded now, giving way just to frustration. “Well, I’m so glad to know that you trust Dustin Henderson more than your own sister.” Mike cowers for a second, looking tiny, and Nancy sighs. “So, what? You and your little friends have been poking around?”

“We can’t just let them get away with it!”

“You’re eleven, Mike!”

He doesn’t respond to that, glaring up at her instead, and it’s clear as anything that she won’t be able to stop him from doing this. She feels a headache growing as she screws her eyes up closed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “Alright, just tell me what you guys have discovered already. No more investigating on your own anymore, though.”

“What?!” Mike sputters in protest, springing back up to his feet. “You can’t do that!”

“Mike, people are dying. Horrible things are being done to them,” Nancy presses, a flash of electric urgency in her chest. Mike is going to get himself seriously hurt if he doesn’t start listening. “You’re a first year. You can barely make a feather float. Whatever is going on is serious magic. I’m not going to let you get hurt because of it. Or do you want to end up like Barb? Like Fred?”

They both pretend that she doesn’t choke on the names, familiar grief curling in her chest. She takes a deep breath, steadying her shaking hands. She can’t do anything for Barb right now. Nancy has to focus on protecting her brother. Something about it makes him shrink a little.

“Okay,” Mike relents, though she recognises the spark of defiance in his eyes and knows that it won’t be long before he stops listening to her. They part, him still glowering and her with more worry than she thinks is healthy weighing on her chest. It makes it a little hard to catch her breath, but Nancy has always been good at pretending that she is okay, so no one notices anything amiss when she smoothes down the front of her robes and walks into the Slytherin common room with her usual quiet confidence. She’s left alone, like usual, only Cassie catching her eye with a curious look that Nancy answers with a tilt of her head, Cassie knowing that means she’ll be filled in later.

In her room, she pulls the curtains around her bed as tightly closed as possible and takes a heaving breath. She can’t believe what’s going on. The sting of Mike’s suspicion aside, the fact that her little brother is investigating what’s going on adds a sharp edge of worry to Nancy. Everyone was nervous by what was happening, scared to be the next to turn up dead, but Mike was going to get hurt. She had to take care of him.

Nancy screws up her face, pressing the heel of her hands into her eyes until she sees stars in the darkness behind her eyelids. It sharpens her slightly, and she pulls her hands away with a gameplan. She has to beat her brother and his friends to it, and she knows who she can ask. Robin’s face pops into her head first, but she literally shakes it away, along with Steve’s as well.

Eddie Munson looks at her suspiciously the next day when she pulls him aside between classes, but he relents easily. “Yeah, people have been talking to me about it too. Some say that they’re surprised it isn’t me, that if I was in Slytherin it probably would be.” Eddie scowls, kicking at the stone floor of the hallway.

It’s true that Eddie sticks out in Hufflepuff, but labelling him a potential murder feels like a bit of a stretch. She’s pretty sure that he wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if pressed.

“So, do you want to do something about it?”

He jolts, giving her a sharp look. “Better to keep our noses out of it, Wheeler,” he warns. “We’re just third-years.”

“Come on,” she cajoles. “It’s not like you’re the only one out of the two of us being suspected.”

It’s true, even if she has to pretend that it doesn’t bother her. After all, Mike isn’t the only one connecting the dots. She’s Public Enemy Number One and she’s beginning to feel the heat of it: people glare at her in the halls and Cassie and Robin are the only people who come within ten feet of her anymore. Nancy wishes she understood why people think she wanted to kill Barb, her best, and maybe only, friend in the world, but she lets the rumours swirl, not commenting on them. At least it makes most people leave her alone.

Eddie sighs, grimacing slightly. “Fine, I’ll join the Wheeler Detective Agency, but if anything happens to me, I will haunt your ass forever.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

He rolls his eyes. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, first we need to figure out why these kids are dying. Everyone says it’s me because of Barb, but there has to be more connecting the victims.”

“I was joking about the Detective Agency thing, Wheeler, Jesus Christ, did you swallow a Sherlock Holmes book?”

She looks at him blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Eddie sighs again, his patience apparently running dry as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I sometimes really hate wizards, do you know that? Like, honestly.”

Nancy snorts. “Fine by me. Can you focus up?”

“Meet me in the library later,” Eddie says instead, and Nancy would feel frustrated, would let her shoulders tense and her mouth tick down, but Eddie is looking around nervously and he kind of has a point. They are already under enough suspicion: it’s probably better not to hang around each other in the middle of the halls talking about murder victims.

She rolls her shoulders, pushing her frustration away. “Alright, fine. See you around.” Eddie pushes past her before she’s even finished speaking, throwing an agreement over his shoulder. Later, lingering outside the library, she’s not even sure if he’ll show up.

A tap on her shoulder makes her whirl around, though it isn’t Eddie that she comes face to face with. Instead, it’s Robin, her eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing, Wheeler?”

Caught off guard, it takes her a second to respond. “Waiting for a friend, what do you think? What are you doing here? I thought you said I was the only reason you study.”

Robin laughs a little. “Maybe I was looking for you, huh? Or maybe you’re just rubbing off on me.”

“If only,” Nancy fires back drily. “What’s up, Robin?”

“Nothing,” she says, though it’s false innocence on her face. “Just wondering how long you think you’ll get away with keeping me out of your little crime fighting detective group.”

Nancy glares at her, though there’s no heat behind it. “What are you talking about?”

Robin’s even look just gets a little more incredulous. “Come on, Wheeler. I know you pretty well. And you and Eddie looked quite buddy-buddy earlier.”

Nancy snorts. “Maybe you’re the detective. How the hell did you figure me out? Honestly.”

The taller girl gives her a long look before cracking a wide smile. “I overheard you, Nancy, come on. What do you think?”

“Merlin,” she can’t help but snort. “You suck.”

“Yeah,” Robin shrugs, grinning at her toothily. “I know.”

“So, why are you lingering outside of the library, like a creep? What do you want?”

“I want in, obviously.”

Nancy shakes her head. “Not a chance. It’s stupid enough that me and Eddie are looking into it, but we have stuff to lose. People think it’s us.”

“I said I had your back, didn’t I? What, you’re gonna make me break a promise so quick?” Robin shrugs, mouth a tiny tilted smile.

And, really, what else can she say to that?

“Fine,” Nancy sighs, feeling a headache building up behind her eyes once more. This year would be the death of her. Maybe literally. “Eddie’s promised to haunt me if he gets killed, but you got yourself into this so you can go haunt someone else.”

Robin laughs, ringing and free, loud enough for some people to turn their heads and look. Nancy flushes at the attention. “What, you don’t want to be graced with my presence for all eternity?”

“Merlin, no,” Nancy retorts, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “You’re too whiny.”

“I’m the whiny one?” Robin scoffs to herself, genuinely disbelievingly now. She raises an eyebrow at Nancy, and she suddenly feels an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck even just in anticipation. “You’re the emo, ‘woe is me’ one out of the two of us. I don’t think you get to call me whiny, Wheeler.”

She supposes that’s true, but Eddie’s arrival saves her from having to defend herself. “Come on, you’re late,” she grumbles instead, grabbing both of their hands and pulling them bodily into the library. Eddie’s fingers wrap around her wrist but it’s Robin’s that locks with her own, the warmth of her hand comforting against Nancy’s own palm. She’s not sure why that makes her chest feel tight.

“What’s the rush, man?” Eddie mumbles, but he lets himself be dragged towards a table. Nancy gestures for both of them to sit down, which they do, dropping into their chairs with twin expressions of wariness. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re actually kind of terrifying?” Eddie asks, head snapping to look at Robin when she snorts.

“You don’t know Nance very well, huh? You’re never coming back from this, buddy.”

Nancy raises an eyebrow at her, pinning the other girl with a hard look. “Stop trying to scare him off before we’ve even started.”

“Trust me,” Eddie mumbled to himself, slouching further in his seat until half of his torso had disappeared under the table, “I’m plenty scared already. People think I’m a murderer.”

Robin opens her mouth to say something, but whatever it was is lost as Nancy drops a stack of books on the table with a loud thump, wincing apologetically when Madam Pince shushes them from across the room. “Wheeler, what the hell?”

“We need to work backwards. We don’t know who is doing it, so we figure out how.”

Eddie nods to himself, even though the corners of his mouth tighten and tick further down into a frown. It makes him look a bit like a kicked puppy. “Right. Just got to find the right murder spell. Life with you guys is peachy, man.”

“Shut up and get reading, Munson.”

He fakes a salute before grabbing a book on the top of the stack. Honestly, Nancy doesn’t even know where to start. The wobbling tower of books half-obscuring each of them contains a range of subjects: from the history of Hogwarts to some of the more general curses. She knows that they would need to get access to the restricted section in order to find anything like what could unleash that kind of pain and horror on someone in order to kill them. Brenner is the only route in that she can think of, though she’s not sure if he would let that slide, even for her. She’ll figure something out, Nancy tells herself. She always does.

It’s in one of the more general histories of the castle that Eddie finds something of interest. “Hey, what do you guys know about the Chamber of Secrets?”

Robin shakes her head, confused, but Nancy shrugs. “I mean, it’s a bit of a legend in Slytherin, but who knows if it’s real? Even I’ve heard of it, but I think they just use it to get the first years on side.”

“What do you mean?” Robin frowns, and Nancy grimaces.

“It’s not exactly a great story. Let Eddie tell it,” she deflects, nodding to the book still open in his hands. He gives her a long look but acquiesces, clearing his throat dramatically as he starts to recite from the page.

“The four founders of Hogwarts, Godric Gryffindor; Helga Hufflepuff; Rowena Ravenclaw; and Salazar Slytherin, built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.” Eddie raises an eyebrow, the action dripping with the scepticism only fostered by a muggleborn in Hogwarts, Robin smirking to herself similarly. Eddie has to take a second to regain his composure, grinning a little as he resumes. “For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, but a rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy.”

Robin starts to laugh, though there’s something flinty in her expression. “What an asshole.”

“Agreed,” Eddie mutters, holding a fist out that Robin happily bumps with her own. “Anyway, back to the bigotry. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.”

Nancy makes a face. So that’s what the Heir of Slytherin was supposed to be about. She had forgotten the title, had been too seized by the terror of Fred’s death to make the connection. “Merlin, I hate my life sometimes. I didn’t see it before. People really think I’m out here purging muggleborns?”

Robin raises a delicate eyebrow, ignoring the way that Eddie’s glowering at the page next to her. “Question is, if they wrote out ‘Heir of Slytherin’, is someone actually trying to do that?”

Nancy buries her head in her hands, groaning slightly. She just wanted a normal year: to take care of her brother, to see her best friend, to study. Instead, literally every waking moment has been plagued with murders and mysteries and Mike being a twat. She must have done something really awful to deserve this, but she’s coming up blank.

“Alright,” she gets out, drawing herself upwards once more and ignoring Robin and Eddie’s matching wary looks, which make them seem like they’re expecting some kind of break down. “So, we should focus on the Chamber. Either debunk that’s happening, or prove it.”

“Got it, boss,” Robin agrees, saluting her lazily as they all turn back to their tomes. The rest of the evening is passed in relative silence, only broken by frustrated sighs and the sound of books being discarded as they come up empty. They break at the end of the night with a promise to meet up again soon, even Eddie looking serious. They can’t afford to fail with this. No one else even seems to be looking past the obvious, at least in the castle. The Aurors might be trying, but if someone dies again, it’s going to be at Hogwarts. Nancy can’t help but feel like there’s an execution sentence hanging over her head. The ticking of the clock somewhere deep in her bones, counting down.

That night, staring up at the ceiling of her silent dorm, she swears she can almost hear it.

————

It turns out that Nancy is nowhere near as good at being secretive as she thought she was. Not only does Robin figure out what she’s up to with Eddie, but so does Jonathan. Though, she supposes, Will has never been able to keep a secret from him either, so he would have stumbled on the kids’ investigation sooner or later. He reluctantly joins their quasi-detective group, though she’s pretty sure that it’s more an attempt to protect his little brother. Jonathan had been even more mad about the kids’ attempt to figure this all out than she had been.

More and more people get increasingly blatant in their accusations of her. Nancy spends half her life with her gaze fixed on the ground, trying to ignore the jeers from students in colours other than silver and green for once. The other houses had never been particularly kind to Nancy, who is tarred by the same brush that all Slytherins are, but it had been her own house that had been responsible for the majority of the mocking. Not anymore. Hell, some of the Slytherins have been avoiding her, but others have been almost respectful instead of feared. As though they appreciate what they think she’s doing.

The very idea of people thinking that she killed them, especially of them wanting muggleborns dead in the first place, makes her feel sick to her stomach, but she doesn’t know how to handle it all except by raising her chin and acting as though it’s all beneath her. People notice her slipping out of the common room, going to meet Eddie and Jonathan and Robin, but they whisper instead that she’s going to scope out victims or plan more attacks. Fear is a powerful tool, Nancy realises, enough to make all but the worst bullies leave her alone. She doesn’t particularly like that people are afraid of her, of all people, but it serves its purpose.

“Heir of Slytherin,” Carol snarls at her in the halls, lips curled into a cruel sneer. Tommy looms over her shoulder, glowering down at her, and Nancy sighs. “Is that what you’re calling yourself now, Wheeler?”

“According to half the castle,” she bites back, giving them a barbed smile. Carol rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath.

Tommy leans over Carol’s shoulder, leering at her. “See, Wheeler, I don’t think you have the guts to be murdering mudbloods like this. Not a blood traitor brat like you.”

Nancy tries not to flinch at his words. Trust these two to think that being the Heir of Slytherin would be a badge of honour. A claim to fame. Nancy just wants to be left alone, to be above the whispers in the common room and the stares in the hall. “Do you have a point, Hagan?” She presses, staring him down. Tommy grins smugly.

“You’ll see, Wheeler.”

She tries not to bristle, preparing herself for a fight, but the two of them stride away without another word, and it just feels more ominous.

“You need to talk to Hawthorne about this,” Eddie stresses when she next sees him. He raises an eyebrow at her tired state. “I mean, Wheeler, you almost look dishevelled. That’s something I never thought I would ever say about you.”

“Are you finished?” She deadpans, giving him a long look.

Eddie laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t tell you so when you eventually collapse, though.”

Nancy sighs, but doesn’t bite back with anything. Maybe he has a point. Still, they must be close to it now. Everything feels on the urge of breaking, or bursting, or falling apart in general. Nancy doesn’t want to have to watch it happen.

She pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that half of their little crime fighting group are muggleborns themselves. She doesn’t think about how everyone except Barb has been a muggleborn. She doesn’t think about the appraising looks she is afforded, the nods of recognition she receives now. Nancy swallows all of that guilt and revulsion and worry down, the same way that she always does.

“Come on,” she gets out. “Jonathan and Robin are probably waiting for us.”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut for once, nodding and following along to the library. They were getting close, she knew it. Honestly, part of her was surprised that the others were still up for investigating it at all, but they had stuck by her. Nancy couldn’t help but feel almost nausea with how grateful it makes her, but she can never find the words to say it.

Sure enough, Jonathan and Robin are already at their usual table in the library, surrounded by stacks of books. They are the two members of their little detective group that talk the least — Robin is Steve’s friend, and everyone knows it. They settle into their seats for about a half hour before Robin jerks, eyes wide.

“Nancy.” Robin’s voice is sharp, sharper than she’s heard in a long time. “Have you seen this?” She passes over a thick book, dustier than a lot of the other ones that they’ve been looking at. Nancy frowns as she pulls it closer to her, peering over the text. The writing is small and tight, the page clearly aged, but she can still make it out.

She reads it aloud for the benefit of Eddie and Jonathan, and Robin’s worried frown only gets deeper as she goes on. “Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.”

“It doesn’t say how it kills, though,” Eddie points out. “How can we know it can do this levitation shit?”

“Is there anything else on basilisks in the book? Or the library?”

Robin shakes her head. “Not that I can see. I’ll go ask Pince.” She’s up and walking away before she’s even finished speaking.

Jonathan leans back in his chair, chewing at his lip. “So, what, you think this thing might be in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Chrissy and Fred were both muggleborns. It would mean that Barb’s disappearance has nothing to do with it,” Nancy counters, though both the boys look at carefully.

“Are you sure you don’t just want that to be true?”

She swallows. “I’ve looked into it. After this long, Barb is probably dead. Maybe through this, maybe not. I still want to find out. But we know what happened to Chrissy and Fred. Not Barb.”

Robin returns, shaking her head before any of them can even ask if there’s anything else on basilisks. “Whole fucking library, and not a single thing.”

“But if you think about it, it makes sense. Heir of Slytherin commanding a massive snake? Salazar was supposed to be a Parseltongue. Maybe the ‘heir’ is literal — you know, like someone who had inherited the same gift.”

Jonathan frowns even as he nods. “I suppose it makes sense, but it’s difficult to be sure without more information.”

“It’s not like we’ve found anything else. There doesn’t seem to be any kind of wand magic capable of what we are looking for. It makes sense if it’s an innate ability instead.”

Nancy nods. “I think it’s our best bet. Besides, the message in Fred’s blood directs us to the Chamber. There’s no mention of the Heir of Slytherin in anything else. I think it’s the best thing we’ve come up with yet.”

Robin slumps in her chair, a despondent expression settling over her face. “I hate to be a buzzkill, but if no one has found this mythical muggleborn killing chamber yet, how are we supposed to?”

Jonathan opens his mouth to say something before realisation washes over him and he deflates. “Ah. You might have a point there.”

“‘Might’. More than might. We’re fucked,” Eddie grumbles, burying his head in the pages of the book in front of him, the parchment muffling the sound of his words. Nancy doesn’t pay him any mind, though Robin takes the opportunity to start balancing sheets of notes on his head, seeing how high she can get the stack before it collapses. She reaches twelve before Eddie shifts his head and they all go fluttering to the ground, Robin pouting at the sight.

“This is still progress, though,” Nancy tries to reassure them, though she can deny it might be a big roadblock. “We can probably give it a rest, at least for this evening. See you guys later?”

Robin and Jonathan nod their agreement, Eddie making some strange noise of affirmation from where he is still planted in his book. Nancy turns the new lead over and over in her mind. There’s something about it that doesn’t fit, purely from lack of further information, but this might be their best real chance of figuring out what’s been killing students. She’s sure that she doesn’t want to still be in the dark when the murderer inevitably strikes again.

The next day, in the middle of an unremarkable breakfast, Nancy’s mind more focused on finishing her History of Magic essay at the last minute than what she’s actually got on her plate, a letter is dropped right on top of her toast.

“Merlin, Perrie, how many times are you going to get jam on my mail?” She grumbles as she brushes the crumbs off the parchment, ignoring Cassie’s laughter. Nancy recognises the writing with a start — only her brother could have scrawl that untidy. Across the Great Hall, Mike watches her intently, nodding for her to read it as she makes eye contact with him. She’s not quite sure why he’s acting so secretively, though it makes sense when she reads what he’s written.

I think I know when the next one will happen.

She looks up at him sharply, Mike nodding once more to confirm. Cassie gives her a weird look, craning her neck over her shoulder to see what she’s staring at. “What the hell is up with you, Wheeler? You’re being very weird lately.”

Nancy bites at her lip, contemplating whether or not she should let Cassie in on the investigation. She’s considered it, almost every time she’s talked to her, actually, but something holds her back. She knows that Cassie doesn’t think she’s killing people, but she also knows that she would probably tell her that the best way to end up getting murdered herself is by looking into what’s happening. Cassie would have a point as well, which is precisely why Nancy doesn’t say anything at all.

“Whatever, keep your secrets,” Cassie says, shrugging easily. She honestly doesn’t seem to mind Nancy’s hidden agenda, giving her all the more reason to keep the investigation from her. She doesn’t want any more people than necessary getting caught in the crossfire of this. The kids and Robin, Jonathan and Eddie are already way too many people. She can’t involve Cassie too. She’d ground Mike and his friends from it if she thought they’d listen. This is all she can do for now.

“You’re the best, Cassie,” Nancy says instead, laughing at the way that her friend’s lip curls up in disgust.

“Merlin, you’re a sap.”

“Shut up and help me finish this History of Magic essay.”

Cassie grimaces. “You could turn in a whole ream with nothing but your name on it and Binns would mark it the same, you know. Why bother?”

“Because some of us have pride in our academic standing,” Nancy sniffs haughtily, though she’s sure her growing smile ruins the effect. “That’s why I’m beating you.”

“Well, I’m certainly not helping you now,” Cassie mumbles, giving her a dark look, before getting up from the bench and walking away, giving her one last nod of acknowledgement before she goes, the only thing that stops Nancy from worrying if she’s done the impossible and actually upset the unflappable girl.

This gives her the opportunity she needs, though, as she rises from the bench herself, jerking her head towards the door when she makes eye contact with Mike. He meets her two minutes after she’s escaped herself, finding her in a side hallway. “What’s up, then? What have you found out?”

“I think it’s happening on equinoxes and solstices,” Mike tells her, voice hushed. “The 23rd was the September Equinox and that’s when Chrissy died. Fred died on the 21st of December.”

“Winter solstice,” Nancy fills in, eyes going wide. How did she not see this?

Mike nods gravely. “The next one is in March. Only two weeks away.”

“The 20th, right?” She remembers her charts from Astronomy well enough, even if she hates the damn subject. “Fuck, okay. We need to come up with a plan. Good spot, Mike.” She reaches out to ruffle his hair in affection, something in her chest snapping when he dodges out of the way with a scowl. “I’ll talk to the others. You can come study with us, you know? We might have a lead about what could be killing people.”

“What? Not who?”

Nancy frowns. “It’s complicated. Trust me. Bring your friends and we’ll talk about it.”

Mike nods, even if it seems forced and reluctant. She’s just glad that they seem to have limited their running about without supervision, even if they refuse to properly join forces with Nancy and her group. She watches him walk away with a sad frown, her shoulders a tense and hard line as the corners of her mouth tighten. Nancy doesn’t know what she’s done to push him away, and she’s trying to give him as much space as she can, but she won’t let him slip away completely. Mike will always be her little brother, even if he wants nothing to do with her. Nancy sighs to herself before heading to the Grand Staircase. She doesn’t have a chance in hell at finishing this essay on time. Hopefully Binns won’t notice either way.

————

Now that they have a deadline, the reading and studying ramp up as much as possible. Essays and notes fall by the wayside as they focus on finding everything that they can about basilisks. Unfortunately, that isn’t much, even with Dustin’s admittedly terrifying brain on their side. Honestly, there’s no surprise that the kid is in Ravenclaw with the way that he thinks. By the time that the evening of March 19th rolls around, they aren’t that much closer to answers, but the Chamber and a basilisk is all that they have to go on, so they decide to act on it. The uncertainty, however, does raise a point of discussion that she’d rather avoid.

“We are not bringing Steve Harrington to this,” Nancy protests, but Robin is already shaking her head. This is something they’ve gone over a couple of times, with Robin wanting to bring Steve in for extra-manpower but not wanting to make things awkward. They’re huddled in the hallway, night already having fallen.

“We need all the people we can get, Nancy, especially if we are going to be trying to keep a little gaggle of first years safe. Hell, why don’t we just lock them in their Houses?”

She can’t help but roll her eyes. “You don’t know my brother. The only time he’s ever worked hard at something is if it can end up being a pain in my ass. Why do you think I started investigating in the first place?”

Eddie laughs hollowly. “I suppose that’s fair. I find Harrington as annoying as the next person, but I’m up for bringing another body.”

Robin keeps her eyes focused on Nancy, something insistent in her eyes. “Come on, Nance. He’s kept out of this because I asked him to, but he won’t stay out of this if he thinks he can help.”

“Sounds like Steve,” she mumbles in her hands as she rubs them across her face. “Fine,” she concedes eventually. “Go get him. And Jonathan. We’ll gather the kids.”

Robin gives her a shaky nod before turning around and running off, hurried steps echoing in the draughty corridors.

Eddie watches her go with a forlorn look. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” Nancy laughs. “We have some eleven year olds to put in moral danger, come on.”

He shakes his head as he follows after her, jogging a bit to catch up. “You know, I blame you for the swift downward spiral my life has taken lately.”

“Hey, you’ve made friends. Granted, as part of a horrific murder mystery, but friends nonetheless.”

“Believe me,” he laughs, “you aren’t worth that. Like I said, I’m haunting your ass for years if I die here.”

She scoffs, used to the threat. It doesn’t take them long to reach Gryffindor Tower. Nancy would bet that they are all gathered there already. Sure enough, when Eddie manages to persuade someone to fetch Mike for them, a whole troop of first years come out with him. Max gives them her familiar glare, her fiery hair at odds with her red trimmed robes, but Dustin gives her a wide grin and a wave.

“There’s not a chance that we are bringing this many of them, Wheeler,” Eddie protests, not even looking at them. Mike harrumphs in annoyance, but Nancy doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Believe me, Eddie, I wish we didn’t have to, but they won’t give us a choice. What they will do, however,” and now she pins the lot of them with her iciest glare, “is stay behind everyone older than them. And they will listen to everything that we say.”

Silence hangs, tense and brittle until Mike gives them a small nod and each of them deflate, muttering their agreement. It doesn’t exactly fill her with confidence, but Nancy is pretty sure it’s the best that she’s going to get. El stares back with those strange solemn eyes of hers, but Nancy shakes it off, looking past her to Will, who looks shaky and pale.

“Will, are you sure you want to come? You look tired, come on. Why don’t you go to bed?”

He frowns, but shakes his head. “No,” Will says, voice small and trembling. “I’m coming.”

Nancy looks to Mike. If anyone could convince him to stay, it would be her brother. Mike turns back to him, a soft concern settling over him that she has only ever seen directed at Will. “Are you sure? It’s dangerous, Will.”

This only seems to harden Will’s resolve and he nods his head firmly. “I’m coming,” he repeats, stronger this time, and Mike looks at her helplessly.

“Fine,” Nancy relents, feeling her patience shorten. “But like I said. Behind us. Especially you, Will. Alright?” The kids nod. “Okay. Come on, we have to meet Robin, Steve and Jonathan.”

Eddie groans next to her as they set off through the halls, careful to avoid patrols and staff. The kids fall into step behind them, exchanging glances as they listen in. “I can’t believe you got me mixed up with a murderer as well as Harrington. Is one not bad enough?”

“Do you ever shut up, Eddie?”

The boy laughs, tossing his hair behind him. “Not really. Haven’t you caught on by now?”

She sighs, resigned. “Unfortunately.”

“You guys are weird,” Dustin chimes in from behind, making them both jump. “What, are you dating?”

“Don’t be gross, Henderson,” Nancy grimaces, glad to see that Eddie is wearing a similarly disgusted expression.

“Me and Wheeler are detective partners. She’s my Watson” Eddie crows gleefully, with only Dustin laughing at the joke, though Lucas and Max both seem to clock it, rolling their eyes with twin annoyed expressions.

Dustin gives the older boy a toothless smile. “I don’t know you, but Nancy is definitely a Sherlock.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” she says primly, giving Eddie a mocking look as he pretends to pout, but all the humour floods out of the situation when Jonathan, Robin and Steve meet them.

“So, what’s the plan?” Steve asks, a note of forced casualness to the words. “Robin didn’t have much of a chance to fill me in on the way over.”

Nancy cringes slightly, hoping that she covers it well enough. They both know why Steve hadn’t already been involved. “The Chamber of Secrets is real. Something is hiding in it. We think it’s a basilisk, and that’s how the kills have been happening.”

Steve frowns but nods, accepting the research that they had all done and clearly deciding to just go along with it. “Alright.”

It’s weird, standing in front of him now. She’s spent so much of this year avoiding him, dreading the moment she would be faced with her guilt about hurting Steve. Robin has been helping her, has been her friend, but the two of them are inseparable otherwise, even considering their year age gap. Even now, Steve and Robin seem to slot together like puzzle pieces, their heads tilting at exactly the same degree and their faces screwed up into the same thinking expressions.

Nancy is seized with the sudden need to look away, blushing furiously for some reason as she looks down at her feet and then back at the kids. That’s when she notices it.

“Will? Are you okay?”

He’s not frozen, not like Fred had been, but he’s wide-eyed and terrified, staring forward but unfocused, like he’s looking at something that isn’t there. “He’s here,” he manages to get out in a horrified whisper, breathless and thready. “Run.”

“Who is he?” Nancy demands, dropping to her knees before Will. Mike plants a hand on his shoulder and El is peering at him curiously but he doesn’t react to any of it. It’s only a split second before their whole group is clustered around him, silence gripping them all as they wait for answers. “Will?”

“Run,” he repeats, more urgently, but more faded as well, as though it’s taking effort for him to get the words out. Then his eyes roll back in his head, his skin going impossibly paler.

The noise that Jonathan lets out is entirely instinctive and enough to crack right through Nancy’s chest. It’s high-pitched and desperate and something that she never wants to hear again. He drops into a crouch right by Nancy and starts shaking his little brother by the shoulders. “What’s happening, Will? Come on, wake up.”

Nancy knows what he’s expecting. What he’s dreading. But Will doesn’t start rising or floating. In fact, something different seems to come over him, his eyes opening again, only they don’t seem like Will’s anymore. “You should have run,” he says, something different in his voice. Like he’s disappointed. Like he’s threatening them. Nancy isn’t surprised when half of the kids scramble backwards, and she’s glad to see Steve and Nancy shoving them behind their own bodies.

“Will!” Jonathan half-screams, tears freely falling now. “Will, come on! What are you doing?”

Down the hall, echoing and resounding, a sickening crack can be heard.

Nancy shoots upwards, Jonathan not looking away from his brother for even a second, but all of her attention is on the figure at the end of the hall, already suspended in the air, already with one limb bent at a grotesque angle. She’s scrambling towards him, running at full pelt, before she even realises it. “No!”

It’s only when she reaches him that she realises that it’s Patrick McKinney, a Gryffindor and member of the Quidditch team. She remembers playing him. He hadn’t been as cocky as the others. He had given her a kind smile, nodded at her in recognition. Now, blood drips from his eye sockets, soulless holes where once had been kind brown eyes, and Nancy can only just reach his foot to try and tug him back to the ground. All of a sudden, she’s back where she was at the end of December, watching Fred die in front of her. She hadn’t been able to help him.

Nancy has to be able to save Patrick. Otherwise this all was for nothing.

Someone pushes her out of the way, able to jump higher than her and take a grip of Patrick’s ankle properly. Steve’s face crumples with effort, straining as much as he can to pull Patrick downwards, with Eddie coming to help as well, but Nancy can already tell there’s not much that they will be able to do. Whatever it is that the basilisk does to its victims, she’s not sure how to stop it. Only how to kill the basilisk itself.

Vaguely, she can hear Mike calling to El somewhere behind them, maybe back with Will. He keeps shouting for her to help, but Nancy can’t take her eyes off of Patrick. Another one of his limbs snaps, the crack running through her own bones, the feeling sick and chilling.

“Patrick!” Steve shouts, his voice high and desperate. But there’s nothing that they can do to stop the boy’s neck from breaking, his jaw shunted to the side in a way that makes his corpse almost unrecognisable when it drops back to the ground. “Fuck!” He curses, scrambling backwards as the blood pools over his shoes. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Nancy stares hollowly at Patrick’s body. Hopelessness rushes over her, cold and empty. They never had a chance. This was all about stopping the killer and, instead, Patrick died right before their eyes. The strange detachedness that spreads through her makes the pieces clicking together just feel all the more horrific. “I thought we would be safe until tomorrow.”

Steve checks his watch, mouth tightening. “It’s two minutes past midnight.”

“Motherfucker.”

Nancy shakes her head, looking numbly at the two boys. “Will knew what was going to happen. It’s him.”

“What?” Steve looks at her in disbelief, but Eddie worries at his lip, nodding along.

“He told us to run. He said ‘he’s here’. I thought it meant that the Heir was near, but it’s something in him. That took over him.”

“It’s possessing him,” Eddie says, craning back to look at the gaggle of kids a couple of steps away, still clustered around Will. Jonathan meets their gaze, something hopeless in him as he tries to shake his brother away. Nancy strides over, a cold feeling settling over her. They have to find a way to save Will, to stop this.

The three of them, her and Eddie and Steve, are only a few paces away when Will seems to snap back to himself, looking around at all of them with panic and fear in face. Nancy spots it the second before it happens, the inevitability of what’s about to happen, but she doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Will pulls himself free of Jonathan’s grip and throws himself down the hall, running faster than she’s ever seen him move.

Jonathan stumbles back to his feet proper, anguish playing across his face. “What the hell is going on?”

“Why couldn’t you help him, El?” Max presses, not accusatory but urgent. She isn’t talking about Patrick, Nancy realises. She’s talking about Will.

“How long has Will been like this?” She demands, all of the kids growing grey at her question. “How long has he been possessed?”

Mike shakes his head. “We only just realised. Same as you.”

“But we knew something was wrong,” Lucas confesses, staring at her instead of absorbing the betrayed looks that his friends shoot him. They hadn’t wanted her to know. Maybe for anyone to know.

El shifts on her feet. “I tried,” she says, voice low. “His grip on Will is strong. I just needed longer. I need to go into the void properly.”

“What the fuck is she talking about?” Steve cries, a frazzled look in his eyes, only responding to Robin’s calming hand on his shoulder.

El doesn’t look at anyone except Mike, something insistent in the way that she stares at him. He returns it unwaveringly. “How?”

“I need more focus. Blindfold. Earmuffs.”

Nancy squeezes her eyes shut, hands clenched into fists. She’s losing patience. Will’s footsteps have already faded, but she thinks she knows where he’s going. “What are you talking about?”

Mike turns to her, something steady and even in his face. He’s never looked at her like he’s trusted her like this. “We can save Will. She can. She’s special. Different.”

Nancy hesitates, feeling the weight of the moment bearing down on her. A tight feeling constricts her chest, like someone has a fist tightening around her lungs. She feels the grip of something on her, someone has caught hold of her shoulder and does not intend to let go. She pushes it away, moving past it as best she can as she decides to take the leap. “Fine. Go get whatever you need. Will has to be headed to the Chamber. He’s the Heir, or he hosts it. Meet at the second-floor girls’ room.”

Mike nods, taking off down the hall without another word, his friends following him without question. Nancy watches him for barely a second before she turns back to Jonathan, Steve, Robin and Eddie.

“What the hell are we going to do, Nancy?” Jonathan asks, looking wrecked. “That’s my brother.”

“I know. We’ll save him. I swear.”

Jonathan nods shakily, looking around at the others. Nancy knows what he’s thinking. Half of her wants to leave them behind, to make sure that they stay safe. None of them signed up for this. She’s sure that Jonathan won’t stop until his brother is safe, but Eddie and Robin have done more than enough, and Steve has nothing to do with this anyway.

“Steve, Eddie, Robin. You guys should go.”

“Not a chance, Nancy,” Steve shoots back instantly. He runs a stressed hand through his hair, betraying his fear and nerves, but he looks steadily back at her as he shakes his head. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“Ditto,” Robin says, giving her a faint smile. “Come on, Nance, we’ve come too far now.”

Eddie grimaces, looking frustrated with himself even as he says, “not abandoning you now, Watson.”

Nancy nods, steeling herself somewhat, as she straightens her spine. “Come on, then. I think I know where the Chamber is.”

They make their way to the otherwise unremarkable bathroom, with Nancy explaining that she had noticed the snake insignias across the tap the week before and hadn’t thought anything of it until now, because she noticed Will skulking around the second floor more often than anywhere else. She had thought that he was just struggling to adjust, had offered whatever help she could give, but now it makes sense. She’s still not sure, at least until they reach the bathroom and find Will’s cloak discarded before the open passageway where the sinks had once been.

“He’s down there,” Jonathan says, sounding empty. He makes to jump down the pipe, its width only just enough to fit a person, but Nancy stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“We need to wait for the kids.”

“Nancy-” he beseeches her, eyes wide, but she shakes her head.

“We can’t do anything without El. We need the kids to save him.”

It hurts to stop him. She wants to drop down into the Chamber almost as much as he does. Nancy hates the idea of not being able to help Will, but she won’t get the rest of them killed if she can help it. Thankfully, it only takes a couple more moments for the kids to come skidding into the bathroom, urgency on their faces. They have a blindfold and some covers for El’s ears in their hands, though Nancy still doesn’t know why they would be necessary.

“Are you ready?” Steve checks one last time, looking over all the kids with a worried frown. It almost makes her want to laugh — Steve has always been the hovering type, but it’s almost more endearing to see it directed at the kids as opposed to her. Mike frowns, bristling as he steps forward.

“We have to save Will, of course we’re ready.”

Steve grimaces, but lets him shove past him anyway, Mike throwing himself down the tunnel to the passage first, closely followed by Jonathan. Nancy lowers herself gently into the mouth of the pipe before letting go. It’s like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide, the tunnel twisting and turning harshly, gravity yanking her along its path. Wind whistles past her face, the cold of the underground passage even worse than in the dungeons and she knows that falling deeper below the school than even the Slytherin dungeons. All of a sudden, the pipe levels out, and she shoots out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the chilly floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. She gets up gingerly, moving out of the way as Robin comes tumbling out after her with a yell.

Nancy doesn’t hide her smile as she helps the other girl up, laughing at the way that she scowls and brushes herself down. “These are my only clean robes and now they’re all gross.”

“Sorry, but I’m pretty sure we have bigger problems,” Nancy manages through her grin, even as Robin rolls her eyes.

“Fine, but this is still your fault.”

“Can you two shut up?” Max gets out with her trademark dark look, threatening even though her face is still rounded and baby-ish.

Steve is the last of them to come down, cursing as he falls on his ass, and Nancy can’t help but giggle at that sight as well. He gives her a fond look that makes her flush with embarrassment as she quickly diverts her gaze.

“Nice landing, dingus,” Robin drawls as she grins at him, not even making an effort to help him to his feet. Steve pokes his tongue out in her direction, making a mocking expression, but his features fall back into a serious look as he casts his gaze down the tunnel.

Dustin casts Lumos, a dim light in the creeping blackness that hangs throughout the corridor. The stone walls are slimy in a way that makes Nancy think that they must be under the Great Lake, miles under the school. They wordlessly start to make their way down the path, their footsteps echoing loudly and wetly, the light from their wands barely enough to penetrate the darkness. Nancy can’t help but feel her anticipation grow, creeping through her. Her eyes dart to Robin and Eddie. Muggleborns. She can’t stop thinking that she might be leading them to their deaths. They’ve come too far to stop now, though.

Eventually, they come to the entrance of a chamber, the doors to it cracked in half and hanging from the massive doorway. The hallway stretches, columns etched with snakes stretching up to a gloomy ceiling dripping with lake water. A strange and sinister green gloom seems to hang in the air as they creep further into the tunnel. They all move as a group, silently making their way deeper in, no one willing to break the tense silence, until they spot Will, lying crumpled on the steps before some statue of a snake, half-supporting himself with an arm.

“Will!” Jonathan cries, rushing forward. Will’s face is deathly pale and clammy, sweat beading on his forehead. His eyes are mostly closed, and he’s mumbling something under his breath. The second that Jonathan reaches him, he shoots upwards, looking panicked around at the group of them as he tries to scramble away.

“Hey, hey,” Nancy breathes, keeping her voice as low and calm as possible. Will snaps his head to look at her, terror etched into his features. “It’s not your fault, Will. Everything is going to be okay,” she promises. She reaches a hand out, hoping that no one else can see how much it’s shaking. There’s no telling how long whatever is possessing Will has had him in its grip and there’s no telling when it will take over again. The ominous dread that feels like a hand around her neck gets tighter. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“Nancy-”

She shushes Jonathan without even turning around, too scared to take her eyes off of Will. He looks tiny in the flickering torchlight, the stretched shadows turning threatening and looming, only making the fear on his face look more pronounced.

“I promise, Will. We know this isn’t you. Everything is going to be okay.”

Nancy is staring so closely at Will, determined to focus on him rather than the rising fear in her own chest, that she spots the exact moments that his eyes cloud over, cold and cruel anger taking the place of paralysing terror. She doesn’t have a chance to yell anything, though, before everything goes black for a second, almost blinding in its impossible blackness.

When her vision returns, the whole chamber is warped, tinged with red and hazy like she’s remembering it through a dream, or as if someone has placed a filter over her eyes. Fear lances through her, racing up and down her spine till every nerve feels like it’s on fire.

“Will?” Nancy calls, trying to keep her voice from shaking too much. “Will? Can you hear me?”

The room only warps around her and, when she turns around, she suddenly realises why she feels pinpricks on the back of her neck: no one else is behind her anymore. Robin, Jonathan, Mike and all of his friends. Everyone is gone except for her. Nancy rises unsteadily to her feet, reaching into her pocket for her wand, but she comes up empty.

She’s never without her wand.

Nancy’s heart races in her chest, and she turns wildly in circles, searching for a sign of anyone else in the chamber with her. Suddenly, a grating voice echoes, like the harsh sound of a knife against stone.

“Nancy.”

The voice draws out the vowels in her name, making it echo against the walls of the chamber. The sound of it resounds in her chest, every part of her feeling it reverberate through her.

“Who’s there?!” She yells, the sound of it swallowed up by the room. The voice only laughs at her, low and sinister.

“Even with all your studying and investigating, you have no idea what’s going on. Do you, Nancy? It’s all just to cover up how helpless you really are.”

Panic crawls up her throat, bitter like bile and defeat. “I was wrong about the basilisk but I realised you possessed Will.”

The voice laughs again, like it’s toying with her. “All too late. You got Fred killed and Patrick killed and little Barbara Holland killed as well.”

“No,” she swears, shaking her head. It’s all she can do as fear creeps through her. No, I didn’t.”

“You drove her away,” the scraping voice echoes in the chasm of Nancy’s own head, because that’s what this must be. “You made it so easy for me to snatch her up. Nancy Wheeler, so caught up in her own drama, in her own isolation, in her books and whether or not people like her silly little school house. You are the reason that she wandered right into my grasp. You are the reason that she’s dead.”

Nancy can’t help but curl up into a ball, ducking her head into the gap between her knees. It’s all the things she’s told herself in her worst nightmares, all the truths that she’s dreaded and shoved away. What’s almost worse is the confirmation that Barb is dead. She had hoped and hoped that her friend would turn up, but Nancy had known the chances were small. That doesn’t make it easy to know the truth. “No, no, no.”

“Yes, Nancy, you are.”

She’s only half aware of the tears tracking down her face as she buries her head in her knees. Her chest tightens to the point where she can hardly breathe, her head spinning. Maybe that’s why she puts it together embarrassingly slowly. Merlin, Nancy’s supposed to be smart. She almost has to scold herself over it.

This is what all the victims went through before they died. This is what they saw, what they heard. This is the fear that they felt. They hadn’t realised it — her, Robin, Eddie. The kids. How could they? It’s not like there had been survivors to ask. They had all thought that it was just a particularly brutal way of killing people, snapping all their bones and disfiguring them completely. They hadn’t realised that they had seen visions. Now there was nothing they could do. Maybe Nancy is already dead. Maybe she’s stuck here, in this hellscape, for the rest of her existence, getting the torture she deserves for not being able to save her best friend. Maybe her friends and her brother are already standing around her broken and destroyed body.

“Yes,” the voice whispers, almost sounding eager now. Nancy collapses to her knees. A prisoner in her own head. “You’re already gone, Nancy. But you can let go now. I only need four. You let go, and no one else gets hurt.” Everything gets duller around the edges, the world beginning to fade from view as her throat closes up, all on its own. Maybe this is the moment that her neck snapped. Maybe this is the end now.

That wouldn’t be so bad, she thinks to herself as her mind grows fuzzy. Letting go wouldn’t be so bad at all.

Just as her lack of air almost gets painful, she manages to put something together in her clouded head. “You only need four?” She chokes out. Patrick, Fred, Chrissy, Barb. That should make four already. “But I’m five.”

The voice tuts. “Barbara wasn’t what I needed. But you could be.”

Regret floods through her along with hopelessness. Barb’s death had all been for nothing. There hadn’t even been a reason, and it was still all Nancy’s fault. She might as well let go. No one would miss her anyway.

All of a sudden, everything pauses. The world stops twisting and spinning and warping around her. Some weight, one she previously hadn’t even been aware of, lifts from her spine. For the first time, when she looks around, Nancy’s not faced with some nightmarish landscape. There’s no red burning skies, no gnarled rotting trees, no creeping vines. There’s just darkness. Pure void and nothingness stretching out for forever. It makes her head hurt, until she realises that there’s something left to hurt, and relief takes over her, burning and rushing through her veins like something intoxicating. It’s like taking the first breath of air after breaking through water. “Hello!” She calls, desperate for something. “Is anyone there?”

“Nancy.”

She starts at the sound of her name, but it isn’t the same grating voice, the one that sounded like bone scraping together, that had made every hair on her skin stand on end. Nancy whirls around and finds herself face to face with El, a serious look on her tiny face, blood dripping from her nostril.

“What the hell?”

“You’re safe.”

Nancy swipes at her eyes, wiping away the tears roughly. Despite the fact that the strange warped red version of the chamber is gone now, replaced with this strange darkness, the fear keeps pounding through her, strange now that there seems to be nothing to be scared of. “Where are we?”

“My void.”

Nancy tries not to yell as she says, “what does that even mean, El?!”

“You’re okay, Nancy,” she says instead, steady and uncompromising. “You can wake up now. It’s okay.”

And, just like she said, Nancy jolts, suddenly back in her body in the real world. She understands that she’s hanging in the air for a split, almost endless moment, her entire body weightless, before she crumples and falls back to the ground, arms reaching out and catching her before she collides with the hard stone. Robin’s face peers down at her. Nancy’s vision is still hazy, but she swears she can see the worry in her eyes still.

“Nancy!”

“I’m okay,” she chokes out, stumbling as she’s set back on the ground properly, only realising now that it took the combined effort of Steve and Robin to break a fall that probably would have cracked her head open. “What the fuck happened?”

“He tried to take you,” El says simply, the same river of blood streaming from her nose that she had seen in the void. “I stopped him.”

Nancy doesn’t wait to say that it makes no sense, that whatever she’s trying to say isn’t settling with her. She doesn’t have time. “Where’s Will? Is he okay?”

“I stunned him.” Mike’s voice is hard, even if his eyes are wide with fear. He trie to take a step towards Nancy before hesitating, something shaken in his expression as he stares at her, like he can’t believe she’s still standing there. Nancy can see Will now, a crumpled pale body, far smaller than should be possible, at the feet of the steps. Lucas sits next to him, holding his hand as everyone discusses what to do, fear plain on his face. “We need to get him out of Will.”

Nancy coughs, clearing her throat as she wraps her arms around her own torso, hugging tight as she tries to ground herself back in reality. The iron grip that she had felt on her throat beforehand, the thing that she had attributed to dread, is gone now. Nancy feels foolish for not realising what it really had been. She had been an idiot the whole time. There never was a basilisk down here, even if the Chamber of Secrets was real. Muggleborns were never even the real target, if Nancy could have been the fourth victim for whatever the voice had needed.

She’s been stumbling around in the dark this whole time.

But now, Nancy thinks to herself, now she can catch up.

“I heard a voice. The Heir or whatever. Who is he?” The kids all shift guilty, and Nancy’s voice hardens when she spots Dustin shaking his head wildly at something that Max whispers to him. “He almost just killed me, so you might want to come clean.”

Mike meets her stare evenly, before something in him softens and he relents, guilt blooming across his features. “Vecna.”

Nancy shakes her head, cold terror washing over her like an icy wave. “No. He’s supposed to be gone.”

“It isn’t all of him,” El says simply, the same steadiness to her. It almost makes Nancy want to snap. “Just a part. I don’t know how, but it is him. I know it.”

“How?” Eddie presses, a panicked look in his eyes, but Mike shakes his head, glaring at them all.

He’s silent for a second and that’s all it takes for the worry that lies behind his frustration to bleed through. “We need to stop talking about this and help Will!”

“He’s right,” Jonathan says. “I don’t care why we do what we do, we just need to do it.”

El nods, re-tying the blindfold that Nancy hadn’t noticed was hanging around her neck. Max slips the earmuffs back over her ears, patting her shoulder worriedly. El lets her eyes close, and Nancy finds that her breath catches in her chest. She’s not really sure what to expect — the last time that El had apparently done this trick, she had been a little caught up in her own head. Quite literally. Now, though, she can’t tear her eyes away, watching closely.

Robin leans into her, and it’s only because of how used Nancy is to picking up tension in the other girl that she notices the strained undertones to her voice. “You know, I really thought we were going to lose you.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Nancy confesses honestly.

Robin shifts on her feet, something wary on her face. “I mean, it was terrifying. Your eyes just rolled back and you went completely stiff and unresponsive, like Patrick had been. Like you described Fred. I thought you were going to die.” It’s only now that Nancy notices the tense line of Robin’s shoulders and the way that the other girl’s hands are shaking. She doesn’t overthink it, finding that she’s reaching out to intertwine their hands before she can stop herself. Robin deflates, sending her a fragile but grateful smile as she knots their fingers together. Her skin feels burning against Nancy’s, and it’s only when she realises that her shoulders are shaking that it’s because Nancy’s own is freezing.

Steve checks over Nancy worriedly, and she lets it happen if only because she can’t face the panicked expression he still wears. By the third time that he’s patting her over looking for injuries, though, she gets him by the shoulders, fixing him with a genuine smile, if slightly firm. “Steve, I’m okay. I promise.”

“Right,” he manages, voice faint, before returning to Robin’s other side. The girl laughs at him, pulling him close with an arm around his waist that he instantly sinks into, a practised movement. Familiar jealousy burns in her, though Nancy has no idea why.

Eddie sidles up to her now, pressing his side into hers in something that she guess is supposed to be a hug. “I thought you were going to be the one haunting me for a second, Wheeler,” he jokes, but she can spot the strained edge to his smile. She laughs, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine,” she says, though she’s not entirely sure that she believes it herself.

She’s saved from anyone else’s concern by Dustin, who starts emitting a strange static noise from his wand. She’s never heard of a spell that can do that, but Mike gives her a look clearly meant to silence any questions that Nancy might have. She colours, annoyed that she’s so apparently predictable.

Fresh blood starts to trickle from El’s nose, scarlet red retracing where dried blood still stains. A couple of feet away, where Lucas cradles him, Will starts to jerk, eyes rolling back into his head as he seizes. “He’s fighting me,” El says, fear creeping into her voice.

Mike looks worriedly over at Will, concern etched into every corner of his face. “Do you think you get his grip off of Will?”

“I need more,” El pushes, Mike making a face but not protesting.

He turns to the older kids. “Which of you has the best levitation charm?”

Jonathan sighs, stepping forward. “Mine is the best other than Nancy’s. She needs a break.”

She tries to protest, but Robin’s grip on her hand tightens, the other girl grimacing as she shakes her head. Nancy deflates, slotting herself back into Robin’s side. Jonathan sends her a smile as he brings his wand out, casting a quick levitation charm on El when Mike directs him to, though he gives him a strange look. By now they’ve all figured out that the kids won’t answer any of their questions, though, so he clearly saves it for later.

Will snarls, something cruel flitting across his features even as he writhes. She can see the pain in Jonathan’s face as he watches, but he keeps his levitation of El steady, the weightlessness apparently helping her focus as her brow furrows with renewed determination.

The whole thing seems to last forever, El hovering limply in the air, blood dripping to the stone below from her nose whilst Will struggles against Lucas, trying to escape. It’s not Will, though. She feels helpless watching from afar, unable to do anything to help, but she barely has any idea what’s going on, let alone how to contribute. Eventually, though, something seems to snap, Will gasping as his eyes fly open, the usual warm brown much darker instead. A scream is wrenched out of him, high pitched and desperate and enough to make Nancy want to cry. She has to look away for a second, but when she turns back, Will has slumped into Lucas’ arms, entirely limb. She catches sight of the gentle movement of his breathing before she can panic too much. Jonathan brings El down carefully, running to his brother before her feet even touch the ground. Mike steadies her, helping her get the blindfold off, discarding the fabric carelessly to the side as he checks over her.

Once it’s clear that everyone is alright, Steve steps forward, looking on the brink of a breakdown. “Alright, I think there needs to be some explanation, now. What the fuck did we just watch?”

Dustin gives them an incredulous look. “Did you really think that the one person who could defeat Vecna, as a baby as well, wouldn’t have special powers? Come on, dude?”

Steve looks stumped at that, tearing at his hair with his hands. He clearly hadn’t been expecting such a blunt response. “‘Special powers’ is not exactly filling in the details, kid! What the hell is going on?”

“He had Will. Time and distance affect magic, so he was using him to get to others. And kill them. I stopped him,” El ‘fills him in’, and Steve stares at her for almost a full five seconds before throwing his hands up in the air and walking back to Robin’s side, muttering under his breath about stupid kids and stupid plots. Nancy almost wants to laugh at the sight.

She looks over at Will instead, the exhausted looking kid finally opening his eyes as Jonathan fusses over him, grumbling as they make their way back over to the rag-tag group in the middle of the chamber. It feels a bit useless to have so many of them here now, but to be fair, they had been expecting to battle a massive basilisk.

“I can’t believe we were so wrong,” Eddie gripes, practically reading her mind, as he looks around the room. “Aside from the heavy-handed snake motif, there’s no sign of any bloody basilisk.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing, Eddie,” Robin drawls, even though Eddie scoffs at her eye roll.

“Are you joking? I’ve never read so many fucking books in my life. All for nothing.”

Nancy sighs. “We’re alive, so consider it for that, even if there was no basilisk.”

Robin snorts. “To be fair, how were we supposed to guess that someone was possessed?”

“Why was he killing people like this, though? Why not just use the Killing Curse?” Steve asks, and it’s a good point. Nancy frowns to herself, running over the horrific things that Vecna had told her, even if it makes every hair on her body stand up in fear.

“He said he needed four. And he was killing on astronomical events. Maybe it was some kind of ritual to bring him back to power?”

Mike shrugs. “We don’t know either.”

“But you knew it was Vecna,” Nancy says, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Why the hell didn’t you just tell us?”

“We didn’t know what you would do to Will,” Lucas confesses, barely more than a whisper.

Steve grimaces, shaking his head. “Merlin, he’s a kid, what the hell do you think we would do?”

The kids’ silence is incriminating enough for bile to rise in Nancy’s throat as Mike refuses to meet her eyes. Good to know exactly what he thinks of her. “Right,” she says bitterly. She collapses onto the stone steps that Will had been strewn on not too long ago.

Steve approaches her nervously, staring at her for a second as though she might bite his head off for even looking at her, before sitting gingerly next to her. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” Nancy’s voice is hollow and Steve scoffs humourlessly.

“Yeah, I suppose that was a stupid question.”

Nancy rubbed roughly at her eyes, not because she’s crying, but because of how much they ache. She only realises it now, but she’s completely exhausted.

“People have to know it’s over,” Steve says eventually, running a hand through his hair as he sighs. He’s done it so many times tonight that it’s stuck up in every direction and he doesn’t seem to realise it. “They can’t just be scared forever.”

“Is it, though? You said he needed four.”

She shrugs. “El says he is gone from Will. How can he touch us here otherwise?”

“I guess,” Steve relents, though he frowns. “So, what, we just announce it in front of the school?”

There’s a beat of silence before Nancy shakes her head in defeat. She knows exactly what to do even if she doesn’t want to. “We do it the same way that they announced the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Nancy, what are you talking about?”

“Wait here.”

It doesn’t take her long, even with how badly her hands are shaking, to get a bucket and conjure some red liquid. It doesn’t have to be blood. Just look like it. Despite everything that’s happened, despite the earth shattering changes that have occurred in her world, the halls are still empty, the rest of the castle sleeping peacefully like nothing had happened.

When she reaches Patrick’s discarded body, she almost can’t manage it, but she doesn’t have a choice. It takes her a couple of tries, having to Scourgify the writing a few times when her shaking hands makes the lettering unclear, but she gets it done eventually.

Nancy always gets it done.

Written in ‘blood’ on the wall, the giant words ‘it is finished’ stare back at her, Patrick’s dead body strewn at the base of it. She thinks she might vomit, so she vanishes the bucket as fast as she can before returning to the others.

They’re all still huddled in the middle of the room, both El and Will finally getting some colour back in their faces.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks, his voice tight and worried. “You just left.”

“We had to tell people it was over somehow, so I put a message next to Patrick’s body. I don’t think anyone saw me, but even if they did, they already think it’s me.”

His eyebrows rise a little in shock before he schools his features back into a mask of calm. “Right. And you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Mike.” She tries not to be too short with him, but she’s tired. Nancy is pretty sure she’s never been this tired before.

She sits back down on the steps in the draughty, echoing, damp chamber where everything had changed. It’s like there should be a countdown leading up to the moment that someone had finally told her that it was Vecna possessing Will, and a continuing count of every second that comes after, because how could anything ever be the same again?

He’s gone, though, Nancy tells herself, even if she thinks the sound of his voice, like something grating and rasping against stone and bone, is ingrained in her for the rest of time.

“I thought you were going to die,” Mike confesses, voice hollow. It sends a spark of grief though Nancy, but she feels emptied out too, and she can only flinch before ducking her head.

“So did I,” she says, and it might not be fair to put that on her little brother, but it’s true as well. She suddenly feels a lot younger, a lot less, than she did moments before.

Mike lowers himself to sit next to her gently, looking at her with something that might be guilt. She doesn’t know how to wash it off of him, not when it stains her too. “We can’t tell people it was Will,” he confesses quietly, not quite able to look at her when she turns to face him. Her brother’s eyes are marred with purple bruises, evidence of sleepless nights and just how much he has been pouring into this situation. Nancy looks forward again, only just stopping herself from running a hand over her jaw, because her hands are still stained with red paint and she can’t stop picturing it as Patrick McKinney’s blood. Every muscle in her body aches, the bone chilling fear and whatever control that voice had wielded over her making her shake slightly as she tucks her hands under her robes.

“Obviously,” she drawls, proud that her voice doesn’t shake. “I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t throw him to the wolves like that.”

Mike frowns, like he doesn’t quite believe her, and Nancy is too tired to fight the bitter hurt that rears its head in her chest. “I mean it, Nancy.”

“So do I, Mike,” she bites back. He scowls.

“People are going to draw their own conclusions.”

And that’s the real crux of the matter, isn’t it? Mike isn’t saying that she can’t blame Will, he’s saying that she has to let people blame her, if they want to. Half the school is already convinced that it was her, with the rest blaming Eddie, just because he’s a little odd. She had never really figured out why they thought it might be him: she made a far better suspect. Nancy sighs. It would hurt more if she hadn’t already figured it out, but realising just how willing Mike is to sacrifice her to protect the people he actually cares about still stings a little.

“I know, Mike.”

He nods, apparently satisfied for now. “Thank you for helping,” he eventually adds, after the silence between them has dragged on long enough for both of them to feel uncomfortable.

Nancy winces. It’s like a kick to the stomach, his lack of belief that she’s a good person. “Yeah, whatever,” she mutters, too limp and tired to be cutting at all, but enough to make his eyebrows draw together in a confused frown. She doesn’t wait around to clear it up for him, rising from the steps and dusting blood and rubble off her hands. She’s not sure how to play this all, literally in a position to be caught red-handed if the wrong people see her, but she shoves her hands into her pockets all the same. No one can see the way that she balls them up into fists. “See you around, Mike,” she throws over her shoulder as she walks away

Her stubborn brother, though, never one to know when to let something lie, springs up and strides after her, his hand heavy on her shoulder as he pulls Nancy around to face him. “Why are you being such a dick?” He presses, fury burning in his eyes, and she’s not sure if it’s left over from just having to deal with the horrific thing possessing his best friend or if this is all genuinely directed at Nancy. Somewhere, she knows he doesn’t mean it. Mike has always sparked off when he’s been unable to deal with a situation, even when he was little. But it’s the proverbial straw across the proverbial camel’s back and Nancy finds her own anger rising in her chest.

She brushes his hand off, trying her best not to sneer as she pins him with a hard look. “I’m glad Will is okay, Mike, of course I am. But people are dead and he tried to kill me, and everyone is very happy to let the world believe that it’s my fault. I am not going to apologise for being a little fucking upset about that. Will is going to be fine, but my best friend is still dead!”

Mike flinches as Nancy spits the words, his hand, still raised, dropping limply to his side. “I know,” he manages, suddenly so small and guilty and remorseful that Nancy can’t help but feel at least a little of her anger flood away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not fine,” he insists, shaking his head, like he can’t believe that things in the world can end like this. He’s only eleven, she reminds herself, the reality like a knife in her gut, twisting and catching on her insides. He’s only eleven, of course he still wants the world to be simple and solvable. To him, the mystery is over, the culprit caught, and everything should go back to the way that it was. But it can’t, because Barb is dead and Fred is dead and she can’t help but think that this is the beginning of something much darker.

“Everyone was so focused on who it could be and why. No one seems to care that Barb isn’t going to come back,” Nancy says, more like a whisper, more to herself than anything. Mike flinches all the same. She shakes her head, curling in on herself a little. “It’s fine, Mike. We did all that we could. None of this is your fault.”

She turns to go again, freezing when Mike calls back, “it’s not yours either, Nancy.”

She stiffens, not quite able to believe him. There’s nothing she can really say to that, though the way he says the words makes her go cold. Like it’s the truth, plain and simple, when the truth rarely is. She thinks of the words that the voice had hissed, just as convinced of their validity as Mike is of his own. Nancy shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to make blood well up, and continues to walk away, not for one second turning around.

Nancy weathers the stares and the whispers and the blatant accusations hissed behind hands as she strides through the common room, walking straight for the stairs instead of taking in the scene around her. She knows that her hands are shaking, can feel the tense line of her shoulder in the frowning ache at the base of her neck, but she doesn’t let her head drop even for a second, chin raised and mouth a sharp line until the dormitory door is closed behind her. It feels weird to miss when people just hated her instead of hating her and fearing her at the same time.

Cassie rises, uncoiling from her position on Nancy’s own bed, clearly lying in wait. Joanna and Lucy are nowhere to be found, likely gossiping and trading secrets down in the common room. Nancy doesn’t even look at her as she heads straight for the bathroom. “You going to tell me what happened, Wheeler?” The other girl drawls, leaning in the doorway, though they both know that she won’t. Nancy tamps down on the frustration and anger curling in her chest, doing her best not to snap at Cassie.

She wheels around, flint in her eyes all the same. “No,” she grits out, Cassie not even flinching.

“Hmm, okay.”

“Okay?” Nancy presses, reaching for the tap with shaking hands, still stained with thick and sticky blood. The cold water makes her skin prickle just a little as she scrubs, quickly rubbing her hands raw as she tries to wash the blood away. It lingers under her nails, stubborn and unyielding, just long enough that Nancy feels tears begin to well in her eyes. She shuts the water off quickly, heaving deep breaths that only just keep her breakdown at bay. Cassie stares back at her in the mirror, a shadow over her shoulder.

“Okay,” she repeats, like this is nothing, voice mild and measured. There’s a familiar tick in her face, though, because it's impossible to spend three years living right beside someone and not learn their habits just a little. Cassie’s right eyebrow quirks, pulling together into a frown for just a split second before she smooths it out. Nancy isn’t sure why it isn't more comforting that Cassie knows she’s blatantly and restrains herself anyway.

Nancy braces herself slightly against the sink, her shaking hands clutching the porcelain in an iron grip. It leaves wet and bloody handprints, but Nancy can wash them away later, she reminds herself. Her eyes slip closed as she tries to take a steadying breath. Everything can just be washed away.

“What do you need me to do, Wheeler? Cover story?”

Nancy flinches. She is the cover story. “No,” she gets out, her voice flat and resigned even to her own ears. “No cover story. Let people believe what they want.”

“They’ll believe you killed those people. There’s been another, hasn’t there?”

It’s obvious, considering Nancy’s state, but she tenses anyway. Cassie pins her with a look, curious and uncompromising. “Yes,” Nancy concedes.

Cassie sucks in a breath, nodding. She doesn’t ask Nancy how she knows, or why his blood is staining their bathroom sink. “Alright.”

“I didn’t kill them,” Nancy blurts, a sudden need to just be able to tell one person the truth. Cassie won’t do anything with it, she knows. She’s not sure why the other girl has decided to align herself so consistently with Nancy but there’s no point in not trusting her now. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

Cassie snorts, giving her an incredulous look. “I know. Obviously, you didn’t.”

She can’t help the way that she slumps a little, turning so that she’s staring Cassie in the face instead of watching her through the mirror.

“You know?”

The other girl hums in confirmation, unperturbed by Nancy’s confusion. “You might know more curses than most seventh years, but you’re no murderer, Wheeler. Besides, anyone who knows you could say that you wouldn’t hurt a hair on Barb’s head.”

Nancy swallows, sour bile stinging on the way down. Cassie doesn’t apologise for her loss or anything similarly useless, just giving her an even look as she lets the facts of the situation speak for them both. Cassie is the only person not to think that she would want to murder her best friend.

“Thanks, Cass,” she gets out, the other girl raising a disdainful eyebrow at the nickname but not protesting. That’s almost as good as approval from her.

“It’s just the truth,” she says, finally and firmly, as though there’s nothing else. The truth doesn’t matter, though, not really, Nancy knows, when people will blame her anyway. They’ll never prove it, at least. How can they when she’s objectively innocent?

She sighs, dragging herself out of the bathroom, Cassie’s knowing stare heavy on her the whole way. “So, now what?” The other girl asks, amusement somehow creeping into her voice as she watches Nancy collapse onto her bed. Cassie follows, curling at the foot like a particularly snobbish cat.

“Nothing, I guess. No more murders so it’ll die down.”

Cassie wrinkles her nose. “You know this for sure?”

She nods, exhaustion suddenly settling in as she settles back against her pillow. She does know it for sure, even if she’s still not entirely sure what happened down in that Chamber. Cassie hums in consideration, watching Nancy carefully for a moment before she is apparently satisfied. “Well, okay then,” she drawls, having seemingly reached her conclusion. She rises, giving Nancy one last long look that she finds surprisingly comforting. At least this hasn’t changed. “Get some sleep, Wheeler, you look like shit.”

Cassie’s sharp laugh is audible even as Nancy pulls her curtains closed, cursing to herself. She has a point though, and Nancy knows she should shower and get a handle of herself, but she’s slipping into unconsciousness before she can rise again, and she’s asleep before she knows it.

————

Nancy knows it’s probably a bad idea. Even though she had refused Brenner’s extra help for some of second year, this is so much worse than the broom closet incident. She almost can’t believe that it had only taken being locked in a room for her to decide that she needed a better way to protect herself. This is so much worse. This isn’t something that she can just throw an Expelliarmus at or try and defeat in a duel with rules and traditions.

Vecna had a hold on Will. He almost killed him. It had taken El’s strange magic to save the both of them. For all that Nancy thinks of herself as capable of defending herself, there had been nothing that she could really do when Vecna had flooded her head with images of Barb’s body, snapped and broken and discarded like nothing.

Brenner accepts her request for a recommendation on Occlumency books with a raised eyebrow. “Any particular reason that you’re interested in this avenue of magic, Miss Wheeler?” He presses, but Nancy remembers the gleam of cruel curiosity in his eyes after the first death and holds firm.

“Just interested in the theory, sir. I know I wouldn’t be able to get the practice down without anyone else to help me.”

Brenner tilts his head. “Occlumency isn’t the only type of magic based on protecting one’s mind, but it is a good place to start. I can provide you with a list of introductory texts for you to read over the summer.”

Nancy ducks her head. It’s not quite enough, not when she can’t practise the skill on her own, but it’s a place to start. “Thank you, sir.”

“Occlumency is a rare and difficult skill to master. I must caution you that it will be very unlikely for you to have much success, especially so young, but reading the theory will help for now,” Brenner warns, and Nancy nods, thanking him again. He hands over a scribbled list of books as well as permission slip for her to check books out of the library over the summer, but he grabs her wrist when she tries to take it, holding her in place and staring at her intently. “What happened, Nancy?” He asks, feigning curiosity, but she can see the desperation in his eyes.

She bristles, the use of her first name sending her walls flying up. It’s a slip, one that he hasn’t realised he’s made as she tries to meet his gaze. She thinks of the images of Barb, the scraping and rasping voice insisting that it was all her fault. “Sorry, sir, but I don’t know what you mean.”

He hums impatiently, nostrils flaring as he stares her down. “Is that right?”

Nancy does her best not to shrink as she nods, keeping her expression even and mild. “Yes, sir.”

They are frozen, Brenner’s hand tight on her wrist and Nancy’s heart pounding in her chest. He lets go eventually, his iron grip there one second and gone the next, making himself the picture of casualness as he adjusts the sleeves of his robes. Nancy could almost convince herself that the incident never happened.

“Very well, Miss Wheeler,” he dismisses with a flick of his chin. “See you next year.” Nancy nods, just about to turn away when he leans in with a cold look on his face, a growing smile, dead and slimy. “And enjoy the books.”

She tightens her jaw, nodding as she strides out of the room, list of books folded tight in her hand. Pince gives her a suspicious look when she hands it over to her along with the permission slip from Brenner but the scrawled signature is enough for her to acquiesce all the same. She stares at the stack of books for what feels like an eternity before she manages to pack them away in her trunk. She’s not going to let anyone hurt her or her brother like this again. Nancy vows that, at the very least. She might not be a good friend or a good sister, but she’ll protect him.

When they get home, though, she still has to face the firing squad of their parents.

“What happened, Nancy? You were supposed to protect him!” Her father’s eyes spark with familiar anger, the same that burns in her, the same that burns in Mike as he steps forward.

“I don’t need protecting!”

“Mike,” Nancy bites out, wheeling on him with fire burning in her chest. He flinches and she goes cold all too fast. It almost sends her reeling. “I’ve got this, okay? Don’t worry.”

She doesn’t turn back to face her parents until he nods, stepping back a little and listening to her for once. The two of them haven’t fixed whatever is going on with them, Nancy too scared to find out why her brother hates her, but this year has solidified the fact that they need to stick together at the very least. She’s relieved to see that fact doesn’t change once they’ve left the castle’s halls. When she turns around, her father is wearing his exasperation plain on his face, and her mother looks heartbroken for a reason she can’t quite understand. All of a sudden, Nancy feels that thirteen is a lot smaller than it was a few days ago, when she was standing, taller and older and more powerful than anyone else in that Chamber except for El. It had been her job to stand between them and whatever it was that was possessing Will. Now, she stands between her parents and her brother and feels much the same, only more powerless and more small and more defenceless. She tries not to draw too many more parallels.

“What happened?” Her mum repeats. Nancy swallows, her mouth dry.

“It’s hard to explain,” she tries to get out, but her father is already shaking his head, frustration and worry turning into anger and fury.

“That’s not good enough, Nancy!”

She ducks her head, ice around her heart. Mike makes a small noise of disbelief behind her, but she doesn’t have the strength to turn to look at him. “I’m sorry, Father,” she mumbles instead, his disappointment a weight on her shoulders. Nancy looks up at him through her eyelashes, and her view might be obscured by the angle of her head, but his weariness and anger is plain to see either way. She’s not sure she can blame him anyway. Both of his kids come back from school with stories of possession and deaths? What was he supposed to think? Nancy had failed them, plain and simple. She hadn’t been strong enough to keep her brother safe. “I’ll do better.”

He makes a noise, of dissatisfaction or disbelief, Nancy can’t tell, but he strides away without another word. Her mum lingers, staring at her mournfully. Nancy isn’t sure how to tell her that she’s still flesh and beating blood. She doesn’t feel like it when she looks at her like that.

“You know why your father is disappointed,” she tries to say, her own voice laced with tiredness. Nancy tenses. “He’s just frustrated and was worried about you. We are glad you’re safe.”

She keeps her eyes fixed on her feet, ignoring the weight of her mother’s stare and the sound of Mike’s disbelief. “I know,” she bites out, the words more bitter than they should be. Her mum just sighs again, pausing in the moment for a beat too long before she turns away as well, following after her husband, her walk clipped and hurried.

“Nancy,” Mike starts, disbelief and anger and frustration in his voice. All the things that Nancy feels too but can’t let herself show. Control, she reminds herself as she wheels around, fixing him with a meaningful look.

“Leave it, Mike. It isn’t worth it with them, we both know that.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It’s the kindest thing he’s said to her in years, and that makes its inaccuracy burn even more. “Yes, I did.”

She walks away before his protests can land, crystallising the ache of inadequacy in her chest so that she remembers it next time. She won’t make the same mistakes. She won’t be so weak again, Nancy promises herself, remembering the stack of Occlumency books stashed in her trunk.

Over the summer, her family has Barb’s parents over several times, her mother doing the best she can to reassure them that Barb will show up eventually. That their child is still alive. Every time that she sees them, familiar eyes set into a different face, something in Nancy goes dead cold, a shiver going down her spine. Every time, Mike sends her a warning look, guilt pooling in his eyes but not enough to say anything. Every time, Nancy sits with them, giving them shallow nods and agreeing that she misses Barb and doesn’t know where she could be, emptying her stomach of thin bitter bile the second that she can duck away to a toilet.

She never tells them anything honest, the lies falling easier and easier the more she practises.

Nancy can almost tell herself they’re the truth, if she can just make herself believe hard enough, but the memory of Vecna’s voice, hard and sharp and haunting, echoes in her head all the same.

Chapter Text

The summer between her third and fourth year is her strangest yet. Nancy has long since understood that she will end up short and delicate, always cutting a slight figure rather than anything sizeable or strong. Still, now that she’s older, she finds herself outgrowing her robes and her features go from narrow to sharp all at once. Nevertheless, it’s Mike that makes the summer strange. Despite his intimate knowledge of the fact that Nancy had hurt no-one and instead had been cannon fodder herself, almost taken by whatever remnant of Vecna that had haunted Will Byers, Mike doesn’t let up. His whole face seems cast in shadow by the force of his frown, his brown drawn together into one harsh ridge, his mouth a sharp and harshly disapproving line. It’s a strange thing to face from someone still sporting the round shape of youth and inexperience. Nancy isn’t sure why it makes her feel so uncomfortable, but, either way, she finds it borderline intolerable.

Her mother observes this new dynamic with the detached hopelessness of someone who forgot how to intervene years ago, and Nancy knows better than to wish for any kindness from her father anymore. She might still cut the shape of an ideal heir for many pureblood families — magically competent, hardworking and capable of understanding the intricacies of the social scene from her experience in Slytherin — but she has long since understood that her father’s silence means his disapproval.

She’s not sure if it might hurt all the more for its unspoken nature. Maybe some harsh explicative would make her indignence feel better rather than simply bitter and empty.

Worst of all is the dreams. She hates that she had been right about the way that the memory of what happened might haunt her, lining her dreams and her mind and her insides like some leaden weight, a constant pressure in the middle of her spine that makes her feel like she’s caving in on herself from the inside out. Guilt eats at her, voracious and gleeful, but she can’t deny how useful Brenner’s books are. She thinks that Barb would forgive her, given that she’s trying to protect herself from the very thing that murdered her. She’s not sure if it’s the lingering remorse, the shame that has hardened into something cold and weighty just between her chest and her stomach, but the Occlumency proves harder to grasp than she had predicted. Brenner’s warning rings in her head, sounding more and more smug the longer it takes her to understand the simplest of concepts, but she refuses to be defeated here, to fall at the most important of hurdles. Protecting herself from hallway bullies feels ridiculous, almost childlike and immature, now that she knows what’s out there. There are things much more worthy of fear than Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins.

By the end of August, she’s got pages and pages of notes on the subject, ink scratched into rough parchment, a persistent stain on the side of the heel of her palm from where she regularly smudges the ink in her weariness. Still, it’s paid off in the sense that she understands the theory and can execute it in some regard, can imagine pressing down on all her thoughts and feelings and emotions until her mind is nothing but a blank slate. Really, she is untested, but that part almost comes easy — Nancy supposes she has practice enough with repressing her feelings. It’s not enough, though, and she knows it. Brenner will know it too, the second he sees her. Now that she is more knowledgeable about the subject, she wouldn’t be surprised if the professor was a Legilimens.

The only solace is Robin’s letters: even though she’d only sent the one last year, the package with the Walkman, they come in a steadier stream this summer. Nancy quickly finds that the tapes she sends become her most treasured possessions. She listens to them until they wear thin, even though she has to do her best to keep the Muggle technology out of sight of her family. Cassie sends letters too, laced with all of her concern buried under sarcasm and snark. They make Nancy smile almost as much.

When the school year rolls around, Nancy boards the train with Mike at her heels, barely having time to send him off with a nod before he’s darting down the train corridor, his trunk bumping along behind him, almost the same size as him. She watches him go with a strange sharp pang, one that she pushes away almost instantaneously, turning herself to find a compartment. She realises about halfway through that she’s searching for the pitch-dark shine of Cassie’s hair rather than the strawberry blonde of Barb and she has to lean against the wall for a second, catching her breath as it is punched out of her all-in-one go. Nancy feels something in her chest wind tight at the thought and she cinches all of her parts together all the more harshly, the corners of her mouth a tight knot when she finally finds Cassie, lounging carelessly in an otherwise empty compartment. Nancy has never been more glad for the way that people avoid her.

“Wheeler,” Cassie greets mildly, a spark of something unreadable in her features as she straightens, swinging her feet down from where they were propped up on the opposite bench. Nancy gives her a glare, more performative than anything else, as she dusts the seat off once she’s thrown her trunk onto the luggage rack above.

“Chan,” she retorts, a strange swooping in her chest like someone has snagged a hook into her insides and is yanking her upwards by her ribs. Cassie gives her a slight nod, watching curiously as Nancy settles into her seat. “Good summer?”

It’s a stupid question: she knows exactly how Cassie’s summer went, and they both know it because they share crumpled letters stuffed into desk drawers. Cassie gifts her with a rare smile, the corners of her almond brown eyes crinkling slightly as she looks at Nancy, a single shoulder rising in the performance of a shrug. She doesn’t do either of them the indignity of entertaining the question, leaning forward instead to launch into an entirely separate matter.

“I assume that you have heard?” Cassie waits, eyebrows climbing in surprise when Nancy only tips her head in curiosity, waiting for the other girl to elaborate. “Shit, Wheeler. Murray Bauman escaped.”

Nancy blanches. Bauman’s crimes are almost legendary at this point: he’s the monster under every wizarding kid’s bed. So, ‘shit, Wheeler’, indeed. She has no idea how she missed this, especially considering her father’s borderline obsessive reading of the Daily Prophet. Sure, she’s had a lot on her mind this summer, but that’s no excuse. After everything that happened last year, a pit opens up once more in her gut. She has a bad feeling about this. “Merlin,” she breathes out, collapsing back in her seat. Cassie nods, entirely understanding the reaction. “No one is supposed to be able to escape from Azkaban.” It’s pointing out the obvious, but Cassie raises her eyebrows in agreement anyway.

“They’re saying that the Dementors couldn’t take anything from him. That he had no soul left, that he can’t be killed.”

Nancy snorts at that. She knows fear mongering when she hears it. “Not a chance. Murray Bauman may be a deranged killer and a Death Eater, but he isn’t that powerful. Even Vecna probably isn’t that powerful.”

Cassie raises an eyebrow, a delicate never-ending arch that seems to mock and challenge Nancy in equal measure. “I forgot you know everything, Wheeler,” she says, the words delivered in the perfectly mild tone that would mean nothing to most people but is pointed enough to Nancy to make her ears burn with embarrassment.

“Sorry, sorry, but you know what I mean.”

Cassie hums doubtfully, though she concedes something in the matter through the tilt of her head. After four years, Nancy can read her well enough to know that. “I suppose I see what you’re saying. Though I think you’re underestimating one of the most infamous mass killers of our time.”

“What a lovely way to put it,” Nancy half-smiles, as the girl opposite frowns at her.

“Also, you’re an ass and I despise the fact that we have been forced to live together,” Cassie fires back without missing a beat, though the corners of her mouth tick upwards into some semblance of a smile when Nancy lets out a surprised laugh. “Articulate enough for you?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

Cassie settles back into her seat, giving Nancy a careful once-over. “So.”

Nancy squirms when the girl doesn’t continue. “What?”

“Well, I guess I’m just wondering how you spun everything last year to your parents. You never really told me.”

She sucks in a rough breath, feeling her chest knot tight for a second before she forces herself to relax, painting on a careless smile. “No one had anything concrete or accused me of something officially, so they didn’t hear about that. Just what happened that last night.”

Even though Nancy had never told Cassie what had explicitly happened, the Hogwarts rumour mill was powerful enough that most people know something happened that night, especially with the message she had placed by Patrick’s body. Cassie doesn’t press, accepting the non-answer with a tightening of her lips but a nod nonetheless. Nancy feels a weird stab of guilt. They’re at the point where she can concretely say that Cassie is a friend, in whatever fucked up framework the two of them seem to have for friendship, and it feels wrong to not read her in on the whole situation. Then again, though, everyone else she talks to is so embroiled in everything that it’s almost a relief to have something private. Something just for her, even if Cassie would wrinkle her nose in disgust at the phrasing.

Unbidden and without permission, Nancy’s mind drifts to think about the letters from Robin, safely tied together and bundled amongst her things, hidden from prying eyes. She’s not sure why she felt so compelled to bring them, but there’s a strange warmth in her chest just at the image of Robin’s scrawling writing in her head. She wishes she could have brought the Walkman and tapes as well, but she didn’t want to chance the magic of Hogwarts damaging them beyond repair.

As if she had summoned her, there’s a hesitant knock at the door as Robin pokes her head into the compartment. The sight of her shaggy hair, freckles peeking through on her cheeks and nose from the summer sun, makes Nancy smile without realising it. “Mind if I join?” Robin’s crooked smile sends a strange flickering of warmth through Nancy’s chest, and she can’t help but give her a matching grin, uncharacteristically genuine, as she nods.

“Sure.”

Cassie flashes her a knowing look but doesn’t protest as Robin smiles and makes her way into the compartment. Robin huffs heavily as she tries to lift her trunk up to the rack, grinning when Nancy wordlessly levitates it up there instead. “Thanks, Nance.”

She tells herself that she doesn’t blush but the heat in her cheeks is telling enough. Opposite her, Cassie mouths ‘Nance’ with a smug smile, which only widens when Nancy scowls at her. “Where’s your shadow?” Cassie asks instead of ribbing her further, though there’s still a self-satisfied gleam to her eyes.

Robin’s mouth crumples into a smile, bashful but shameless as well. “Steve’s his own person. We can exist apart from each other.” Whilst Nancy knows that the other girl is apart, she also knows how close that the two of them are. It’s something she’s still trying to sort through, untangling the threads of guilt and bitterness and confusion. Still, at Cassie’s dubious look, Robin shrugs shamelessly and says mildly, “okay, fine. I’m meeting him later. Fuck off.”

Even with the burden on her chest, the weight of the guilt that she’s not sure why she feels, Nancy manages a laugh and Cassie snorts loudly, the two of them ignoring Robin’s playful frown.

“So,” the other girl interrupts, rolling her eyes. “What’s new?”

The conspiratorial glint returns to Cassie’s eyes as she leans forward. “Well, Murray Bauman’s escaped.”

“Who’s that?” Robin asks innocently, blinking at the two of them. Cassie’s lips curl into a disbelieving smile before she huffs a sigh through her nose, so comically exasperated than Nancy can’t help but smile.

“Merlin, why do we associate with muggleborns?” Cassie directs to Nancy as she deflates and falls back into her seat, though it’s missing all of the bite that another Slytherin might have used. It’s practically tame from the other girl, though Nancy gives her a perfunctory glare just in case. Robin rolls her eyes sarcastically at the phrase, but Cassie cuts off any complaint as she elaborates. “He’s the most infamous wizard criminal of all time. Story goes that he betrayed the light side, joined up with Vecna and went insane from dark magic. Tried to kill the Ives before Vecna ever did. Ended up blowing up a Muggle square, almost along with himself.”

Robin grimaces, a downward turn to her mouth at the mention of Muggles. “Fuck. And he’s escaped from prison?”

“Yep,” Cassie confirms, popping the ‘p’ in a particularly blasé manner, though Nancy can see through the bravado to the unsettled truth beneath.

“The question is what he does next.”

Both of the other girls snap to look at Nancy at the statement. She would colour if it was anyone else, though she does straighten in her seat

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Well, imagine you’ve been locked up for over a decade and everything you believed in has been torn down. No Dark Lord, no new regime, no life except hiding forever. What would you do?”

Silence hangs, tense and pregnant, for a long moment. “Revenge,” Robin eventually breaks, smiling grimly. Nancy nods in her direction.

“It’s just about how he does it. Another public thing or attacking the Ministry, maybe.”

None of them mention perhaps the most obvious option of them all: Murray hunting El down again. Nancy doesn’t even want to give voice to the possibility, but that doesn’t stop cold and creeping tendrils of fear from working their way up her spine, a seam of dread running through her chest. The three of them stare round at each other, dour expressions firmly in place until Cassie cracks. “Has anyone ever told you what a joy you are to be around, Wheeler?”

Nancy snorts, surprising herself with the force of it. She blushes under Robin’s amused glance, feeling her cheeks colour with embarrassment, and the way she raises her chin is reflexive, even if the cold superiority she paints across her features is blatantly fake for once. “If you’re complaining, Chan, you could always make new friends.”

“No, it’s fine. Besides, your constant angst and wallowing is honestly rather entertaining after a while.”

Nancy huffs, only half put out. “Glad I’m such a joke to you.”

“You really, really are,” Cassie drawls, though her eyes twinkle with amusement despite how genuine her droll tone is.

Robin snorts. “You two are like a tennis match sometimes.”

“What’s tennis?” They ask in synchronised curiosity, and Robin scowls to herself.

“I fucking hate wizards. You guys know Quidditch and not fucking tennis?”

Cassie smirks. “Don’t go insulting Quidditch, now. You don’t want to put Nancy in a mood.”

Nancy harrumphs defensively, crossing her arms without realising it. “I don’t go into a mood.”

“Nancy Wheeler, you are the most competitive person I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t stand someone slating a sport you are objectively good at.” Cassie’s eyes flash with a challenge as she leans forward.

“You’re the one who insists on playing chess all the time because it’s the only thing I lose to you at.”

Cassie laughs. “And you’re the one who accepts because you want to beat me so badly.”

Nancy scowls, but there’s a childish feel to it that makes her painfully aware that she’s lost this round.

“This is what I mean about tennis,” Robin repeats, clearing her throat, but both Cassie and Nancy fix her with such blank looks that the other girl gives up even as her lips curl with amusement. “Cassie kind of has a point, though.”

Nancy scowls, pinning Robin with such an affronted look that she spots her genuinely gulping. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been the best dueller and top of the class for the past three years. I’m sure you won’t stop until you’re Head Girl, Quidditch Captain and maybe elected Headmaster as some sort of miracle alongside everything else.”

She gapes at her, something boiling hot and humiliating curling in her chest at just how accurately Robin has summarised her entire coping mechanism to become untouchable, but there’s an odd pull at her heart as well, especially with the warm affection burning in Robin’s eyes. She doesn’t mean it maliciously, she doesn’t want to tear Nancy down, she doesn’t think Nancy is wrong for being ambitious or competitive. She says it like it’s blatant and accepted fact and something that no one could take issue with. Robin puts positive words to all the things that Nancy has armoured herself with and does it so easily that it steals her breath away.

Nancy has to consciously make herself close her mouth as she stares at Robin, jerking her head away suddenly to stare at her feet, her ears burning as they flame red. Cassie snickers under her breath. She’s saved from further humiliation, though, when the train rocks. There is a great shuddering groan and a horrible screeching of metal on metal that makes a chill race down Nancy’s spine.

“What the fuck was that?”

Nancy is out of her seat in a second, wand in her hand. “I have no idea, but we are going to find out.”

Robin is right next to her, determination ingrained into her expression. “I have to find Steve.” Her voice is steady and strong but there’s a thrum of panic beneath it, a thread of something unsettled and anxious.

“Fine,” she concedes, knowing it would be selfish to argue, “but we aren’t splitting up.”

The train shudders again, an ear-splitting sound of metal and tracks and sparks, and the three of them are out of the compartment before they can say anything else. Nancy’s heart pounds in her ears, the sound of rushing blood all that she can hear. Suddenly, she feels like she’s back in that dank damp tunnel under the school, hopelessness and dread weighing her down until it feels so easy to give up. Genuine and total despondency takes over Nancy, making all of her limbs feel leaden and striking her so firmly in the stomach that she has to take a step back.

The gasp she lets out is only half-swallowed, escaping before she can suppress it the way that she would like to. Merlin, she’s so disorientated, so taken aback by this sudden solid wall of sadness and hopelessness that she probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it either way.

It’s only as the wave breaks, as it crashes over her head, leaving her spluttering and sodden in its wake, that she realises what’s wrong with it. “This isn’t real,” she mutters to herself, forcing sweet and crisp air into her tight lungs. It still feels like someone has her chest in a vice grip, even as understanding sparks through her. “Cass, Robin. This isn’t real.”

Because they feel it too, Nancy knows. The very same feelings that usually isolate her are exactly what are washing over her friends right now, and maybe most of the train. Ice creeps along the windows as the sky outside seems to darken, spiralling cracks of frozen cold tracing across the glass. They’re crowded in the narrow hallway, stuffed shoulder to shoulder, but she can still see the blank glaze to Robin’s eyes. They’re absent of her usual spark of mischief and Nancy feels its loss like a kick to the stomach. Cassie takes a shuddering breath on the other side of her, and Nancy suddenly becomes distantly aware of the fact that she is shivering. The train comes to a stop with an abrupt jolt, and the distant thuds and bangs tells Nancy that luggage has fallen out of the racks, but she can’t bring herself to care as she feels the creeping sense of something looming behind her. Then, without warning, all the lamps go out and they are plunged into pitch darkness, so complete that Nancy can’t even see her wand outstretched in front of her.

“Cassie,” she hisses. “Robin. Snap out of it. It’s dementors.”

She’s only read about them, of course. No one except the Ministry and prisoners of Azkaban should ever really be near them. There must be something incredibly wrong for them to be here, but the choking and strangling fear is unmistakable. She knows how she feels in honestly terrifying situations.

Nancy has resolved to die before.

This was different.

“What’s happening?” Cassie asks, her voice urgent, and Nancy wishes she could see her expression. She mutters a quick Lumos spell under her breath, relief washing over her when she sees Robin and Cassie both looking at her, their faces painted with acute fear and worry but not the soul shattering sadness that had gripped them all a moment beforehand.

“Dementors,” she manages to grind out, before fear, real and complete, grasps her once more. “We have to find the others.”

“I have to find Steve,” Robin says again, pleading and begging, and there’s nothing Nancy could ever say to change her mind. She doesn’t want to. Steve and her may be in an awkward situation but she doesn’t want the boy dead.

“We aren’t splitting up,” Nancy vows once more. “Do you know where Steve is?”

It kills her not to rush right to Mike’s side, but Robin nods and all she can do is follow as the girl peels off down the hall. Cassie, for once, doesn’t have a smart comment to offer as she keeps her wand in front of her, head swivelling around. The sound of others panicking in their compartments is clear, but Nancy doesn’t have time to help everyone. Doesn’t have the capacity to think of anything but the corridor before her, her friends and her little brother.

Steve meets them in the corridor, the fear on his face illuminated by the light coming from the tip of his wand. “Robin!” He cries out, the noise strangled and strained. He moves quicker than lightning, gathering Robin up in the tightest hug that Nancy has ever seen. She feels borderline uncomfortable watching the interaction, seeing the way that Robin’s eyes screw closed and the line of Steve’s shoulder eases just at seeing her.

Nancy bites her tongue hard enough for the metallic tang of blood to fill her mouth. Cassie sends her an undecipherable look, the line of her jaw hard and unforgiving.

“Are you guys alright?” Steve presses, eyebrows drawn tight together. It makes him look like a particularly concerned father when paired with the downward tick of his mouth and disapproving stare. Nancy tries not to snort at the idea, drawing herself up straighter instead.

“We’re fine, Steve.” She’s not a shrinking flower that he has to take care of and look after. She’s perfectly fucking capable of defending herself. He nods at her, looking slightly embarrassed, but Nancy doesn’t have time to dwell, to think. “We have to go find the kids. Find Mike.”

She leads them in the direction that she thinks she saw Mike go when they boarded the train, but her heart is pounding so hard and fast in her ears that it is all that she can focus on. It feels like they try a hundred compartments before they find the one with the kids in it, Mike clutching the hand of a pale and shaking Will, and Max with her arm wrapped around El’s shoulders. Her heart tightens oddly at the sight of them. They might not have wanted her help last year, but she’s relieved at the light in Will’s eyes where there had been cruel darkness down in the Chamber of Secrets. It’s a reminder to take in another breath, to keep going.

“Nancy!” Dustin is the first to notice their arrival, expression brightening and relief flooding through him as he does so.

“Are you all okay?”

Mike scoffs. “We’re fine. It’s just a breakdown, right?”

His words fall weaker than he might have wanted, undermined by the drawn expression on Will’s face and the way that his hands are shaking. Still, he stares back at Nancy, uncompromising.

“Right,” she drawls, frustration blooming in her chest. “Well, we aren’t going anywhere until the train starts again. This isn’t just a breakdown, Mike.”

“What are you talking about?” he demands, but Nancy isn't going to scare the kids based on something she hasn’t confirmed yet with her own eyes. She might be sure about the presence of the dementors, but a feeling isn’t enough. He sighs in annoyance as she shakes her head but doesn’t say anything more as he turns back to Will.

Nancy can read the worried expression on Steve’s face the second that she looks at him. “What do you mean?” He asks, voice pitched low, but the compartment’s small enough that a whisper still won’t keep this private. Nancy nods towards the door, with Robin and Cassie following the two of them. She sets up privacy wards with a flick of her wand, making sure that, even if the kids did know any spells that would help them listen, there’s nothing they could do to get past her Silencing Spells.

“I think there are dementors here,” she says, brusque and matter of fact. Steve flinches.

“You’re serious?”

“No, Steve, she’s joking for the fucking fun of it.” Robin’s sarcastic drawl catches Nancy by surprise, but she can read the nervousness on her face in the twitch of her mouth and the furrow of her eyebrows, so she lets it slide. Steve huffs a put-upon sigh but doesn’t seem that bothered by Robin’s snark.

He turns back to Nancy instead. “So, what do we do?”

She can’t help the way that she draws back, put quickly on the defensive. “What? Why do I have to come up with a plan?”

“You’re Nancy,” Robin says, like it should be obvious. “You always have a plan.”

She casts a dark look in Cassie’s direction, hoping to find some support, but only finds a cool expression and an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Oh, fuck off,” Nancy fires at the other Slytherin before the other girl can even open her mouth, though she doesn’t look particularly wounded by her barbed words.

“Come on then, Wheeler,” Cassie challenges. “Give us our marching orders, o fearless leader.”

“The plan is for you to take a running leap of the Astronomy Tower,” Nancy mutters under her breath, colouring with embarrassment when Robin snorts with laughter. This wasn’t the way that this was supposed to go. She has to focus. Nancy pinches at the bridge of her nose with a sigh — the adrenaline is still making her brain feel like it’s caked in mud, but there must be something that she can come up with.

Unfortunately, the best she can come up with is corralling everyone into one compartment and standing guard. She can see the dementors outside the train, wisps of impossible blackness standing out even against the evening dusk. They don’t seem to be streaming for them, though, instead just darting past the windows, too quick for Nancy to properly catch hold of their form.

She shakes her head. “I mean, what can we do? Nothing, really. Just stay here with the kids till whatever is going on is over.”

Steve frowns. “Can’t we find a professor or something?”

“I think most of them are probably at the castle already, dingus,” Robin fires back.

“What do you even do against dementors?”

Nancy grimaces. “The only spell I’ve read about is a Patronus spell, but I’ve never cast one.”

She keeps to herself that she doesn’t think she’d ever be able to, based on what she knows. It isn’t that she doesn’t have a happy life — she’s well aware of her privilege and luck, but Nancy is pretty sure that she simply doesn’t have the wealth of happiness and satisfaction in her person that something like a Patronus needs.

“Right, well, none of us are going to come up with something better than Wheeler can, so let’s just do that.” Cassie jerks her head back towards the kids’ compartment, sending Steve a hard glare that Nancy doesn’t really understand.

Robin shoves him in the back as they file through the door, Steve whipping round to glare at her as he stumbles, glaring when she snickers. The kids all snap to look at them when they enter, and Nancy can’t help but wince at the weight of their gaze on her.

“What’s going on, Nancy?” Mike presses again, eyes flashing.

She shakes her head. “Nothing you guys need to worry about, okay?”

Mike opens his mouth to protest once more, but, to Nancy’s surprise, Steve holds up a hand. “Come on, kid, just sit down and let us see what happens, yeah? We don’t know if it will end up being more than a breakdown so just focus on making sure Will’s alright.”

If it had been her telling him that, Nancy is sure that Mike wouldn’t have hesitated to keep pushing for more information, but for some reason he nods and shrinks back, apparently chastised enough as he lets Will fall back into his side, the smaller boy burying his face in Mike’s shoulder.

Nancy turns to Cassie, their eyes meeting as they wear mutual expressions of shock and wariness. “Why can’t you tame your brother like that?” Cassie mumbles to Nancy, smirking to herself when she receives a shove in response. With everything going on, Nancy can’t help the nervous tic as she runs a hand along her jaw and smooths down the front of her shirt and robes, the school uniform newly and neatly pressed.

It feels like hours pass with the lot of them crowded into the single compartment, the kids quickly growing restless. Robin is the worst for it though, so keyed up that her leg doesn’t stop jogging up and down the entire time. Nancy is tempted to send her a harsh glare, but it’s Nancy who’s dragged everyone into this confined space, so she figures she can’t complain too much the situation.

The only light in the compartment is the soft Lumos at the end of a couple of the kids wands, with Cassie, Robin, Steve and Nancy all electing to instead have their wands at the ready in case they need to fend anything of. The longer that nothing happens, though, the more that Nancy starts to doubt herself. She had been so sure of the fact that there were dementors near, so sure that it was a manufactured sense of dread that had been pooling at the bottom of her spine, but now they are simply sat in darkness with fear and apprehension lacing through them, all with nothing to show for it.

“How long are we staying like this?” Steve attempts to whisper to Robin, though it comes out far too loudly. Nancy casts a half-hearted glare in his direction, some of the venom undermined by the fact that she kind of thinks he might have a point.

“Till the train is fixed, idiot,” Robin hisses back, shoving him and sending a guilty look in Nancy’s direction. It’s clear that she agrees with him, but Nancy can’t find it within herself to be irritated with her. She’s felt tense and on alert for Merlin knows how long, and she’s too stressed and tired to be annoyed.

“I don’t like this anymore than you guys do,” Nancy mutters out, not able to stop herself from being slightly embittered at the way that everyone seems to heap responsibility for the situation onto her. It’s not Nancy’s fault that she can’t take down a fucking Dementor.

Just when she thinks that this strange limbo is going to last forever, the lights in the hallway start to flicker, sputtering and spitting as they turn back on. The new light dispels some of the haunting shadows that clung to their faces, and Nancy suddenly feels very foolish, gathering everyone into one compartment and being so sure that something awful was going to happen when all they had done was sat in the dark for a while.

Mike scoffs. “So, that was fun.”

Almost as if to punctuate his words and Nancy’s humiliation, the train shudders back into moving as well, the familiar chugging motion starting up once more. Mike gives her a sharp look, eyebrow raised, but Nancy meets it flat and impassively. She’s not going to apologise for trying to protect him.

Steve gives her an awkward smile as he rises, ruffling Dustin’s hair with a grin before jerking his head towards the door. “I’m gonna head. Robin?”

Robin shoots her a guilty look. “Hey, I’ll see you later, right?”

Nancy tries not to look too upset when she nods. She’s not even sure why her chest surges with bitterness and cool anger. It doesn’t make sense. She understands where Robin’s coming from. She would choose Steve over herself in Robin’s position as well. Swallowing her hurt feels like fire in her throat but she sends the other girl a tight smile and watches her walk away even as her and Cassie duck out of the kids compartment as well. She can’t help but feel like a fool, stood alone in the hallway drowning in her own head.

“Wheeler.”

Cassie looks at her, unreadable and steady. Nancy hates the fact that someone else is such a consistent witness to her embarrassment, but Cassie has never used it against her before, so it’s easier just to nod and follow the other girl back to their compartment. The tiny room seems much bigger now, without Robin. Colder, too. Nancy can’t help but scoff internally at just how pathetic she is.

“If you start making me into a bloody hero, I'll be very angry, Wheeler,” Cassie quips as they settle back into their seats, but it isn’t as sharp as usual.

Nancy scoffs humourlessly, slumping into her bench. Hero is an interesting word to use, especially when there’s so much blood staining Nancy’s hands. Barb’s, Patrick’s, Fred’s. A familiar pit of dread opens up in her stomach and she has to force herself to take a breath. “I’m not a damn Gryffindor,” she shoots back, lips twitching into a weak smirk.

Neither of them really says anything after that, the train ride long and silent, both of them lost in thought over something else. With how unnerved she already is, the sight of dark skeletal horses hitched to the carriages that ferry them to castle takes her aback quite heavily. Nancy stalls, her heart pounding in her chest, before her brain catches up with her. She knows what thestrals are supposed to look like, though its shocking to be able to see them now. They’re only supposed to appear to those who have seen death, and Nancy tries not to throw up as sour nausea rises in her chest. Images of Fred, Chrissy and Patrick’s dead bodies flash through her head. She keeps her gaze low in the carriage, hoping that the queasiness would disappear as long as kept her eyes away from the thestrals themselves. Nancy finds that the picture of dark leathery wings and bones peeking through pitch black skin and soulless empty white eyes haunts her all the same. As soon as she can, she strides away from the carriage up the path to the castle proper, Cassie looking at her with quiet curiosity.

Nancy hopes the Welcome Feast settles everything, but instead it’s a tense affair, though it’s nice to see some of her Quidditch teammates. The whole Hall is abuzz with what could have happened on the train, but she doesn’t hear anyone else mentioning the idea of dementors.

“What’s wrong with you two? You’re significantly less smug than usual,” Grace presses, raising a suspicious eyebrow at Nancy and Cassie. She steps so heavily on Cassie’s foot that the other girl makes a pained kind of noise that Nancy has never heard from her.

“We’re fine,” she grinds out, grateful that Grace only narrows her eyes before dropping the matter.

Owens rises as the Sorting comes to an end, the chatter throughout the Hall petering out. “Welcome back, everyone!” He begins, his wide and broad smile as watery as ever. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to start there." Owens clears his throat, his smile faltering as he looks around at the assorted students. Nancy finds herself holding her breath, though she has a strong suspicion where this is going. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

The Hall erupts with murmurs and chatter, but it’s silenced with one harsh look from Hopper. Nancy exchanges glances with Cassie, and it doesn’t take long for Robin to catch her eye either. Looks like they weren’t the only ones who had figured that Murray would be making a beeline for Hogwarts and for El.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Owens continues, "so I want to make it clear that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises or spells. It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses." Quiet settles over the whole school as Owens looks very seriously around the hall, and nobody moves or makes a sound. The man could have a surprising amount of gravitas when the time calls for it apparently, though Nancy thinks it’s only due to the glowering from both Hopper and Brenner at his side. "On a happier note," Owens continues, voice notably brighter, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Carroll, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Transfiguration teacher.”

As Owens gestures to a fairly normal looking bald man who smiles weakly, Nancy sends Cassie a confused look, but the other girl only gives a quirk of her eyebrow. It takes Grace leaning in for them to get any clarity. “I heard Hawthorne had some kind of family emergency. Isn’t coming back for a while apparently.” She punctuates it with a shrug, opting out of any further questions. Nancy feels a curling of something in her gut, like a inherent alarm going off, but she has no idea what it could possibly be about. What is it to do with her if they have a new teacher?

She ends up tuning out the rest of the opening speech as it falls back into the familiar routine, her head stuck on the idea of the dementors sticking around this year. The deep feeling of dread that she had experienced was one of the worst feelings she had ever had. She doesn’t want to face how powerless it had made her feel, and she certainly doesn’t want a reminder and the cause of it to be lingering around the castle all year.

Later, up in their dorm, Nancy winces at every creak of the mattress as she tries to get up silently. She’s sure that she waited long enough after lights out for everyone to be asleep, but every footstep seems so loud in the night, every rustle of cloth and every hollow sound on the stone floor. Still, she jumps violently at the burst of light that suddenly illuminates the room, even if she had felt a bad feeling churning in her gut.

Cassie looks at her, face blank and unreadable, the Lumos at the end of her wand casting her features in soft shadow. “Nancy.”

“Merlin’s balls, Cassie, I almost shit myself.”

A smile cracks its way across her face. “Yeah, I noticed, Wheeler.”

“What do you want, Chan? I’m just getting some water.”

Cassie scoffs. “You really think I don’t know you well after this long? I know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?” She challenges, not wanting to back down.

“You’re going to practice the Patronus spell.”

Silence hangs for a second, before Nancy sighs, a rush of air as she drops her head in defeat. “Fuck you, how did you figure that out?”

Cassie’s snort sounds deafening in the silence. “You’re very predictable.”

“So, what, you’re going to tell me that I’m being an idiot? That I should go back to bed and just ignore the fact that I was fucking useless today?” Nancy hisses, surprised by how much her emotion bleeds though. The frustration, the self-flagellation. “I know that it seems like I was overreacting but whatever happened to us in the hallway was real, Cassie. There were dementors there. There’s something going on, and what the hell are we supposed to do next time? You can’t tell me to just sit on my ass when I know something is going on.” Nancy’s chest heaves as she cuts herself off, and Cassie gives her a level, flat look.

“Why the fuck would I say that?”

Nancy can’t hide her surprise. “What?”

Cassie shrugs. “I mean, we both were. I’m not surprised that you couldn’t cast a Patronus, but needing to and not being able to is only going to make you want to be able to more. Especially if the Dementors are going to be sticking around.”

Nancy hates how apparently readable she is, but there’s a warmth in her chest at it anyway — it’s nice to have it be someone on her side who knows her so well. “So, what?”

“Well, I’m coming with you, obviously.”

She sighs, long and drawn out. “There’s nothing that I can do to stop you, is there?”

“Nope,” Cassie pops the ‘p’, raising her eyebrow. Mirth sparkles in her eyes, and it’s about as gleeful looking as she gets.

“Merlin, you’re the worst,” she grumbles, but she’s already padding out of the room, each step as quiet as possible, Cassie following behind her. They make their way to an abandoned classroom, every creak of every door on the way seeming deafeningly loud, but no professors catch them and, though she sees Filch in every shadow, no caretakers loom over them either. They end up spending hours there, until the pale dawn light begins to peek through the windows. She’s not able to produce anything more than wisps of silvery smoke that dissipates almost instantly.

It feels worse to know that Cassie’s witness to it all — it makes the shame sharper and heavier in her stomach, like a knife to the gut. But the other girl doesn’t say anything, alternating between poring over the textbook they had found and muttering the incantation to herself as well. Still, Nancy tries to remind herself of exactly what the other girl had said back in the dorm. Nancy isn’t the only person who puts pressure on herself to be the best. She knows that Cassie doesn’t open up much — the other girl is pretty much the epitome of the unflappable superior Slytherin — but it’s reassuring to understand that she isn’t the only one of them who comes out of the kind of situation that they were in today and has this kind of reaction. Besides, she can’t let it stop her, not if the dementors were going to become a feature in her life at Hogwarts. She vows to herself, there and then, that she is never going to feel so helpless again.

The next morning, only a few hours later and running on no sleep, the two of them meet eyes over their breakfasts. Once more, Grace Liu sends the two of them odd looks, but she doesn’t say anything. Cassie and Nancy are wearing matching bags under their eyes, but neither of them comments on the fact that they failed in what was supposed to be their aim. After a full day of classes, Nancy isn’t surprised when Cassie’s Lumos comes on exactly when Nancy swings out of bed, and the two of them make their way wordlessly down to the same classroom as before.

————

Hawthorne may have been fairly useless, but Nancy isn’t sure what to make of his replacement. Carroll seems nice enough, but almost unnerving in his nervousness. She was pretty sure that the guy had never taught before and had absolutely no idea what to do with a bunch of kids. She’s not sure that she could blame him.

Transfiguration is usually a pretty boring subject, if a little technical and complicated, but Nancy finds herself zoning out for most of Carroll’s lecture. As the lesson comes to a close, Nancy being slow to gather her things as she tries to avoid being caught up in the flow of students, she manages to catch sight of Brenner slipping in through the squat doorway at the front of the classroom, opposite to where the students are joining the main hallway. The two of them are quickly drawn into conversation, heads bowed together, but Nancy is out in the corridor before she can catch anything that they are saying. She supposes it isn’t anything that dramatic, but something in the back of her head clicks, gears ticking and clattering as they grind together.

It does remind her of something else that she needs to do, though, and she makes her way to the door of Brenner's classroom after dinner, the halls of the castle largely abandoned. Most of the students were settled into their common rooms or dorms by now, but she has a couple of minutes before curfew, and this is important.

Brenner, immaculate as ever in his neat robes, looking unbothered by the late hour, opens the door with an eyebrow already raised, not a single spark of surprise in his eyes as he takes Nancy in. Almost like he had been expecting her.

“Miss Wheeler.”

“Sir,” she greets, ducking her head slightly. Some of her bravery leaks out of her as she finds herself face to face with the man, unable to forget the way that he had looked at her at the end of last year. Even the memory sends a chill down her spine. Nancy’s not sure how she feels about seeking guidance from someone who seems to blatantly flirt the darker side of magic, but she can’t help the fact that she needs to be strong. She has to take care of everyone, and if she can get an advantage through Brenner’s strategies, then that’s the way that things have to be. Nancy rallies herself, summoning all of her steel and ignoring the icy pinpricks of dread across her spine. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

Brenner nods, waiting for her to elaborate, refusing to make this easy for her. Nancy swallows hard, feeling strangely off-kilter.

“Occlumency,” she manages, the professor nodding at her. It’s not quite what she’s trying to say, but he clearly knows what she is here for and takes some modicum of pity on her.

“Yes. How did you find the reading list?”

Nancy angles her head. “I understand the theory, sir,” she says hesitantly, “but I know that I need practical guidance.”

Brenner’s eyes glitter. “Are you asking me to go rooting around in your head, Mis Wheeler?”

She forces herself to swallow, re-thinking this plan for the millionth time. Brenner is clearly worthy of suspicion, as Barb had known, judging on the way that he had reacted last year. But Nancy doesn’t have a choice. She has to do this, to protect Mike and the kids, to keep her friends safe, to make sure that no one ends up the way that Barb did. Like Fred and Chrissy and Patrick did. The dementors aren’t going to do anything to protect them.

“If I may, sir.”

Professor Brenner’s lips curl up, his eyes staying ice cold and untouched by his empty smile. “We can meet in the evenings and practise here in my classroom. I’m sure you’ll be a quick study as always.”

Nancy will have to be if she wants to take this opportunity as well as keep Brenner unaware of everything El is trying to hide.

Sure enough, a few days later, Brenner is waiting for her, something gleaming in his eyes as she enters the classroom, the desks already cleared away in preparation for their practice session.

Nancy stands in the middle of the abandoned classroom, an island of cool, calm and pragmatism. She isn’t surprised that the rumours of her being the Heir of Slytherin have held over, but she’s grown in it to now. She’s less awkward and scrawny looking than before, having grown into herself a little more. It means that when she raises her chin, forcing an impenetrable and collected expression onto her features, she looks in control rather than desperate. It’s less an attempt to save face than it used to be. She commands respect now, or at least intimidation. Nancy’s proved herself capable on the Quidditch field, made herself into the best dueller in the year and enough people believe she’s capable of murder that they aren’t willing to mess with her. She’s not liked, not adored or fawned over or envied, but she’s respected.

Nancy has forged herself in someone with steel in their blood, with iron in their spine. She’s made herself a force of nature and she wraps herself in the isolation it brings like a security blanket. People never touch what they’re scared of.

All this is to say that, when she shucks off her robe and rolls her sleeves, carefully and deliberately, she does it exactly like she does most things, Brenner only raises an eyebrow, no longer surprised by her and her determination. “Are you sure?” He asks once more, a question that Nancy only answers by raising her wand.

He gives her one of his rare smiles, not a sign that he is impressed but something she takes as approval anyway. It’s dangerous, what they are doing. Not just magically, though Nancy knows that too. She’s figured enough out now to realise that Barb had been right about Brenner. Remorse spikes through her like it always does at the thought of the other girl, but she shoves it aside as always. She just has to keep her eyes up, be on guard around the teacher. The professor has too much to teach her for her to ignore him completely. She has to become the best she can, to protect Mike and the others from something like what happened last year. It’s worth it to be useful.

It’s worth it to be worth something to the others.

————

The term drags by, icy winter settling over the castle surprisingly quickly. The dungeons get even colder than usual, and it’s not helped by the flashes of dark robes that constantly flit around the border of the castle grounds. The dementors are a constant presence, looming and threatening. It doesn’t make for an easy-going term, but Nancy is surprised by how easily everyone seems to get used to the dementors being about. They don’t seem to be under anyone’s control or instruction, though she sometimes sees the teachers talking to Ministry officials that are perhaps supposed to be responsible for the dementors whilst they’re posted at the school.

Honestly, she thinks it’s bullshit, even without the memory of the spine-tingling fear from the train. Sure, anyone with half of a brain would assume that there’s a chance of Bauman going after El, but it’s not like there aren’t any capable wizards at the school to protect her — she’s not sure how the obvious answer to the Ministry was to line the halls with prison guards that suck people’s souls out. Shit, the Hogwarts wards are some of the tightest in magical Britain. Nancy isn't sure how the dementors were meant to actually make anything better, and she is not the only one.

There had been discussions about cancelling Hogsmeade trips considering the threat of Bauman hanging over their heads, but they eventually concede and allow them to go anyway. Hogsmeade trips are the only time that Nancy really considers herself outside of the bounds of school and all that sort of environment entails. Her and Jonathan had established a sort of standing date last year, but things have been more strained between the two of them. Truthfully, they had never really defined anything, their relationship hanging in an awkward limbo space which mainly consisted of Jonathan looking longingly towards her and Nancy trying to figure out what kind of label belongs to the odd warmth in her chest when she’s around him.

Now, though, she’s not sure what’s going on between them.

Most people are in their classes, but she decides to find him during her free period as she makes her way to the library. It’s the first Hogsmeade trip of the year and, whilst she’s sure this tension is imagined, she wants to understand the ground she’s on. This year, she’s mainly seen him hanging around with a Hufflepuff named Argyle who spends all of his time in the greenhouses, but she finds him finishing his lunch in the Great Hall.

“Jonathan!” She greets brightly, books tucked into her arms. The boy blinks, surprised when he looks up and finds Nancy standing there. The stunned look on his face fills her with a strange sense of nerves. “Do you want to go to the library together?”

He coughs, maybe more in surprise than anything else as it comes out as somewhat of a splutter. “Sorry,” he croaks out, once he’s cleared his throat. To his credit, Jonathan winces like the words and the apology are sincere. “I’m supposed to meet Argyle at the greenhouses.”

Nancy frowns, and she can practically feel her expression crumble. Her and Jonathan had been steady enough, she thought. She had been under the impression that they made sense together. That he was her best chance at something normal, at something solid. Even if she has a sneaking suspicion that label she was never sure about is just friendship. “Oh.”

“We can go to Hogsmeade at some point soon, though,” Jonathan hurries to reassure her. “If you want?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. Let me know.” Nancy tries not to sound too bitter about it as she gives him a smile and a nod, turning on her heel and starting to head back to the library. Jonathan is allowed to have his own life, of course, and she doesn’t want to feel like she’s reading into this or making a big deal out of nothing, but it adds weight to her feeling like he has been avoiding her this year. To the feeling like something has shifted in her life, even considering the way that things have always been at Hogwarts — last year changed things.

Nancy shoves the sinking feeling and churning in her gut away. She should have seen this coming. Should have known. This, like all things, has the same fleeting nature that she has been burned by before. She saw it with Steve. Her blindness this time around just stings more, Nancy tells herself as she replays Jonathan’s series of facial expressions over and over in her head.

She tries to shake the train of thought away as she slips through the library door, the musty and familiar smell of books and parchment washing over her. A little weight lifts off of her shoulders — nothing makes her feel better than the library. She's aware of how inherently Ravenclaw that sentiment is, but the thought doesn’t make the same bitterness rise in her as it might have last year. Nancy is more than conscious of her faults, but she knows that she worked hard last year to save her brother, to save Will, to try and save everyone. It was her, in all of her Slytherin glory, and maybe she’s beginning to see that.

She’s headed to her favourite study table when she spots a familiar head of golden honey hair, the girl in question face planted into her notes. Nancy might have thought she was asleep if she wasn’t groaning in frustration so loudly.

“Robin, what are you doing here?”

The girl snorts in surprise before shooting upwards, breaking into a grin when she realises that it’s Nancy. “What, do you own the library?”

Nancy can’t help but smile despite herself. “Obviously not, but I was under the impression that you didn’t spend much time in here unless it was when the whole castle was under the threat of a dark magic curse. Or when I force you at wandpoint for the benefit of your grade.”

The joke doesn’t quite cover up the reference to last year, even as light as she had tried to pitch it. It’s not accurate anyway — Robin spends an inordinate amount of time in the library for someone who claims to hate homework as much as she does. Still, think about what had happened last year makes Nancy’s mouth flood with the taste of ash and Robin’s expression sour. It clears as soon as she thinks she’s noticed it, though, the dark shadows passing quicker than Nancy’s eyes can track.

“Well, maybe I’ve been cursed to this table,” she jokes, leaning forward in challenge. Nancy laughs, raising an eyebrow in challenge and earning her reward when Robin sinks back, slumping into her chair as she lets go of her bluster. “No, actually I’m supposed to be meeting Eddie. We decided that it’s better to suffer together.”

“I think there’s a Muggle saying about the blind that might apply here.”

“You shouldn’t be allowed to know Muggle expressions,” Robin grumbles, mostly to herself. “You already have enough ammunition against me.”

“Then stop giving me more,” Nancy teases, settling neatly into the chair across from Robin. The other girl’s mouth ticks with amusement at her readiness to join them, but she doesn’t look surprised. Nancy supposes there’s reason for that: they’ve been studying together since first year. It hits her with a strange pang just how long she’s known Robin. Nancy suddenly recalls just how much shorter Robin had been back then, all scrawny and angled, sharp elbows and knobbled knees. With her shaggy honeyed hair and twinkling mischievous eyes, she still looks the same, but a new and acute appreciation of her willowy frame hits Nancy like a kick to the stomach.

It’s poisoned by an odd sadness as well, though. With their books spread out across the table and a familiar swooping feeling in her chest, Nancy can’t help but be reminded of Barb. Guilt floods through her, the feeling so frequent these days that it’s more intimate than anything else, like something inseparable from who she is now.

She clears her throat roughly, swallowing past the thickness. “Where is Eddie, then, if you’re supposed to be working?”

Robin crosses her arms, looking glum. “He said he was going to go to the bathroom about twenty minutes ago. I think he ditched me. Probably should have been suspicious when he brought his whole bag with him.”

Nancy manages to suppress her smirk for a whole half second. “Yeah, I think he did. Probably in the kitchens or back in bed.”

“Bastard,” Robin grumbles as she lets her head drop to the table once more, expression despondent. “He’s supposed to be doing our Transfiguration essays in exchange for Charms.”

“Well, I’m sure I’m nowhere near Eddie’s level, but I can help if you need.”

The speed with which Robin’s head shoots up, mouth pulled wide into a blinding grin, is almost comedic, but most definitely charming. “Nance, I’ll owe you a Butterbeer for sure.”

She laughs. “Oh, considering accumulation over the years and interest rates, I’m pretty sure you’d have to buy out the Three Broomsticks with how much you owe me.” Nancy’s tempted to say that Robin’s help last year, and her general willingness to even be her friend, is enough for her to strike any drinks from the record, but she bites it back at the last second.

Robin squints as she pretends to consider the problem before shrugging shamelessly. “Hey, if I’m this deep in the hole already then there’s nothing wrong with digging myself in a little more. I’ll start to work on the deficit next weekend?”

Nancy realises with a weird shock that, subconsciously, she had been planning to go with Jonathan, but the prospect of hanging out with Robin is suddenly much more appealing, even ignoring the boy’s newfound determination to avoid Nancy.

“Sounds like a plan,” she agrees, sending Robin a gentle smile before sliding Eddie’s abandoned essay attempt over to her side of the table. She casts a quick look over the scribbled notes, the parchment so heavily scratched over that the ink has bled through in places. Honestly, Nancy’s ability to hold back an unimpressed sigh should be considered superhuman.

Robin, though, can always read her mind.

“Think you can do better, then?”

Nancy gives her a bashful grimace. “Promise not to tell Eddie just how much of an academic snob I am?”

“Only if you let me use a Copy Paste spell and then tweak some details so Eddie doesn’t have to write his own.” Robin gives her a rakish grin in challenge, her smile only growing when Nancy shrugs carelessly.

“Got nothing against that, though he will owe me a drink too.”

Robin feigns an affronted gasp. “Nancy Wheeler! Swindling your poor friends out of twice as many drinks as you’ve worked for? How dare you?”

Nancy laughs, shameless and brash about her Slytherin nature for once in her laugh. “Why shouldn’t I? You need me if you want to have any essays. I think that entitles me to both drinks.”

“Suppose so,” Robin relents, grinning. “Besides, it’s Eddie you’re swindling, not me. Not when I already owe so much.”

“No,” Nancy agrees brightly, “you’ll still be owing me drinks when we’re grey and old.”

She colours the seconds that she realises what she’s said. It’s far too forward, based on an assumption that Robin will even want her around much longer. She’s debating the awkwardness of trying to take the statement back when the other girl breaks into a wide smile.

“Sounds fair to me,” she shrugs genially. “I accept my fate.”

Nancy takes a long time to react, but her smile, slow and spreading, is as genuine as anything.

“Alright then.”

She ducks her head so that Robin can’t see the blush that rises in her cheeks and creeps down her neck and decides to get to work, glad to focus on Transfiguration instead of dwelling on just how many times Robin has come to her rescue.

————

“Miss Wheeler,” Brenner sighs as she hits the floor for the nth time this evening, “I thought you wanted this.” Nancy, no matter her feelings about him, feels the familiar sting of disappointing someone as she pulls herself up off her knees, her skin scraped and gashed even through the fabric of her robes.

“I do,” she bites out, raising her chin. He stares her down, disapproval glimmering in his narrowed eyes.

“It doesn’t seem like it. And, it has to be said, I do not find teenage angst interesting enough to watch it over and over again.”

Nancy tries not to bristle. She’s just glad that she’s thrown Brenner out of her head before he can touch anything too precious. She doesn’t want to think about his greedy hands getting on too much of Nancy’s innards. He has the distinct air of someone who might dissect her just to understand the exact way that she ticks if she makes herself too interesting to him.

“You don’t even join Duelling Club anymore,” Brenner continues. His air is detached, but it’s a strange dichotomy when Nancy considers the fact that he’s clearly looking for her there.

Nancy grimaces. “I haven’t lost at Duelling Club in years. It hardly feels productive upon everything else.”

Brenner raises his eyebrows. “Oh, so you think you know everything there is to be known about duelling? Well, let us step back and admire you, this 14-year-old prodigy.”

“Sorry, sir. That’s not what I mean,” Nancy grinds out, flushing. His condescension makes her throat thick with anger, but she can’t afford to show it.

Brenner hums to himself, raising his chin as he stares down at her. “Well, then. Remember not to get too wrapped up in your hubris, Miss Wheeler. Clearly, you can’t even manage simple Occlumency.”

“Yes, sir.”

She’s managed to kick him out of her head every time he gets too close to something that she doesn’t want him to touch, but he’s right in that he manages to get past her defences too easily most of the time. Nancy doesn’t want him to be able to take anything from her — not even the fraction that he does.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Brenner dismisses her with a toss of his head, something flinty and cold in his expression as Nancy swallows a protest with a nod and gathers up her things. Her books had clearly spilled out her bag a little when she set it down earlier in the evening, and she sees the moment that Brenner’s eyes catch on the titles printed across the spines. “Studying the Patronus spell, Miss Wheeler?”

She swallows harshly, trying not to react by shoving the books into her bag as quickly as possible. Before, this need to defend herself against the Dementors might have been something Nancy would have confessed to him — it’s not so different from her reaction to being locked in that broom cupboard. Now, though, in the wake of his reaction to the murders last year, things are different. Asking Brenner for help with the Patronus spell feels like a step too much. She has to figure that out on her own: she can’t let him pry his fingers into her cracks that much, can’t let him see all the fear and dread that keep her cogs ticking round, that keep her from letting it all wear her down. Brenner can’t have that, she vows to herself, locking the care behind the fear deep in her chest. Instead, she keeps that to her and Cassie. She has the odd feeling that telling anyone else would taint the memories and efforts somehow, like sticky fingers staining all the good things that Nancy has pried for herself out of every cold and sharp moment of the past few years.

“Just an interest, sir,” she says, purposefully airy. “With the current times, you understand?”

Brenner hums, his gaze piercing as he watches her. Eventually he nods sharply, gesturing to the door with a lazy wave of his hand. “Well. Maybe devote more of that interest to Occlumency or else I might start thinking you’re wasting my time.”

“Of course, sir,” she grinds out, nodding once before turning on her heel and striding out of the classroom. It feels odd, after the harmlessness of that interaction, to have her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears, but she can’t help but feel like she’s escaped the belly of the beast, if only for just a moment.

————

With things being awkward with Jonathan, Nancy wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone else dropped off as well. Mike and the kids keep to themselves, with a thick sense of dread enveloping Nancy every time that she sees them huddled together, whispering in some dark corner. But, oddly enough, she finds that life doesn’t get any emptier, even without the chaos of last year.

Eddie apparently considers what they went through in the tunnels enough have bonded them for life as, when he isn’t with his friends trying to devise a way to imbue their muggle game, Dungeons and Dragons, with magic, he seems to seek her and Robin out, flopping into the library chairs with a huff and a pout every single time, even though he’s the one who keeps coming back. Nancy doesn’t say anything about it, irrationally worried that bringing that fact to attention would break the strange spell that has somehow kept him around. She just gives him a smile instead, letting him tell her about what plans he has next for his ‘campaign’ and giving him pointers to sort out plot holes. He doesn’t need to know that she's started keeping track of the narrative in a notebook.

“You know, Wheeler,” he angles for the millionth time when they’re on the way to the Quidditch pitch, “you could join us if you wanted.”

Nancy laughs, the motion jostling her broom that she has slung over her shoulder. “I don’t even understand the game, Eddie.”

He scowls. “It’s no less complicated than Quidditch.”

“I’ve seen the handbook you have, dude. It’s like the size of my head. It’s categorically not a handbook. It’s definitely way more complicated than Quidditch.”

Eddie sticks his tongue out at her, petulant and childish, before kicking some stones ahead of them at Robin, who's got her head ducked, focusing on something in her hands. “Buckley! Settle the argument.”

“Fuck off, Munson,” she calls back without looking up, but there’s something absent about it.

Nancy bites at her lip, debating for a second before jogging slightly, leaving Eddie in the dust as they continue to make their way down the muddy path to the pitch. It’s the point of autumn where all the picturesque beauty has grown a bit old, and the dirt and rot and mud have set in instead. “Hey, Rob, what’s up?”

She catches sight of a ragged piece of parchment in Robin’s hand before the other girl screws it up and stuffs it in her robe pocket. “I’m fine, Nance,” she mutters, a bit strained, and Nancy feels cautious enough about the situation that she doesn’t want to point out the fact that Robin hadn’t really answered the question properly. She nudges her with her shoulder instead, doing her best to paint an uncharacteristically warm smile on her features. “You know you two don’t have to come with me to the pitch, right?”

Robin shrugs, her smile finally settling into something real — warm and true. “Don’t be stupid, Nance. Eddie’s hoping you fall off.”

“No, I’m not!” Eddie calls forward, but there’s enough laughter in his voice that Nancy knows he’s lying. Still, she turns around with a smirk. She knows she’s good enough not to fall off — she hasn’t since she was seven.

“He’ll be waiting a long ass time then.”

Robin laughs, loud and bright, the sound curling off into the autumn wind. “True.”

Nancy notices that Robin doesn’t justify why she’s tagging along but she doesn’t mention it. The two of them have done this a couple of times, huddling together in the stands of the pitch whilst Nancy practises her dives and feints. She’s clueless as to why, but doesn’t want to press it. She’s secretly happy for the company anyway. Grace sometimes comes to get some extra practice as well, with the other girl less able to practise her passing without someone to fling the Quaffle at, but the two of them aren’t the best suited practice partners. At least on her own, Nancy can focus on some of the more technical aspects of her flying.

Her brain goes blissfully blank the second that her feet leave the ground. It doesn’t take long for Robin and Eddie in the stands to shrink to tiny specks, Nancy dangling in the sheer emptiness of the sky. It makes her feel weightless in an oddly peaceful way, every breath that she takes crisp and cold from the altitude. After a while of practising her more impressive techniques, though she’d deny that she’s showing off to anyone who asks, she eventually settles back on the ground, surprised to find Robin waiting for her on the pitch, a cocked eyebrow and twisted smile painted across her features.

“How much of this actually helps?”

There’s a pause whilst Nancy still sucks in air, all the breath punched out of her by the force of the adrenaline rushing through her. “What are you talking about?” She pants.

“Well, it’s not like you’re practising catching the Snitch. Just faking out other players.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she trails off, pouting a little at the Wronski Feint being reduced so matter-of-factly, before grinning. “You know what, that’s actually great point, Robin.”

The girl pauses, surprised. “Yeah?”

Nancy nods, still smiling to herself as she summons a perfectly sized rock from the path to the pitch. She turns it over in her hands, evaluating. It’s not completely spherical, and it doesn’t have wings but once she casts a Colour-Change Charm, transforming it to a shimmering gold, it passes well enough for the Snitch that she’s supposed to be searching for.

Robin grins. “I can’t believe you didn’t think of this before. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Nancy squints her eyes at her. “Fuck off back to Munson. He looks lonely,” she bites out, though there’s no venom to it, as Robin flips her off, laughing her back to the stands with Eddie. She pulls out her wand, quickly enchanting the rock to flit about the field.

“If you want to make it really realistic, you should get some to act like Bludgers,” Eddie calls from where he’s seated.

Nancy rolls her eyes. “That feels like a recipe for disaster. Maybe I’ll transfigure one into a softer ball. I don’t fancy being hit with a rock at full speed.”

“Pussy,” Eddie counters and Nancy shakes her head, affection rushing through her.

“I thought you didn’t understand Quidditch! No lip from the cheap seats.”

Still, she follows his advice and conjures a couple of small soft balls to race after her as she speeds around the pitch. It adds an element of realism that she may have been missing from her earlier practices and, short of convincing Robin and Eddie to hop on a broom, it is the closest that she can get to emulating a real game situation. This time, when she lands, it’s with a grin that even she can’t deny. Eddie rolls his eyes at the sight of it, but even he is smiling a little.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a prick, Wheeler?”

“Many times. Why now?”

Robin laughs, a little huff of air that just barely crystallises in front of her in the autumn air. “Why do you have to be the best at everything? Have you ever chilled out, like, once?”

Nancy shrugs, something in her chest pulling and straining. “Not that I can remember.”

Eddie laughs, but spreads his arms wide. “That’s why we love you, dude, don’t stress. You would be far less entertaining if you weren’t so tightly wound.” From anyone else it would be mildly insulting at the least, but there’s something about the grin on his face as he says it that cushions the blow, that takes out any of the barb and sting from the words.

Nancy flips him off instead, rolling her eyes as she slings her broom over her shoulder. “Do you guys want to go back inside or stay out here slinging childish insults at me?”

“Are you calling us childish?” Robin gasps, flinging a hand to her chest. Eddie pretends to faint from horror, collapsing into her side and Nancy shakes her head in exasperation, though a certain kind of fondness creeps in at the edges. A lightness that she’s still getting used to.

“Absolutely not, I can’t imagine why you would think that,” she drawls, raising an eyebrow at the way that Eddie pops back up pouting, his hair sticking in all directions from his dramatics. She doesn’t muffle her laugh, the sound ringing bright and free in the air of the Quidditch pitch, even if she bites at the inside of her cheek afterwards. Still, the look in Eddie’s eyes is warm and good-natured, and Robin’s answering laugh rivals Nancy’s own. The three of them trudge back from the pitch, a grin still pulling at her wind-burnt cheeks when they run into Brenner in the Entrance Hall.

“Sorry, sir,” she gets out through her surprise, the happiness in her chest bursting like a balloon. Robin and Eddie mumble something similar behind her, but it’s Nancy that Brenner’s sharp eyes land on.

“Miss Wheeler. I’m surprised you have time for extra Quidditch practices.”

It’s a thinly veiled barb at the fact that she hasn’t been performing as well in their little private sessions as he wants. His disappointment, as much as she distrusts the man, is peculiarly suffocating — targeted and pointed enough poke and prod at all the weaknesses she has been trying to cover up.

“Just trying to make sure that we don’t lose the Quidditch Cup this year, Professor,” she bites out, trying to keep the resentment out of her voice. Before, Nancy would have folded in an instance, and she can’t help but imagine the way that Barb’s eyes might have shone with pride as she straightens her spine and stares back, unnerved, at Brenner.

The professor hums, something dissatisfied in the crinkle of his nose. “Well. Don’t forget to come see me this evening. I hope you won’t be quite so disappointing as you were last session or else I might have to rescind the offer.”

Nancy’s chest twists, and she longs to bite out some kind of protest, but she knows it would be pointless. She’s at Brenner’s whim. Know thy enemy, she reminds herself, as she ducks her head.

“Of course, sir. See you then.”

He lingers for another moment, surveying her with that strangely piercing, all-knowing gaze, before moving on without another word. Robin casts a frown in Nancy’s direction. “What was that about?”

“He’s helping me with some extra Defence Against the Dark Arts stuff,” Nancy says. It’s the truth, if a little vague. Robin’s frown deepens, and she knows it’s not enough to satisfy the other girl.

“What kind of stuff? Why is he being such a hard-ass about it?”

“Because he’s Brenner,” Nancy shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s helping me learn Occlumency.” She not sure why it feels like such a confession. She hasn’t told anyone about the extra lessons, the memory of Barb’s disapproval too sharp to bear, but it’s not wrong. Just odd how much pressure he puts on her, like he’s trying to mould her into something she doesn’t want to fit into anymore.

Eddie’s mouth quirks up into a smirk. “Mega-nerd Wheeler strikes again.”

“Fuck off,” she retorts, wrinkling her nose dismissively. Eddie laughs but Robin still looks a little worried. “After everything that happened last year, I guess I thought it made sense to try and build some defences.”

Now guilt blooms in Robin’s face, and Nancy’s stomach twists. She didn’t mean to plant that seed, to make Robin think that there was something more to what had happened last year. She doesn’t talk about what Vecna showed her, and Nancy can’t bear the idea of anyone realising just how much the memory haunts her. She’s supposed to be impenetrable.

“Sure,” Robin eventually says, smiling at Nancy. There’s a certain kind of softness at the edges of it that makes Nancy think it’s supposed to be comforting, though it only makes the guilt churning in her stomach worse. “I get that. But, like, Brenner is a creepy fucking dude, yeah? I don’t know, it just feels drastic to let him root around in your head, Nance. We worry, y’know, and-”

Nancy cuts her off with a grin. “Look, it’s all good. Brenner’s definitely suspicious and a little too into Vecna, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because now both Eddie and Robin look alarmed.

“What do you mean? Do you think he’s working with him?”

Nancy shrugs, helpless. “I mean, do I think he used to be a Death Eater? Sure, but don’t most people think that? Do I think he’s currently working for Vecna? Maybe? Is he going to do anything now? Definitely not.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie frowns, looking frazzled as he runs an absent hand through his hair. It’s a tick that he gets when he’s worried and something pulls in Nancy’s chest to know that it’s her who put that worry there. “How do you know?”

She grimaces as she tries to think of how to explain. “I mean, he’s suspicious, but he’s clever, too. He might be a spy on the inside and it’s definitely not a good idea to let anything slip to him, but he’s also too smart to get really mixed up in any schemes.”

“He’s playing the long game?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie scowls. “Yeah, you get how that’s worse, right? Like, him being clever and planning something big is objectively fucking worse?”

“Obviously, Munson, I’m not an idiot,” Nancy bites back, making a face at him. “But he’s also under the impression that I’m going to be his dark little apprentice, so there’s no point in burning that bridge. He’s teaching me all his secrets, and all I have to do is not let it slip that I’m working him.”

Robin groans into her hands, long and drawn-out. “You’re such a Slytherin, my God.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“What if it backfires?” Robin retorts, and all Nancy can do is shrug.

“It’s worth that risk. Maybe he’ll tell me more of what he’s planning. I think he’s starting to trust me a little more.”

“He’s grooming you,” Eddie throws his hands up in the air, “and you’re just fine with it?”

Nancy shrugs. “Yeah, basically. Know thy enemy, right?”

“You’re insane,” Robin tells her, rubbing at her pinched brow. “Like, you’re actually aging me, Wheeler. Actively giving me grey hairs, I hope you realise that.”

“This makes sense, guys!” She protests, crossing her arms. She isn’t doing anything wrong, and Nancy is beginning to regret coming clean. “Brenner is here either way — we might as well use it.”

Robin seems to relent, but she levies a finger in her direction anyway, looking harried in a way that only Robin could. “If you get yourself killed, know now that it’s your own fault.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but salutes anyway. “Got it, boss.”

Eddie grimaces. “You owe us updates now, Wheeler.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I do not.”

Robin pinches the bridge of her nose again, holding up a hand to interrupt the back-and-forth between Nancy and Eddie. “Okay, you definitely do, Jesus Christ. That’s the price of having friends, dumbass. Eddie, chill out, though, man. She’s going to do what she wants and Nancy doesn’t listen to anyone but herself.”

“And maybe Cassie,” Nancy interjects smugly. Robin sighs, waving a hand in recognition.

“Yes. And maybe Cassie. But the bottom line is: you’re giving us updates, Nancy. If Brenner gets suspicious, we need to know.”

“This is such a stupid idea,” Eddie grumbles, but it’s more lighthearted now. Nancy grins.

“I am related to Mike after all. What did you expect?”

“God, that’s so true,” he grumbles, planting his head in his hands. “That kid’s a menace and the family resemblance is unbelievable.”

Robin raises an incredulous eyebrow, turning away from Nancy completely as she faces Eddie. “Shit like this really makes me wonder why I ever came to fucking wizard-school.”

“God, me too. They’re all fucking insane, but we’re the weird ones for being Muggleborn.”

Nancy scowls, folding her arms. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I don’t know about tennis or whatever Robin talks about. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Robin smirks at the memory. “Fine. Just remember the rules, Wheeler. I expect updates about how your little session with the wizard nazi goes tonight.” At that, she slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and starts walking back with him towards the Hufflepuff dorms, their heads crowded together. Nancy has a strange feeling in her chest at the sight. It’s nice to be cared for, sure, but she knows she’s right, here. The possibility of manipulating Brenner and finding out what he’s up to is just too big to pass up. And if it can give her some advantages, then all the better — she already knows more curses than most seventh-years and is the best duellist in the school. That’s because of Brenner, as much as she wants to deny it. Nancy tells herself that she doesn’t care about the upsides of honing her magic and her power. That isn’t the point, she doesn’t want to be moulded into a weapon. The words ring hollow even in her own head, but she shakes the feeling loose.

Robin and Eddie will get over it.

That evening, she’s more nervous than normal to meet Brenner, and she can’t help but grumble in her head. This is all Robin and Eddie’s fault — they got in her head. Brenner looks over her once more, his critical eye even sharper than ever as she places her bag carefully on one of the desks, shucking her robe and rolling her sleeves up. She had learned quickly in this process that Brenner won’t go easy on her and there’s no point in trying to stay pin neat.

“Miss Wheeler. Glad you could take some time out of your busy Quidditch schedule to join me.”

She resists the urge to scowl. “Apologies, sir.”

“No need to apologise. Just stay dedicated.” His voice is sharp, but not suspicious. “I don’t take time out for distracted students.”

“Understood.”

Nancy swallows harshly as Brenner sighs and rises from behind his desk. He doesn’t bother asking if she’s ready, just like usual. Instead, he flicks his wand casually, almost absently, as he strides towards her, but Nancy feels like she’s just run into a wall as the classroom swims in front of her eyes. Suddenly, it’s like she’s back in her ten-year-old body, trying to stop Mike from crying over a skinned knee. She promises him ice cream, and her heart sings at the way that his eyes brighten. She’s eleven and swallowing down shame and bitterness and horror as the Sorting Hat yells out that she’s in Slytherin. She’s twelve and feeling nauseous in the pitch black of a locked broom-cupboard.

In another flash, Nancy is back in the present, her chest heaving. There’s an odd hoarseness to her throat, and it’s only that roughness when she tries to swallow that makes her realise that she’s been screaming. Frustrated, she brushes herself off, grimacing.

“You hate being a Slytherin that much?” Brenner presses, amused. Nancy tries not to stiffen.

“Not now that I’m not eleven. People don’t mess with me for it as much.”

Brenner hums, nodding. “Ah. The duelling.”

“Yes, sir,” she confirms. He knows as much after she came to him in second year, but clearly Brenner like his information first hand. Nancy scowls to herself. She hates the way that Brenner gets to delight in the humiliation of her opening herself up like this. “It worked, in the end.”

Brenner smiles to himself, a little smug and more than a little self-righteous. “Yes, I suppose it did. Though, I believe half of the school being convinced that you are the Heir of Slytherin helped as well.”

Nancy grimaces, nodding once sharply, before shoving all memories of third year out of her mind. She can’t let him touch those, in case he doesn’t know the details of what happened to Will, in case he doesn’t know what El can do. She can’t let him know that she helped El, if she really is going to try and ingratiate herself with him properly. She knows that Brenner is searching through her head, that he has ulterior motives for these training sessions as well. Even when he forces her way into her head, Nancy refuses to let him see anything precious to her.

Brenner casts the spell again, and Nancy is thrown back into her own head once more, though she forces herself to remember a specific memory this time. She thinks about homework, remembers writing an essay over and over and over until her whole head is consumed with it. She’s only aware that she’s breaking from the pattern when she feels herself starting to look up and spots the edge of a chin, honey blonde strands of hair framing the jawline, and then she throws Brenner out of the memory.

She blinks, opening her eyes to find herself leaning on one of the desks, panting and sweaty. Nancy’s not quite sure what happened, why or how she managed to end the spell, but Brenner looks vaguely impressed.

“Good job focusing on a harmless memory. History of Magic essays?”

“Who could possibly want to stay in that memory for too long?” She snarks back, running an exhausted hand through her hair. Brenner nods, an odd edge of pride to the slant of his mouth.

“Throwing me out was too violent and sudden, though. You have to make it seem like the spell succeeded fully, like there was no defence. Being able to turn around and kick the caster out of your head is the opposite of subtle.”

“Right,” Nancy nods. At least she’s finally making progress. Until now it’s been session after session of Brenner managing to pry his way into all of her childhood memories, though she had managed to stop him from getting into any of her really sensitive ones.

Brenner looks at her for a long moment. “You have great potential, Miss Wheeler. You need to make sure that you don’t waste it.”

“Sir?”

There’s a beat before he continues, head tilted and gaze heavy on Nancy. It makes her want to squirm, that searching look, but she stands firm. “Every wizard and witch makes choices, Miss Wheeler,” he warns, though his voice is very carefully and purposefully light. “Choices that change the fundamental paths of their lives. You should be careful to pick the ones that give you the most chance of unlocking that potential.”

She bites at her lip. “And which path would that be?”

Brenner smiles, cold and sharp. “I believe being here tells you enough about that. It is important to consider where and how you have learned the most in your time at Hogwarts.”

“With you, sir,” she fires back, and it’s not a lie, even if she is still trying to make him think she could be some sort of Death-Eater-in-training. Brenner tilts his head in acknowledgement.

“Your brother is friends with Jane Ives, is he not?”

She startles, though Nancy probably should have seen this coming. “Yes, I suppose so, sir.”

“And what are your thoughts?”

“On Jane Ives?”

“Obviously.”

She pauses. This is clearly some sort of test. “I can’t say I really pay much attention to her, sir.”

He smirks, looking amused. “Really? One of the most famous figures in wizarding history and you are apathetic?”

Nancy shrugs. “At the end of the day, she’s barely a second year, sir. Whatever happened doesn’t seem to have much to do with her at all.” The lie is two-fold. If Brenner doesn’t know about El’s weird mind void powers — which Nancy really needs to dig into, she reminds herself — then they’re all good. If he does know about the powers, then he won’t think that Nancy is close enough with the kids to know anything about them. Considering the context of their situation, Nancy does her best to keep her mind blank as she lies, to tell herself that it’s the truth, to believe wholeheartedly that she thinks El is just a boring second year student who doesn’t live up to the hype of the name Jane Ives. She can’t afford for Brenner to see through the lie, and she knows Legimens spells aren’t always as obvious as they have been tonight. Sometimes it’s just a creeping sensation at the corner of her mind, a prickling on the back of her neck. She knows she has to be careful.

After a long moment, he sucks a breath past his teeth, his gaze unnerving as he stares at her. “I suppose that’s true enough, Miss Wheeler. Good work this evening. I’ll see you in class.”

She takes the dismissal easily, gathering her things as quickly as she can. It’s a good sign that he might have bought it, considering the fact that he hadn’t pressed any harder. It’s a good sign that he asked at all — even if he isn’t a Death Eater, which Nancy doubts, it’s clear he’s interested in something to do with El. And Nancy’s going to find out what, right after she warns her.

But, to do that, she’s going to have to get past Gryffindor’s inordinately judgemental portrait guarding their common room.

“Look, I’m just trying to talk to my brother, okay?” Nancy grinds out, pinching at her nose in frustration.

The woman in the portrait, rather offensively apparently titled the Fat Lady, huffs angrily. “No one gets in if they don’t have the password. I can’t just break the rules for you, girlie.”

“Okay, well, can you talk to someone on the inside and get them to send my brother out?”

“I’m a portrait, girlie,” the lady harrumphs disapprovingly. “I’m not exactly double-sided. Just wait a while, someone will be along.”

Nancy huffs, more than a little petulantly, as she leans against the wall, resigning herself to do just as the portrait says and wait. Thankfully, it’s still early enough in the evening that other students are wandering about the halls and someone does indeed come to the common room entrance pretty quickly.

“Hey, can you go get Jane Ives for me?” She asks the sixth-year girl, Daisy, trying to get in, whom she vaguely recognises from Duelling Club.

Daisy gives her a curious look, raising an eyebrow. “What do you need with Ives?”

Nancy tries not to scowl. “I just need to talk to her.”

“Wheeler, come on. Leave her be.”

“Why does everyone think I’m harassing you Gyffindors? I just want to talk to her! She’s friends with my brother.”

Daisy holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, chill out. I’ll ask her.”

“Thank you!” Nancy calls after the girl as she mutters the password to the Fat Lady and clambers through the portrait hall, throwing a thumbs up over her shoulder as she does. Nancy huffs a laugh out as she watches the portrait slam close — as cold as the dungeons can get, she’s glad that at least most of her dignity is intact as she does have to shove her way through a hole in the wall just to get to the Slytherin common room. They have a door, like normal people.

“Nancy?”

El’s voice startles her, despite her waiting for the kid specifically. Nancy grins as she turns to her, and her triumph isn’t even mitigated by the fact that Mike’s head peeks out of the portrait hole right above El’s.

“Can you two just come out here and talk to me properly?” She can’t help but snark, rolling her eyes. Mike huffs in protest but goes along with the request, ushering El out in front of him.

“Alright, what’s up?” He demands, crossing his arms with indignation. It’s a little comical on someone so short and baby-faced. Nancy tries not to grin too widely, especially as she steels herself for getting to the point.

“I need to talk to you about Brenner.”

“The professor?” El asks, face screwing up with confusion.

Nancy nods, trying not to look too grim. “He’s been helping me with some more advanced Defence magic after class and he kept mentioning El.”

“So?” Mike presses but El, with her perfectly serious expression, nods.

“You think he is with Vecna?”

Nancy shrugs, frustration at her own helplessness rising in her chest. “Look, I’m not sure about anything. But I am saying that you should do your best to not interact with him more than you have to, okay? I’m keeping an eye on him and everything, but figured it was worth giving you a heads up.”

Mike nods, looking a little suspicious, but El at least gives her a smile. It’s soft and sweet in the pure kind of way that El seems to consistently manage. Nancy can’t not return it. “Thank you, Nancy.”

“It’s fine,” she manages, clearing her throat. “Just, let me know if he says anything, okay?”

She watches Mike open his mouth to say something but she’s already turning tail and striding away, shoving down the turmoil, the roiling mixture of frustration and anger and worry for her brother and his friends and the infuriating helplessness that sits heavily on her chest.

Clearly, the incident makes her brother more amenable to talking to her, though it only seems to be when he wants her to do something for him.

Nancy isn’t the only one of them moving forward after last year. Her and Jonathan might barely talk, but she’s become closer with Robin and Eddie. Whenever Robin isn’t with Steve, she seems to be with Nancy or Eddie. The surprising thing, though, is that when Steve isn’t with Robin, he seems to be with Eddie.

Truthfully, she doesn’t notice it till Mike complains about it. Apparently, Eddie had taken them under his nerd wing or something, because the whole bunch of them had been recruited into his Dungeons and Dragons club. Nancy didn’t really understand the appeal in pretending to be a wizard when they already were actual wizards, but the one time she had expressed that to Eddie, he had rolled his eyes so hard that it appeared to cause him physical pain. She had then been promptly and primly informed that Dungeons and Dragons was all about friendship and camaraderie and adventure. Also, they could apparently pretend to be more than just wizards. Nancy had added that to the notebook, even if she didn’t really understand.

It means that she’s better able to control her reaction, though, when Mike flops down next to her at the breakfast table one morning, when the sky was tinged grey and gloomy and the grounds were beginning to take on the crisp sense of early winter chill.

Grace, sitting next to her, jumps half out of her skin and glares fiercely at Mike, who doesn’t even flinch. “Merlin’s balls, Wheeler, control your brother.”

It’s only when Nancy notices that the scowl on her face is identical to Mike’s that she flushes, flipping a smug Grace off instead. “Fuck off, Liu, you’re not even eating breakfast anymore, just mooning over Declan.”

Grace blushes furiously, swatting at Nancy’s shoulder as she swings her legs over the bench and makes to leave. “Keep your damn mouth shut, you ass, or I’ll shut it for you.”

Nancy rolls her eyes as the older girl leaves, turning to her little brother. “What’s going on?”

Mike stares at her, something unrecognisable in his face, for just a moment before he snaps back into himself, glaring and frowning instead. The fierceness of it doesn’t quite suit his face, still round with baby fat, and Nancy tries to tell herself that it doesn’t pull at her heartstrings just a little. “Tell your boyfriend to leave Eddie alone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Steve,” he spits, rolling his eyes. She’s pretty sure the vicious hatred that plays across his face is directed at Steve rather than her, though she’s surprised to know that he has the depths to hate more than just her. Nancy feels her jaw drop just a little, a flicker of indignation rising in her chest that she does her best to bat back.

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just get him to leave Eddie alone.”

“Why is he bothering Eddie?” Nancy presses, frowning. That doesn’t seem like Steve — sure, back when she had been in second year, he had been a bit smug and arrogant, but Robin had been good for him. The two of them had settled into their own little niche since they had become friends, and he didn’t run with the popular asshole crowd as much anymore. Nancy would be surprised if he was genuinely giving Eddie shit.

“He’s not bothering him, he just keeps hanging out with him all the time,” Mike says, nose wrinkled like he can’t imagine why someone like Eddie would ever hang out with someone like Steve.

Nancy stares at him for a second, resisting the urge to rub at her forehead as she feels a headache coming on. She’s not quite sure why Mike is so fixated on the idea that Eddie and Steve can’t be friends, or whatever, or that Eddie belongs to him, just because he’s playing some fantasy game with them.

“Mike, I don’t control Steve or Eddie. Talk to one of them,” she dismisses, rolling her eyes. She can’t believe he interrupted her breakfast for this, even if she had been growing bored of Grace’s borderline hostile reaction to Declan’s obliviousness.

“Merlin, you are zero help,” he grumbles, shoving away from the table and stalking off. She frowns at his back but buries her concerns, though it does plant a seed of wonderment that she can’t help but return to from time to time. She, admittedly, had bigger things to focus on when they were down in the Chamber last year, but she supposes that she’s noticed the two of them hanging out this term more than maybe she would have expected before, but Nancy hadn’t made a big deal out of it. Not like Mike apparently thought it was and, as reluctant as she is to give credence to literally any of Mike’s suspicions, something in Nancy is piqued.

Sure enough, she is apparently not the only person that Eddie will go trekking down to the Quidditch pitch for, as she spots them coming back from the grounds one night. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, dusted with a pink blush that doesn’t just come from the chill of the wind outside. Eddie keeps running his hands through his hair in a way that she’s never quite seen before, and Nancy continues her walk back to the dorms with a wide grin on her face. It’s funny to see the two of them dance around each other, whatever might be going on there. Steve needs people in his corner, she knows, and seeing Eddie with him doesn’t raise her hackles quite like seeing Robin does. Nancy tries not to think too hard about why that might be.

When she asks Robin what she thinks, though, the other girl clams up.

“What are you talking about?” She presses, a high and strained laugh slipping out of her. They’re in the Hufflepuff Common Room — a rare example of Nancy venturing out of her usual spaces. The glares that she gets are less commonly from Puffs, so it’s not as hostile as other places in the castle, and its worth it either way to hang out with Robin. The other girl had been sprawled across an armchair, limbs dangling out into empty space, but now she scrambles up into a more reasonable position, fixing Nancy with an odd look.

She is struck with the strange urge to hold her hands up in surrender. “All I’m asking is if you’ve noticed Steve and Eddie hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Robin acquiesces, shrugging. There’s a sharp edge to it all, though, and it makes that niggling sense of something being up in the back of Nancy’s head worse. “I don’t question it too much, though. Just happy to have Steve out of my hair.”

Nancy doesn’t think that’s quite right. Robin is never genuinely annoyed with having Steve around — fondly exasperated with the boy, sure, but never more than that. “Fair enough,” she says instead of pressing, giving Robin an easy smile. The other girl’s shoulders loosen a little, and they move on, but something in Nancy’s head just keeps ticking. Robin and Eddie, and Steve by extension, aren’t telling her something. She tries not to get all doom and gloom about it. People are allowed to have secrets, but she can’t help but wonder why Robin, at the least, would keep something from her.

Nancy lets it go, for now. She keeps the peace, and Robin seems relieved at her relenting, and life goes on. She watched Eddie and Steve a little closer, if only out of curiosity, but life goes on.

————

With half the castle convinced that she’s the Heir of Slytherin and a murderer, Nancy isn’t surprised that the harassment mainly stops. The only person who refuses to let up is Billy, and even then he doesn’t target Nancy. No, he seems to have a grudge for Steve instead. The two of them had some kind of weird rivalry before, but whatever was going on there was getting worse by the day.

The only person he apparently has more of an issue with than Steve is Max Mayfield.

Nancy isn’t close with any of Mike’s friends, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t take notice of them. The only exception is maybe Dustin, who comes to her every so often with questions and discussions about the technical features of magic that are far more advanced than second-year-level. Max, though, seems to resent Nancy almost as much as Mike does and almost as much as she resents Mike, despite sticking around him. Nancy isn’t actually sure she’s seen Max smile at anyone except for Lucas and El, with the two girls being almost inseparable.

Regardless of any of this, though, Nancy couldn’t just sit by and let Billy harass Max. So, when she comes across him standing over her, grinning maliciously in that particularly chilling way of his, Nancy doesn’t really think twice.

“Billy, fuck off and get a life,” Nancy bites out, lazy and dismissive in the only way that he seems to respect. “What, the best you can do is pick on second years?”

“Piss off, Wheeler, I don’t need fucking saving,” Max hisses, but Nancy doesn’t pay her any heed.

“Seriously, Hargrove. You really think this is worth it?”

Billy scowls at her. “Fuck off, Wheeler. You really think you’re the shit so much that I’ll just do what you say?”

Nancy slips her hand into her pocket, drawing her wand casually. “I think you’ll turn tail and run or else get hit with enough Stinging Hexes that you’ll end up in the hospital wing.”

“Fuck you, you don’t have the guts,” Billy sneers, abandoning his attempt to lean over Max in favour of stalking towards Nancy, towering over her as he stops just inches away from her. “Go on, Wheeler. Hex me.”

She stares up at him, unflinching. The column of his throat bobs as he swallows harshly, and eventually he falters, looking away and taking a step back. “Whatever, Wheeler,” he scowls. Billy shoves past her, knocking her back with his shoulder as he stalks away.

With him gone, Max glares at her with almost as much vitriol as he did.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because he’s an asshole?”

Max’s scowl just depends. “I don’t need saving.”

Despite how much the redhead clashes with her brother, based on some of the arguments she’s caught wind of in the Great Hall, Nancy can’t help but think that they are remarkably similar. “I never said that. Maybe I just don’t like it when he messes with people.”

Max shakes her head, and beneath all the anger and venom, Nancy almost thinks that she sees a flicker of something more. Something much more inwardly directed. Unbidden, she remembers the pit in her stomach when the Hat had called out Slytherin, the way that people would stare at her like she doesn’t belong, like she is a puzzle piece that has too many bits that stick out where they shouldn’t.

Maybe it’s a kindred spirit sort of thing or maybe Nancy just recognises someone who can’t see what they want to in themselves. But Max’s robes are trimmed with red not green. Max has everything that Nancy’s ever wanted, and she doesn’t quite know what else she could be looking for.

“He fucks with me too. Have you seen the shit he says to Steve Harrington? I’d interrupt either way.”

The girl looks doubtful, but some of the hostility melts away either way, so Nancy counts it as a win, even if Max proceeds to shove roughly past her just like Billy did.

————

Winter settles properly over the castle as late November kicks into gear, and Nancy finds herself caught up in life at Hogwarts in a way she never had been quite before. Last year, everything had been about solving the mystery and then saving Will, and she hadn’t realised the rhythms that she had settled into until she found herself in them once more now that normal life has resumed. Before, she had only really had Cassie and Barb, too caught up in her own head to appreciate the fact that she had Robin on her side as well. Now, between Eddie and Robin and Cassie sticking around, classes and Quidditch as well as her extra sessions with Brenner, Nancy barely has time to think. People in the castle haven’t forgotten what happened before, haven’t forgotten the fact that she’s rumoured to have killed students, but it rolls off of her in a way that it never had previously. Nancy knows who’s on her side, who’s important. She can’t help but find that it makes her happier, finally established in the belief that the rug isn’t going to be completely pulled out from under her at this point, that she can have the things that she wants and doesn’t have to torture herself for them.

Still, even though it isn’t the safety measure that it had been before with Barb missing, Nancy thinks she appreciates having Quidditch even more than she did last year. There’s nothing like the weightless feeling of hovering in the sky, of knowing what her job is as a Seeker more clearly than she knows anything else, of feeling like she can finally straighten her spine and her shoulders and wear her green uniform proudly. Stephen graduated last year, but the Quidditch team is Slytherin’s pride and joy, and they work on the same values as they always have. The other teams call them cheats and snakes, but they aren’t. Ambition is ruthless, whatever way someone slices it, and whoever ends up on the wrong side of it usually ends up feeling hard done by, but Slytherin doesn’t cut fairness and sportsmanship out of the game in ambition’s stead.

Declan, the Keeper, is their new captain this year, and he’s quieter than Stephen but doesn’t let anyone stray from putting the team first. It’s odd — Tommy and Carol still send her cold looks, still sneer and scoff and snark every time that she passes them, but nothing is more important on the pitch than the game. Not even their apparent biological need to be assholes. Jonathan doesn’t turn up to her first game that way he did the year before. Nancy tries not to let it sting as she ties her hair back, a section at the back of her neck slightly too short and hanging like an odd curtain.

She doesn’t need him. All she needs is right here, in herself.

The wood of her broom is familiar underneath her fingertips, the fabric of her Quidditch gloves soft and worn against her palms. It feels like coming home, in an odd way, but Nancy can’t say that she minds it. This is the one place in Hogwarts she knows she belongs, more than anywhere else. It doesn’t matter how good she is in class, or how hard she studies. This — and being undefeatable in a bloody duel — is what makes her.

Tommy glowers at her from behind Declan but doesn’t move to do anything more. Still, Nancy is sure that he, and Carol, envisage her face on every Bludger that they tattoo with their bats. As the team strides out onto the Quidditch pitch, brooms in hand and cheers from the stands filling the air, a strange tightness settles in her stomach as she sees the tendrils of darkness tracing their way through the air after the lurking dementors, the creatures looming over the pitch.

With Gryffindor and Ravenclaw having played each other a few weeks ago, Slytherin is facing Hufflepuff for their first game of the year, Steve suiting up in his position as Chaser. Last year, she had barely made eye contact with him, grateful that their respective roles on their teams meant she was able to avoid him. Now, though, she at least manages to meet his gaze. Steve’s features don’t twitch, but the emotion is plain in his eyes as she sends him a soft smile. He nods back to her, before he set his jaw and focuses back on the Quaffle in Hopper’s hands as he raises the whistle to his lips and begins the game officially.

A pleasantly blank fog settles over Nancy as she fades into the familiar movements of soaring through the sky, scouring the pitch for any hint of the glimmer of gold that comes with the Snitch. The game progresses fairly slowly, with the Slytherin chasers far out-shooting their counterparts, but the Hufflepuff Beaters have their sights set on Nancy. Their apparent plan is to focus on catching the Snitch, no matter how many goals Slytherin score in the meanwhile, banking on their Keeper being able to keep the score within 150 points of difference. It’s a pretty ugly strategy, and one that banks on Nancy being cowed by violence and falling to pressure.

She manages to shake off her rival Seeker, not quite able to resist sending a smug smile over her shoulder as she dekes around her, twirling in a tight spiral to mix her up. Nancy’s pretty sure that the other girl hasn’t even spotted the golden flash of wings fluttering by the Ravenclaw stand, but Nancy’s too far ahead now for the girl to catch her anyway. It feels satisfying and familiar to have her fingers close around the cool metal, something in her chest snapping into place like magnets.

Steve grimaces at her as he flies past, but it's more playful than she would have expected, accompanied by a proud glimmer in his eyes. Nancy grins back, shrugging shamelessly as her team crowds around her, Grace clapping her firmly on the back. “Fucking hell, Wheeler, good work!”

Nancy can hardly hear the words over the rush of blood in her ears, satisfaction burning in her gut. Forty minutes later, she’s stood in the middle of the common room, still in the midst of a crowd, a goblet of Firewhisky shoved into her hands. Declan’s hand thumps her shoulder in congratulations as she sips from her drink, coughing past the burning in her throat. “You’re so clutch, man,” Grace complains, chugging her own Firewhisky and wiping at her mouth. She frowns at Nancy, the kind of expression that would usually make her guard fly up, but now she can read as more playful and teasing than anything else. “It fucking sucks.”

Cassie, stuck to Nancy’s shoulder closer than usual, chuckles, nudging her roughly. “Why’s that?”

“I mean, we can score all the goals in the world, and Wheeler here will still get all the glory,” Grace huffs, and Nancy laughs, surprising herself.

“Sounds like you have an issue with the rulebook, not me,” she challenges, shrugging her shoulders. Grace laughs, tipping her head in acknowledgement, before taking another drink.

“Still. Next time, let us rack up a couple more, yeah?”

Cassie pretends to squint at Grace appraisingly. “Maybe you should just get better at scoring, Liu.”

“Piss off, Chan, you don’t even play Quidditch, so shut the fuck up.”

The dungeons have never felt warmer, a fire blazing in the hearth and green banners haphazardly strung up across the walls in celebration of the win. For once, Nancy isn’t faced with wary and cool looks, instead greeted with cheers and congratulations. Winter is chilly outside, snow dusting the stone of the castle, but life is good here in the dungeons, with Cassie’s arm slung over her shoulders in a rare show of camaraderie and friendship, Grace’s laugh echoing in her ears, and taunting songs about Hufflepuff’s Quidditch failures bouncing off the walls. She can’t stop the feeling from rising in her that this is what belonging is supposed to feel like. It’s the same strange pulling in her ribs that she gets when she’s with her friends, and it’s odd to feel that in a house where she still doesn’t fit. But, for now, Nancy just grins to herself, a warm burning in her chest, somewhere near where she thinks her heart might be. Nothing outside of this moment seems to matter, at least for now.

————

Tension with Jonathan can only last for so long before it pops — after a couple of failed attempts at getting him to study with her like they used to, even Nancy can take a hint.

Clearly he sees it on her face as well, the finality with which it falls this time, the way that something doesn’t fit together the way that it used to. Jonathan was never a knight in shining armour, or the embodiment of all her hopes and desires, but he was a warm smile and welcoming embrace even with everything so contrary about Nancy. She’s a little reticent to just give up on it, but she’s not going to beg for his scraps.

This time, unlike all the others, when she stalks away, Jonathan follows her. He catches her shoulder, anger and frustration sparking in his expression, but she beats him to it.

“Merlin, Jonathan, if you’ve got issues with me just tell me!” Nancy snaps before she can stop herself. For a second, he looks like he might protest, might volley some vitriol back, but then she watches something in the boy before her shutter closed, like a shadow passing over his face. Then it's gone and all that’s left is the guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he says, somewhat helplessly as he shrugs. He looks a little lost, shrinking in on himself as he struggles to maintain eye contact with her.

Nancy tries to resist the urge to scoff. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with that? You just stop talking to me for no reason? I thought we were friends?”

Jonathan winces. “We were! We are, I mean. I just-“

“‘Just’ what, Jonathan?”

“I was worried about Will,” he finally manages, raising his chin defensively. He nods to himself, resolute. “And then down in that dungeon, I watched that thing in Will try to kill you and it was all my fault!”

The roaring anger ripcurling in her chest calms and settles, a wave of confusion washing over her instead. “What are you talking about?”

“I should have noticed,” Jonathan confesses in a rush, running a hand through his hair in a harried motion. “I should have seen what was going on with Will and done something to help him but instead I was caught up in other stuff.” His face colours in embarrassment in time with Nancy’s, and they both know what he was caught up in.

“He could have died and it would have been because I wasn’t there. And then he almost killed you and how the hell was I supposed to look you in the eye after that?”

Nancy softens. “Jonathan, I’m fine. I swear.” She’s not sure who she’s trying to convince — her or him. She still gets the nightmares, the horrific memories of that scraping voice or the bottomless dread pit in her stomach. Nancy feels like Jonathan should be able to see it on her face. His expression crumples either way.

“No, Nance, you didn’t see the look on your face after he tried to kill you. You didn’t see the way that you dangled in the air, and you fell like something had cut your strings or something. Nancy, it was awful.” Jonathan manages to choke out, his voice thick. “So, yeah, I avoided you because it was my brother that did that to you and it was our fault that it happened in the first place and I didn’t know what to do.”

There’s so much that Nancy wants to say to that — Jonathan doesn’t have the right to presume how she might feel about what happened in the Chamber, even if it was his brother who was on the other side of it. Really, Nancy has no right to feel shaken by it at all. After all, she’s alive, and four other kids aren’t. She should just focus on being thankful for that, Nancy reminds herself, grated once again by the lingering tension that grips her every time she thinks about it.

He’s right that it’s Nancy’s fault though.

Maybe not both of theirs — Jonathan might be enough of a romantic to imagine that they were both caught up in their feelings to the point of ignoring everything that was happening, but that’s not the truth for Nancy, at least. She likes him, but it’s not like the world lives and dies on the stretch of his smile. Still, he’s her friend. She hadn’t really thought about how much it hurt to be ignored by him this year — even with changing overtones to their relationship last year, the two of them had known each other for long enough that Jonathan feels like an important part of her life either way.

Nancy swallows something that tastes a lot like grief, bitter and twisting in her chest, aching like something in her had been hollowed out by the empty way that he looks at her. Where there had been affection, there is now just guilt and perhaps the lingering embers of anger and blame.

As always, it’s easier to duck and hide behind her walls, and as Nancy feels herself bristle before she even thinks about it, she remembers that she’s always going to be a coward.

“Well, Jonathan,” she grinds out, tone icy cold in a way it hasn’t needed to be in a long time. Her spine snaps straight, ironed out and perfect. “I’m glad to hear you have me and everything else so figured out.”

Frustration flitters across Jonathan’s expression and he lets out an exasperated sigh, but bites back whatever words rise in him.

Resentment, dark and acidic, wells in her, and she can’t help the way that her lip curls. “I’ll be sure to come to you the next time that I need my feelings laid out for me to understand. You know, since you get it so much.”

Something vaguely shattered looking crosses Jonathan’s face. She knows that the words are barbed and rancorous, sharp in a way that Nancy had supposedly rounded out of herself. Still, like an animal boxed into a corner, she lashes out and can’t help the foul-tasting regret that blooms in her chest.

It’s easier to shoulder past him than watch the emotions play out across his features, and Nancy ducks her head as best she can, pretending that it doesn’t feel as shattering as it does to walk away from something that could have been a form of almost-happiness that she might have been able to keep.

A few days later, Robin bumps into her in the hall, perhaps more purposefully than Nancy is supposed to believe based on the carefully concealed nerves that flitter across her face like proverbial butterflies in a stomach. Still, her grin is charming, wide and gleaming, perhaps because of it’s self-conscious nature rather than despite it.

“Nance,” she greets, voice warm and raspy in that particular Robin way that always makes Nancy smile in return, regardless of whether or not she wants to. “Fancy another Hogsmeade trip soon? I’ve got to start making a dent in that Butterbeer debt.”

The taller girl leans towards her a little bit, something expectant and almost trusting in her expression — like Robin really believes that everything could be this easy. Nancy can’t help but tilt forward too, leaning into Robin just slightly, her grin just a twitch of muscles away. But then an image of Jonathan’s expression, guilty and accusing simultaneously, appears unbidden in her mind and something stutters to a stop. Whatever Nancy thinks she’s playing at is just that — a falsehood, a game. Something that Nancy might be able to tell herself she has, but is ultimately just as out of reach as she always was. It doesn’t matter that Robin’s smile is charming and sweet, endearing in a way that she can’t quite put a finger on. Not when it’s bound to slip away, just like everything else.

Nancy doesn’t get what she wants. Whatever is wrong with her, that puts her just enough out of sync with the rest of the world to matter, means that she never will.

The smile slips from Robin’s face as Nancy’s expression shutters closed and she leans away. “Probably not. Really busy right now.”

The dismay is clear to see amidst confusion and hurt. Guilt tastes acidic on her tongue, like the apology is literally burning her in its desperation to get out, to make Robin hear and understand. Nancy swallows it back, shoving the emotion down just like always.

“Yeah,” Robin stutters, looking suddenly unsure and off-kilter, as though it had never even occurred to her that Nancy might not say yes, “no worries. I get it.”

All that she can offer her is a weak smile, one that anyone, especially Robin, would be able to see through in a second.

“Sorry, Buckley.”

She doesn’t knock her shoulder into quite so firmly as she had with Jonathan, but it feels eerily similar all the same, and Nancy pretends that she doesn’t hear the soft wounded sound that Robin makes, if only because she’s not sure she’d be able to hold back the tears any other way.

Nancy can’t help but look over her shoulder when she’s sure that Robin won’t be watching anymore, and regrets it when she sees the way that the redhead friend of the other girl’s, Vickie, has her fingers intertwined with Robin’s, her face soft and reassuring in a way that would never fit on Nancy’s features.

As she turns back and walks away, the tears are a little harder to hold back.

Chapter Text

For a while, the guilt and shame burn Nancy’s insides enough for her to draw back into herself for a while. Days flit by, Nancy caught adrift in the passage of it with her head filled with the feeling of floating. Driftlessness. Maybe, if Nancy is such a coward and a snake to her core, she can only be good in conjunction with her friends. Maybe it’s Robin’s loyalty and Eddie’s kindness and Jonathan’s shrewdness and Cassie’s integrity that saves Nancy from herself. Maybe Nancy is dragging them all down whilst they’re the only thing keeping her aloft.

What an awful fate for them, to be tied to Nancy Wheeler.

So, she retreats. Dresses it up in notions of dignified and noble self-exclusion, but something like guilt twists in her stomach and Nancy knows it’s cowardice. The same thing she’s been running from her whole life.

Because that’s what it is. It’s a coward’s move — to run instead of letting yourself be hurt and face the fact that you’ll never be enough with your chin up — and that just somehow makes it worse. Nancy keeps trying to find peace and justification in her being placed in Slytherin; it’s as if she needs to unearth some kind of long-hidden Gryffindor trait inside herself that lets her persevere through the injustice of having her robes trimmed in green, not red. All it really does is reinforce the fact that the Hat was right: when Nancy is backed into a corner, she as low-bellied as the worst of them.

It stings more now that Nancy is more settled at Hogwarts. Maybe it’s because it takes her by surprise, with all the things that she thought she had wrested from the mouth of her own unhappiness, or maybe it’s the fact that the more and more time passes, the easier being in Slytherin really becomes — in every way except her own peace of mind, perhaps. Regardless of what she’s ever believed to the contrary, or maybe just wanted to believe, Nancy is quite firmly a Slytherin.

Perhaps time to just accept it.

It stings too, to force a mask on in the face of a smile from one of the others. They stop coming, after a few days.

How quickly everything she thought she had slips from her fingers as soon as she lets it.

Whatever vows she makes, though, the universe seems to always find a way to draw her back in – this comes in the form of Billy leaning into Tommy’s ear, with him being one of his cronies, and whispering a slur that Nancy only catches the tail end of, his eyes pointed Eddie’s way the whole time. It’s enough for Nancy’s blood to turn to pure fire in her veins, and it’s like acid burning through her by the time that her fingers have curled around the wood of her wand.

It's under Billy’s jaw in a split second.

“Say that shit again and you’ll pay for it,” Nancy whispers, dangerous and threatening, in Billy’s ear. She sees the way he tenses, heart rate jumping as the vein in his neck pumps. He’s surprised and caught off-guard, even if the way that he sneers covers it up.

Malice glitters in his eyes and in his smile as he whips his elbow back into Nancy’s sternum, grinning when she chokes on the breath that’s knocked out of her.

“What was that?” He snarls, delighting in the pain. “How the fuck are you going to make me pay, Wheeler? Fucking joke of a Slytherin.”

Tommy grins, his mouth wide and slashing across his face. Clearly, he’s ecstatic to see Nancy get some comeuppance. It makes her want to tear his face apart — she never wants to see him grin like that at her again.

The Body-Binding spell that trips off her tongue is instinct, even with no oxygen in her lungs. Billy is the target; despite how much she wants to hit Tommy with hex after hex after hex. All his muscles locking up doesn't wipe away Billy’s greasy smile, though; it just fixes it in place, instead.

She stumbles back, something in her chest knocked loose, and walks away with her hands balled in her pockets so that no one sees the way that they shake.

Later, Eddie pulls her aside in the hall, a strange expression fixed to his face.

“What’s going on, Wheeler?”

His voice is hushed, but insistent. Streams of students flow around them, like they’re meaningless stones in a river — never enough to disrupt the current. Still, Nancy feels on edge and observed enough to draw up, her spine ironed straight and unyielding as she locks some soft part of her away that usually rears up at the sight of Eddie.

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, you’ve been off for days. We’ve been letting it go, but whatever happened this morning seemed serious.”

Kindness still gleams in his face. Nancy doesn’t quite understand it, and draws a harsh breath. The words that still haunt her from that farce of a Chamber Vecna had her trapped in echo in her head now. It’ll always all be Nancy’s fault. It’s a fool’s endeavour to pretend any different. Eddie’s kindness would be better given to someone else.

“It’s fine. Just Billy being Billy, I guess.”

Eddie frowns. “I mean, you’re the one who jumped out of their seat to go threaten him. What did he say?”

The guilt climbs up her throat, enough for her to want to retch on it. She can’t quite look Eddie in the eyes as she speaks. “Nothing. I swear.”

Some cold kind of realisation clearly passes over it, with there being just a flicker of pain and bitterness in the downward tick of the corner of his mouth. “Right.”

“Eddie-“

“No, Nance, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s the same shit he’s been saying for a while. It’s not like it’s new.”

That just makes her insides turn even more sour. The thin veneer of calm in Eddie’s smile doesn’t help either, not when the anger and embarrassment and self-hatred bleed through so easily.

“Eddie. That doesn’t make it right.”

He gives a careless little shrug. “Does that matter?”

Nancy’s protests taste bitter as they die in the back of her throat. Of course, it matters — of course Eddie and Steve matter, but that’s not what Eddie needs to hear. They both know the truth, and Nancy trying to comfort him doesn’t do anything to actually help him. Besides, this is hardly the place to have an emotional heart-to-heart; they’re surrounded by other students.

“I’ll sort it,” she says instead, flushing when Eddie gives her an incredulous look.

“Don’t fucking kill him, Wheeler.”

She snorts, despite herself, and really wishes that the joy on Eddie’s face was harder to spot. It aches, in that hollowed-out, bottomless-pit kind of way that her chest sometimes does; it’s like the threads of loneliness have weaved into her so tightly that they’re part of the very fibre of her being, or like they’ve wound round and round her heart, squeezing tighter and tighter with each compress and pump of the organ until it one day stops.

Every glimpse of anything more just rubs salt in the wound.

Eddie’s face falls when her smile falters, and Nancy’s mouth flattens into one smooth line. “I won’t. But you know. I’ll talk to him.”

“Just don’t scare him too much,” Eddie retorts, but he looks doubtful even of his own seriousness. Nancy manages a grimace rather than a smile and something in Eddie’s face falls even more. She has to grit her teeth as she does it, but she manages to walk away, slipping back into the stream of students easily.

Still, she keeps an eye on Billy, as best she can, for a while. It’s a distraction from everything else, at least, to think about aiming tripping jinxes and silencing spells at him whenever she hears him talking shit, even if it only makes him more antagonistic half the time. Billy is the kind of bully that gets off of being cruel in a way that Tommy and Carol don’t quite — they like it, sure, but there’s an edge of malice to Billy that’s an entirely different level.

It makes the whole thing a little more complicated and means that Nancy usually ends up with some boils or stinging patches of her own for her trouble.

But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth it.

Once she starts paying attention to it, though, it is like Nancy can’t stop noticing the causal and cruel homophobia that trips from Billy’s lips as easily as anything else. It knocks her off balance in a way that she marks down to her friendship with Eddie, though that never feels quite enough to capture the way that her stomach churns with nausea and anxiety, a cold sweat breaking across the back of her neck. But Nancy’s learned by now that it’s better to be on guard than caught vulnerable, so at least she isn’t surprised when she finds Billy deploying one of his usual tactics when she’s walking back from Quidditch practice on a Saturday evening.

He's cornered Steve in the corner of the hallway, Steve glaring back at him with his arms crossed. Billy likes it when they fight back — maybe that’s why he enjoys picking on Steve and firing back at Nancy. He like crushing something important in people, and he likes when they make him work for it.

“Go on, Stevie, run off to your boyfriend,” she overhears Billy taunt, leering.

It wouldn’t take a mind reader to see the fear that floods through Steve, the flinch that seems to reverberate through his whole person. She’s glad that the rest of the Quidditch team left before she did — no one should get to see this. It’s quickly replaced with anger, though, white hot rage the likes of which she hasn’t seen from Steve ever before. He’s a perpetually good-humoured kind of guy, and it’s strange to see him pushed so close to the brink of snapping.

All in all, Nancy is surprised Steve doesn’t pull his wand.

She’s more surprised to find that she does.

It’s brandished before her before she can even blink, held steady and unflinchingly in Billy’s direction as she stares him down, as she whips it out of her pocket and settles into a familiar duelling stance before the other boy can react. When he does, though, it with a mocking smirk that creeps through his features, curling slowly at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are like flint, sparking with malice.

“Sorry, Stevie, looks like you’re not just a faggot, but actually such a pussy that you need some bitch to protect you.”

Nancy doesn’t even flinch. “Put your wand where your mouth is, Hargrove.”

“What?”

She shrugs, lazy and entitled and careless. All the things that Billy is, but better. “You talk a big game, but I reckon the only pussy here is you.”

“Fuck off,” Billy sneers. “I’m not the one who has a girl fighting my battles.”

Nancy shakes her head slowly. That’s not what she’s doing, not like what Steve did all those years ago. “Hey, Steve can fight you all he likes. I just don’t like people who can’t back up their big mouths. I want to shove your wand up your own ass just as much as he does.”

Billy scowls, vicious and violent. “I don’t have anything to prove to you, Wheeler.”

She hums, pretending to consider the issue, cocking her head. Eventually, Nancy shrugs, shoving her wand back into her robe’s pocket and turning to Steve. “I don’t know, Harrington. You think he’s a pussy?”

Steve frowns down at her, the confusion on his face a clear message that he doesn't understand what she’s trying to do here. To be fair, Nancy doesn’t exactly have a plan. All she knows is that the only thing that matters to people like Billy is their pride. That’s what lets them bully and terrorise and torture. That’s what they have to strip him of.

“Come on, Steve. Be honest,” she urges, nudging him. “Do you think Billy here is a pussy?”

Steve is saved from opening his mouth by the arrival of Carroll, the professor almost materialising from the shadows. “What’s going on here?”

“Philosophical discussion,” she shoots back at him before either of the boys have a chance to say anything. It’s clear what’s happening here, even to the most novice of teachers, but Nancy doesn’t really care what Carroll thinks of them, not right now. She’s got bigger things to worry about. It’s odd, considering the fact that she’s so much smaller than him, but she feels the need to square her shoulders and straighten up as she stands in front of Steve. Billy or Carroll, she’s not letting shit happen here.

“Right,” Carroll says smoothly, raising a thin eyebrow. When he’s taking class, the man looks like he’s completely out of his depth, sweat glistening on his brow and unable to make eye contact, but now he seems cool and composed in a way that takes Nancy by surprise. “Would Billy agree?”

“Not sure about that, sir,” he says, voice ice cold and mocking, slithery smile pulling at his lips.

Carroll hums as he surveys the scene, before looking pointedly down the hall. “Well, it doesn’t really matter either way — it’s past curfew for all of you. Wheeler, Harrington, please report to Professor Antonov tomorrow evening.”

“Understood, sir,” Nancy agrees, giving him a smile that’s more like a baring of her teeth than anything. Steve looks at her nervously, panic flickering across his features, but he follows her lead and stands next to her faithfully. Something about it feels like a puzzle piece finally falling into place — she never wanted everything with Steve to fall apart. This is better.

“Wheeler,” Carroll bites out, and it’s as curt a dismissal as he can really get away with. Nancy notes the distaste in his gaze as it flickers over her, before she turns on her heel and starts striding away, footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Steve scrambles after her. She turns her head, looking over her shoulder one last time, and catches sight of Carroll’s arm around Billy’s shoulders, the boy’s head ducked as the professor speaks to him, voice low.

“What the fuck was that?” He hisses, barely a question and more of a panicked rush of words.

Nancy bites her lip. “I don’t know. There’s definitely something up with him.”

“I always knew that teachers were evil,” Steve professes, eyes wide, and Nancy can’t hold back her laugh, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I guess I can’t argue against that.”

The two of them grin until Nancy makes eye contact with him, her stomach lurching like she’s about to fall off of her Quidditch broom. The smile and laugh falters, stuttering to a stop. Steve watches it happen, his own amusement visibly slipping from his face as he sighs.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” he says eventually, though there’s a tightness to his features. Steve is too nice a guy to tell her when he’s pissed off, and Nancy feels a sudden twinge of regret. Maybe she had overstepped and made him uncomfortable, and she feels a desperate need to scramble back some kind of standing with him.

“You didn’t need it,” Nancy says, all too aware of how furious it had made her when Steve hadn’t seen her as capable of looking after herself. That’s the last thing she wants to imply.

Steve cocks his head. “No, but you embarrassed him much more than I ever would have.”

“Because you’re too nice,” she accuses gently, Steve grinning as he shrugs self-consciously.

“As long as he doesn’t give you shit in house.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He stops them, the silence settling over them after the ceasing of the echoing of their shoes on the stone feeling like something drastic and dramatic. “Nancy,” he says, face serious and drawn. “I mean it.”

The protest that she’ll be fine gets stuck in her throat. “Steve,” she eventually says. It’s more of a breath than anything else, far too soft. Far too vulnerable, like a confession and a concession all in one. His eyes melt, deep and bottomless and endlessly forgiving, to the point that it makes her feel a little nauseous. For a moment, she is reminded of all the reasons why she and Steve had their little thing: despite the fact that Steve never really understood who she was, never really wanted the real her, he also never saw her the way that everyone else does. She wasn’t Nancy Wheeler to him, even if she wasn’t Nancy either.

She swallows hard, suddenly regretting the fact that she ever had to let him go. Even if it was right, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss him.

He gives her a soft smile, something that looks like understanding blooming in his expression, and a pit opens up in Nancy’s stomach. “Come on, Nance. Don’t worry about it.”

Guilt clogs her throat and she pastes a nervous smile across her features. “What?”

“We’re good, Nancy. I swear.” Steve shrugs, bashful and a little awkward. “I know you felt weird about it all — clearly — but I was never that upset about it.”

She can’t help but feel a little foolish, but that’s not why something unnameable swoops in her chest, her stomach weightless in a vaguely sickening way. Because, at the end of the day, the truth of it is that it’s easier to believe that Steve holds it against her. It’s easier to hide from him and from everyone that she might care about and convince herself that it’s all hopeless because it’s the hope that kills you, Nancy thinks. It’s easier and nicer and neater to burn all the bridges and isolate herself and live satisfied, if lonely, in the knowledge that no one can hurt her but herself. Still, Nancy, as always, finds herself foolishly reaching out before she can stop herself. “Really?” She chokes out, coughing to cover up how strained her voice is.

He laughs, sweet and knowing, like she’s plain as a book to him, but he doesn’t point it out to her. “Yeah. Broken hearts heal, Nancy. Besides, things change.”

A smile, wide and smug, finally grows on Nancy’s face now, big enough that she can feel the stretch at the corners of her mouth. “What, did Billy have a point about you and Eddie?”

Steve flushes, and it’s enough of an answer for her as Nancy crows victoriously, glad to have something to think about other than the spine-tingling, nail-biting fear that still swirls in her stomach. “Hah, you like him!”

“Shut up!” Steve hisses, blushing bright red but laughing as he shoves at Nancy.

For a moment, something in Nancy feels infinite as the pieces of herself all settle, a long-lasting discomfort dispelled just by the grin on Steve’s face. She never wanted to hurt him, but he has a point. Things change, people heal, life moves on. It’s been a long time, but the smile he gives her is easy and free, and Nancy just can’t help but return it.

For a moment, it’s like nothing was ever wrong with Nancy in the first place.

————

The next evening, Nancy is feeling distinctly less full of hope and light and joy. Instead, she is shivering from the bone chilling cold that seems to settle over the castle in the winter months and fighting off the insistent dread pooling in her stomach. She tightens her cloak around her as she waits at the door of the castle, some of the other students condemned to detention huddled together a couple of feet away, casting confused look in her direction every so often. This is uncharted territory for her, and she can’t help but feel a little off-balance, so it’s a relief when Steve finally joins the group, slouching along with his cloak pulled tight around him and his scarf wrapped around his neck and lower half of his face.

“It’s too fucking cold, Wheeler,” he complains under his breath as he leans into her, frowning to himself. Nancy huffs a laugh and, as if to prove his point, her breath clouds in front of her like mist in the ice-cold air. Steve nods in acknowledgement to Antonov, the gameskeeper who is apparently leading their detention and the man sighs and finally sets off across the grounds, the group of them trailing after him half heartedly. It’s already pitch black and none of them seem to want to be here.

Nancy sticks with Steve, knowing that he’s been through detention enough times before to have it under control. It’s different being next to Steve than it was before, and different from hanging with Robin and Eddie this year. Nancy doesn’t really know how to articulate it, or even why she feels it, but it’s easy to tuck herself close to his side, leaning into his space as thought they’ve been inseparable all these years. “So, what the fuck are we doing?”

He shrugs. “Detentions are usually just writing lines in some dusty classroom, but sometimes Antonov needs help, so, here we are.”

“Help with what?”

“Probably just helping him harvest something. It’s usually not that big of a deal,” Steve surmises, stifling a yawn. He’s apparently not interested in anything beyond just getting through the evening, already looking bleary-eyed.

Nancy grimaces. Sounds like she’s in for a very boring evening, then, of apparent manual labour. “Great.”

Steve sends her a sympathetic look as he cuts his gaze in her direction. “Could be worse. We could be writing lines in some dusty corner of the castle, like I said.”

“Shut up back there,” Antonov grumbles, pulling his own cloak tighter and grimacing. He doesn’t look like he wants to be there anymore than she does, though he never seems particularly enthusiastic with his perpetually grumpy demeanour and vague Russian accent adding a spin of disdain to everything he says.

They come to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and something in Nancy’s stomach sinks like a stone as the branches seem to give way to inky, impenetrable blackness. Antonov casts a grim look at the group of them, huddled at the tree line. Something about his expression doesn’t really give her much confidence.

“For your detention, you’re supposed to help me harvest some of the wilder plants that grow in the forest for your Herbology classes. Keep your Lumos up and stay in groups. Don’t wander off.”

“Wow, love the guidance,” Steve grumbles as Antonov turns around and sets out, seemingly happy to just assume that the lot of them will follow after him. There’s more than just them in the group — a whole gaggle of second years look like they’re trying to keep their terror off their faces as they scramble to keep up with Antonov. “Literally zero idea what these plants are supposed to be.”

“Fucking Billy,” she pitches in, because, if anyone’s asking her, this is all his fault, and she can’t help but notice that he’s not in attendance. “Isn’t he supposed to be in detention too?”

Steve cranes his neck as he checks the group, shaking his head in confusion as he turns back to Nancy. They’re treading carefully through the start of the forest, and already the dappled moonlight seems dim and insufficient. The glowing end of his wand casts a ghostly shadow across his face in the darkness.

“Guess Carroll let him off.”

She can’t help but frown to herself. Nancy hadn’t known that the two of them were that close. Billy’s older than her — it’s not like she shares classes with the guy — and Carroll had always struck her as a bit odd. Strange for any teacher to give out detentions so blatantly unfairly, though. Like he can hear the cogs turning in her head, Steve nudges her with a knowing look.

“Let it go, Nance. Stop trying to solve every mystery in the universe and focus on making sure that we don’t get eaten tonight, yeah?” He jokes, letting out half of a chuckle as he grins at her, and Nancy can’t stop the way that she smiles back, self-conscious and embarrassed at being caught in her own head.

“Fine. But it’s you who should watch where you’re going: you’ve already stepped in dog shit.”

Steve starts before looking down at his shoe. “Merlin, what the fuck?” He grumbles to himself as he sees that, sure enough, his nice polished shoes are now covered in Antonov’s dog’s poo. Nancy laughs at him as he tries to wipe it off in the grass, not bothering to hide her amusement even when Steve whips round to glare at her.

“You’re the fucking worst, Wheeler.”

“I know,” she grins. “Now, let’s go fine some vague, undetermined wild plants.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Merlin, this is so stupid,” he complains as he straightens, almost pouting. It’s childish and immature, but somehow very fitting for the situation. “And now Antonov and the others are, like, way ahead.”

Sure enough, when Nancy turns around, the group has practically disappeared, only traceable through the noise they’re making, indistinguishable chatter and conversation drifting back to them.

When she looks back at Steve, an expression of distinct mischief has taken over his face. “What if we just left?”

“Steve.”

“Come on, Nancy, you can’t tell me that your bed isn’t calling to you.”

“No, Steve.”

He pouts even harder, eyes wide and pleading. “Imagine being warm and dry and wrapped up in your dorm, Wheeler. Don’t tell me that you don’t want that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Obviously, but we are already in detention. I doubt skipping out on it will end well.”

Steve sighs, heavy and tired, but it’s half-hearted as well — like he never really thought that he would succeed anyway. “Alright, fine. Spoilsport.”

“Yep,” she nods, popping the ‘p’ smugly. “Saving your ass with it too.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, pulling at his cloak as they start after the others. They can’t see them anymore and the sound is getting fainter and fainter until, with a rising panic, Nancy realises that she can’t hear them anymore and has no idea which direction they’ve gone. The forest, with its darkness and seemingly inherent dread, adds a threatening spin to the fact that, suddenly, Nancy feels very alone.

“Any idea which way?” She manages, doing her best to keep the fear out of her voice.

Steve’s head snaps up and he looks around, panic spreading through his own expression.

“Shit.”

“Agreed,” Nancy jokes, the way that her voice shakes making it fall more than a little flat. They’re deep enough in the forest that the castle isn’t visible through the trees anymore, even though Nancy logically knows that the edge must be somewhat near. The mess of branches seems to obscure any and all light, until Nancy isn’t even sure if she can really see a path anymore.

Unconsciously, she reaches out and clings to Steve’s arm a little bit, her other hand going straight to her pocket, the feel of her wand under her fingers immediately calming her down.

“I’m beginning to think that you had a point about getting out of here,” she mutters, and Steve scoffs lightly under his breath.

“Little late, Wheeler.”

She pulls her wand out, trying not to roll her eyes at his tone. They’re wizards with wands and this is just a forest. They’re fine, she reminds herself as she adds her Lumos to the light Steve’s is producing.With the orange glow filling the clearing, things already feel a little brighter.

“Alright. If we turn that way, I’m sure that’s where we came from,” Nancy declares, spinning and pointing. Steve squints into the darkness, a doubtful frown pulling at his mouth.

“I don’t think so.”

“What are you talking about? That’s definitely right,” Nancy presses, if only to tamp down on the twinge of uncertainty in her chest. She’s pretty sure that’s where they came from, yes, but would she bet her life on it?

“No, we definitely came from over there,” Steve says, gesturing in a different direction.

Nancy balks, shaking her head. “No way.”

“Well, we have to pick one of them,” Steve says, exasperation creeping into the words as he places his hands on his hips, looking haughty and frustrated. “We can’t just stand here and argue all night.”

“We aren’t splitting up,” she volleys back, matching his stance as she glares up at him.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“So, let’s go this way.” She starts walking in the original direction she pointed before Steve can protest, though she hears him mumble under his breath as he scrambles to catch up. “What was that, Harrington?”

“I said that I miss when we didn’t talk. At least I wasn’t being bossed about.”

She glares at him out of the corner of her eye, mean mugging him as best she can despite the fact that there had been no heat behind his words. Steve rolls his eyes again as he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Merlin, Wheeler, put the claws away and lets just get out of here.”

“Don’t tempt me into leaving you behind.”

“As if you would,” Steve snorts, though he stays pretty tight to her side, like there’s maybe something about the forest that makes him not want to test that thesis.

Despite the force of both of their Lumos spells, Nancy can only make out about ten feet in front of them, but she swears that its getting less dense, like they’re coming to the edge. “I think we’re almost there,” she says, surging forward a little until, sure enough, she sees uninterrupted moonlight. Before Nancy can make it to the break in the trees, though, she feels a chill wash over her.

A horribly familiar chill.

Numbing fear spreads through her, like being dropped into the depths of the most freezing ocean imaginable. Any and all thought seems to stop as every part of her becomes consumed by dread. She feels it in her bones, in every inch of her body, in her very soul. Hopelessness takes over her, dragging her down like a weight as the shadows around her seemed to grow longer, spreading across the clearing and covering everything.

Steve is nowhere to be found, with just the darkness of the forest surrounding her, as a Dementor seems just simply materialise. Pitch black ragged robes stream through the air as if caught in a wind as the moment seems to freeze, stretching out for eternity, and the Dementor hangs above her. If the feeling on the train had been horrible, an all-consuming kind of fear that takes root in the depths of her, this is a thousand times worse. The Dementor hadn’t even been near her on the train, whereas now it's like there is ice spreading through her veins, her blood freezing even as it pumps. Deathly cold tendrils of an empty kind of despair spread through and take root in her, twirling around her spine and every nerve in her body. On the train, it had felt false and imposed upon her, whereas now it’s so overwhelming and all-consuming that Nancy doesn’t even have the space in her brain to process what’s happening.

All she’s aware of is the fear that roots her in place and the way that the Dementor is getting steadily closer.

It feels like some integral warmth within her is extinguished, sucked easily out of her into the dark gaping maw that just seems to be the Dementor’s whole being — there’s no face or mouth to be seen, just impenetrable darkness wrapped in a shadowy cloak, and it seems to grow even blacker as Nancy’s knees go weak and she feels it leech her energy and happiness and very soul.

She doesn’t hear Steve cry out, but she does feel him tackle into her, the magnetism between her and the Dementor breaking as he knocks her to the ground.

He doesn’t give Nancy even a breath to recover, instead grasping her hand as tightly as he can and pulling her after him as he takes off through the trees. Nancy isn’t even able to make her legs move for a couple of beats, instead being practically dragged as Steve stumbles for the tree line, but eventually she manages to get her feet under her and then they are making for the castle.

“Nancy, are you okay?” Steve presses as he bundles her through the doors. The Dementor had apparently left them run across the lawn without giving chase, but that doesn’t stop Nancy’s heart from hammering in her chest. It seems uncommonly loud, almost deafening in her ears, like Nancy is surprised to have one beating there at all. Steve’s gaze searches over her, intense and piercing, and she doesn’t have to try very hard to see the worry on his face as his hands latch onto her shoulders, fingers digging into her skin. “Nancy?”

“I’m fine,” she manages, faint and wavering. Steve’s hands only press harder into her shoulders until Nancy finally manages to bring her gaze up to meet his eyes.

“Nance.”

“Steve, I’m okay.”

Something seems to crumble in him a little as he slumps, a flash of fear and concern flickering across his face before he sniffs, trying to pull himself back together. “You were just stood there.”

“I couldn’t move,” Nancy says, numbly. She can’t help but shiver, like there’s still some of those icy tendrils wrapped around her insides.

“Shit,” Steve mutters, taking his cloak off and wrapping the extra layer around her shoulders. “We need to talk to someone. Hopper or something. He’d know why the Dementor attacked you.”

Nancy tries to shake her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now.”

“They’re not supposed to attack the students!”

“Steve!”

Even still shivering and fighting off the numbness of the fear, Nancy manages to snap at him. He deflates a little before her but looks pained. “Please, Nance. Maybe there’s something he can do to help. He used to be an Auror. Come on, Nancy.”

There’s so much concern that’s practically seeping out of Steve that Nancy really can’t resist giving in. He lets out a very unsubtle sigh of relief when she eventually nods, and manages to help lug her to Hopper’s Potions classroom. It’s early enough in the evening — even with how dark it is — that he’s still there, frowning heavily as he swings the door open when Steve pounds on it.

“Wha-? Harrington? What are you doing here?”

“We had detention, sir,” Steve manages, still supporting most of Nancy’s body weight even as she tries to draw herself up. “In the forest with Professor Antonov. We lost the rest of the group and then a Dementor attacked Nancy so we just ran here.”

Hopper’s frown deepens, if that’s even possible, half of his face cast in deep shadow as he pulls the door wider open to let them. Nancy shoves off from Steve, suddenly intent on standing on her own two feet even as a shiver runs through her violently enough to make her teeth chatter. Hopper rolls his eyes when he notices this, nodding to a seat that Nancy gratefully collapses in before turning to sort through some of his supplies.

“What happened, Wheeler?”

“I don’t know, sir. We got lost and when we tried to find the edge of the forest again, the Dementor obviously found us first.”

“I thought they weren’t supposed to attack the students,” Steve presses, ever the knight in shining armour. Hopper’s mouth flattens into a harsh line as he hums, searching in his store-cupboard for something.

“Dementors don’t have enough of a brain to really be able to follow orders. Anyone who thinks they can put a leash on them is kidding themselves.”

Nancy tries not to snort in agreement, though clearly enough leaks through into her expression that Hopper’s features twist into a wry smile as he shoves a potion into her hands.

“Here, that should warm you up.”

Her hands shake as she downs the potion, but there’s an immediate bloom of warmth throughout her chest. Steve looks relieved at the flush that overtakes her cheeks and Hopper nods, seemingly satisfied.

“Forget about the detention. I figure this is punishment.”

Nancy laughs a little hollowly as she gets to her feet, feeling returning to the rest of her body. “Thank you, sir.”

His gaze is heavy and searching, a long and drawn-out moment hanging in the air. There’s an air of suspicion to it as he evaluates her before he hums and jerks his chin back towards the door. “Get back to your dorm and get some rest, Wheeler.”

Steve moves to help her back to the Slytherin sections of the dungeons, but she gives him a cutting glance and he backs off, holding his hands up in surrender. He insists on walking with her, though, and she doesn’t miss the careful way that he watches her, like he’s ready to leap into action to save her again.

“Go back to your dorm, Steve,” she tells him when he deposits her at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to go to the medical wing?”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, huffing in frustration as he backs up. “But I expect to see you at breakfast, yeah? If you’re not there, I’m sounding the alarm.”

Nancy can’t help but smile a little softly at him. It’s sweet, even if they aren’t anything more than platonic now. She can’t deny that Steve is a nice guy. “Thanks, Harrington,” she manages, unable to find the words to really express her gratitude. For all her bluster since, she’s pretty sure that he saved her life back in the forest.

Steve seems to read between the lines, and ducks his head as he flushes. “It’s fine, Nancy. Get some rest, yeah?”

She snorts. “You too. You look like shit, man.”

“That’s what happens when you have to dive into the dirt to stop a Dementor from killing your friend,” he volleys back, raising an eyebrow. Nancy laughs a little, shrugging his cloak off and handing it back. Steve looks a little sad as he accepts it, something wistful in his expression, but he doesn’t linger long enough for Nancy to manage to address it, choosing to nod in acknowledgement instead before turning on his heel, throwing one last ‘goodnight’ over his shoulder.

She slips into the common room, ignoring everyone still lingering by the fire as she makes her way to her dorm, head down and shoulders up by her ears. The potion helps, but as she collapses back onto her bed, Nancy can’t help the way that she shakes and trembles. She burrows into her duvet and blanket as best she can, choosing not to acknowledge the curious glances from Joanna and Lucy. Cassie is nowhere to be seen, and Nancy is sort of glad for it, if only because she has no clue how she would even broach explaining what happened out there tonight.

Unbidden, fresh images of a pitch-black figure floating above her flash through Nancy’s head, along with the full-body feeling of being dunked in ice water. She does her best to dispel it, to force herself deeper into the warmth of her bed, but the sensation returns every time she closes her eyes — as though the second that she opens them again, Nancy will be back in the forest, face to face with the personification of fear as it leeches everything good out of her.

Nancy’s not sure how much there is left to take.

————

Nancy might be nosy, but even she knows better than to get too involved with whatever Mike has going on. It’s half the reason she hasn’t strangled him yet. Still, there’s something in her that means that she just can’t resist, just can’t help the way that her head snaps up at commotion on the other side of the Great Hall during dinner.

The sound of the bench scraping against the flagstones was grating and piercing, but what was more notable was the figure of Max, flaming hair whipping with the speed of her motion, turning and practically sprinting from the Hall.

Left in the dust, hanging half off the bench after being shoved, was, of course, Mike.

“What a surprise,” she can hear Grace mumble under her breath as Nancy pushes herself to her feet. He’s her brother, after all — it’s kind of her job as an elder sister to make sure that he’s okay, even as he scowls at her approach.

“You alright?”

“Fuck off, Nancy.”

She tries not to tell him off for swearing, even if he’s only a second-year. It feels dichotomous with the idealised version of her baby brother she’s only just beginning to let go off. Then again, maybe he’s running into the same problem with her. Nancy steels herself, trying to keep her distance as she knows that Mike will only get more heated the more overbearing she gets.

“You really pissed her off, Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What’s up with Max?”

He glowers at her. “What’s it to do with you?”

She sighs. Nancy doesn’t know what she has to do to get past this cold war with open hostility that Mike seems intent to wage. Either way, it’s beginning to get tiring. “Okay, let’s call peace, alright? I’m just trying to make sure she’s okay. And you.”

Mike sighs, relenting to some extent. It’s funny — sometimes he seems just like the little brother she remembers, and then, in a second, the illusion shatters. “Just shit with Billy.”

“Hargrove?” Nancy frowns. She wouldn’t put it out of Billy’s character to pick on the younger kids in other houses, but she’s not sure why Max would be a particular target. If anything, the kid intimidates her — she’s got the scariest glare she’s ever seen.

“Yeah, he’s her stepbrother,” Mike says, like this is obvious and well-known information. He raises an eyebrow, a rare smile pulling at his features when it came to an interaction with Nancy. “And, judging by the constipated surprised expression you’re pulling, I’m guessing you didn’t know that.”

“No, asshole,” she rolls her eyes, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. The new knowledge puts whatever she had seen between Max and Billy in a different, harsher context than before, though. She can’t help but wonder why her and Mike don’t get on better considering the fact that they apparently both have older Slytherin siblings they don’t seem to want anything to do with. She shakes the thought away when a familiar stale taste rises in her throat. “I did not. Why would I?”

Mike shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. “I guess he doesn’t advertise having a sister in Gryffindor. Or a half-blood in the family.”

She grimaces. “God, what a dick. I’m so glad I kicked his ass.”

“You did?”

“Well,” she tilts her head, remembering the exact way that her confrontation with Billy went down, “I would have. Did a great preamble. Called him a pussy and everything. But Carroll interrupted and split it up.”

“Right,” Mike scoffs. “You totally would have kicked his ass.” He jerks to his feet, a frantic spurt of movement that makes her lurch backwards a step. With one last dismissive look, Mike turns on his heel, as if that’s the last straw, and honestly Nancy stopped being able to follow his logic a long time ago, so she doesn’t protest too much. She does raise an eyebrow though, and her voice as she calls after him.

“I would have!”

It’s funny, she thinks to herself as she tries to ignore the stares of the surrounding students and starts the long trek back to the Slytherin dungeons. Maybe it’s a particular feature of little brothers, but it’s weird how Mike can see her as capable to the point of pulling off incredibly dark magic and murdering students but she’s still his lame older sister when it comes to kicking Billy fucking Hargrove’s ass.

“Cassie,” she whines, a little petulant but not hiding it as she flings herself onto her bed. Over on her own bed, Cassie raises an incredulous eyebrow. Things between the two of them hadn’t shifted when Nancy retreated into herself. Cassie seems to get to be privy to a different dimension of Nancy, being in Slytheirn and in her dorm. It’s much harder to hide from her apparently all-knowing gaze and every time that Nancy tried to pull away, the other girl just snorted and rolled her eyes. Eventually, Nancy just gave up.

“Wheeler.”

“Do you think I could kick Billy Hargrove’s ass?”

She snorts, putting down her book. “You know you could. He’s got about one brain cell and you’re still duelling champion last I checked.” Nancy grins smugly to herself. It’s true — Tommy has finally stopped challenging her to fights now that she’s proved her ability to trounce him won’t fade. Besides, he prefers hiding behind Hargrove these days anyway. “Why are you asking? Just need an ego boost, ‘Heir of Slytherin’?”

“Mike made fun of me,” she explains, pouting. Cassie snickers, incredulous and derisive.

“Merlin, you’re pathetic. Why didn’t you just Jelly-Legs him?”

“He’s my brother!”

Cassie gives her a hard look. “He’s a snot.”

Nancy’s laugh is sort of startled out of her, and a little bashful. “Alright, he’s a bit of a snot.”

“In the way that only a Gryffindor could be.”

Nancy can’t help but snicker. It’s true. She flops back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, grimacing to herself. “He’s certainly pig-headed.”

“I am so glad you aren’t a Gryffindor,” Cassie sniffs, but it’s firm either way. Nancy tilts her eyes, squinting in the other girl’s direction.

“Careful, Cass, or you might start sounding like you like me.”

“Merlin forbid,” she intones, rising almost ominously as she casts Nancy one last glance before swishing out of the room.

Nancy laughs, loud and echoing off the stone of the dungeon room. “You’re dramatic and an asshole, Chan!” She shouts after the other girl, smiling to herself, the feeling in her chest a little brighter than before.

The Hargrove thing was becoming a problem, though. She knows that Mike doesn’t want her to stick her nose in his business, nor his friends’ by extension, but Billy’s an issue on his own. He’s one of the last people who commits himself genuinely to harassing her, and that’s nothing compared to what he seems to be doing to Max and Steve.

That’s also not the kind of thing that Nancy is just going to let slide. What does she have to lose, after all?

When Cassie eventually comes back from wherever she had wandered off to, a suspicious tilt to her features as she casts a critical look at Nancy. “I feel like I can actually hear you getting bad ideas from here, Wheeler.”

“Are you ever going to leave me alone?” She protests, but it’s half-hearted and mechanic. After all, Cassie has a point: Nancy’s far too busy staring at the ceiling of the dormitory and plotting.

“You’d be lost without me,” Cassie informs her, volleying a pair of socks at Nancy’s head and grinning when she whips her head to look at her and pout. “Now, tell me what your new evil machinations are, Heir.”

“Maybe I’ll make you an accomplice later,” Nancy dismisses, before propping herself up on her elbows. “Fancy some practice?”

Cassie knows what she means, and her nose wrinkles accordingly. “Merlin, you’re like a dog with a bone. Yeah, sure, once it’s lights out.”

Nancy grins, triumphant. “You’re just pissed I’m making more progress than you are.”

It’s true, even if the difference is marginal. Both of them have finally managed to cast Patronuses that aren’t just wisps of cloud — forms of the spell that seem to be taking real and proper shape. This is the only time that Nancy hasn’t been able to master a spell quickly: she’s always been blessed with both power and dedication, achieving because she can and because she wants to at the same time. The Patronus spell, though, is different. It doesn’t take just affinity and belief in the right combination. It takes something more — a strength of soul, of goodness within, that maybe Nancy just doesn’t have.

Since the incident in the forest, Nancy has been insisting that the two of them work even harder at the spell — the bone-chilling fear is difficult to shake and Nancy isn’t surprised by this point to find it driving her out of bed and into the classroom to practice when it seems to linger deep within her, waiting for when she closes her eyes to remind her of the crushing hopelessness that had felt so right and numbly easy to give into at the time.

With a shake of her head, she does her best to dispel the thought before it can really take shape.

“We’re gonna get it eventually, yeah?”

Cassie looks at her, long and evaluative as the moment seems to swell, before she nods. “Yeah. Eventually, sure.”

Nancy lets herself fall back onto her bed, staring back up at the ceiling. Eventually, they’ll get it.

————

Steve gives her a sidelong look as she settles next to him at the Hufflepuff bench at breakfast, as does half the house, but he doesn’t comment.

“Morning, Nance. What’s this visit for?”

Nancy can’t resist the urge to grin at him, hand to her chest in mock offence. “Are you saying you don’t want me around, Harrington?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he turns back his breakfast.

Across the table, Robin gives her a soft smile, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that Nancy has always loved to watch. Still, there’s something empty to it, as well — more on the border of a grimace than a grin. She’s not sure if it’s the way that Nancy has been avoiding her or something else. Guilt twists in her chest all the same, and Nancy is seized with a sudden need to fix it all. After the Dementor incident, she doesn’t have the self-control to keep herself from her friends, even if it means she’s dragging them all down with her.

“What about you, Robin?” She tries, volleying a pleading look in her direction. “You not happy to see me?”

“Always, Nance, though you are now filling me with suspicion. I’m telling you, it’s the weekend and I’m not going to the library with you.”

Nancy laughs, shameless and unselfconscious for once. “I’m not that single-minded, you ass. I can have a life.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve challenges, abandoning his toast in favour of narrowing his eyes disbelievingly in Nancy’s direction, as if he might guilt her into spitting out why she’s here solely through a searching expression that looks remarkably like her mother’s. “When’s the last time that you did something for fun?”

“I do things for fun all the time!”

“Maybe if you count writing essays,” Robin teases, tossing her crust at Nancy’s head and laughing when she sputters in protest. “Though, I’m begging you, please don’t stop helping me with mine.”

“Next year, OWLs are going to crush you,” Steve warns, pointing his fork at Robin threateningly. “Nancy can’t hold your hand in an exam.”

She’s not quite sure why she and Robin burst into matching blushes at that, but it’s beside the point. Nancy clears her throat roughly, suddenly deciding that she should get to the actual reason she’s here.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’ve gathered.”

“Max and Hargrove are siblings.”

“What?” Robin’s jaw hangs comically open. Nancy gives her a hard stare, raising her eyebrows in a clear warning to let her get through what she’s trying to say. When she turns back to Steve, though, he doesn’t look surprised.

“Yeah. Step-siblings or something. Mike told me. Apparently, he thinks it’s common knowledge, and it’s incredibly vindicating to see that Robin here didn’t have any idea either, but I guess you did?”

Steve snorts into his orange juice as he mumbles some vague confirmation, and Nancy can’t help but wrinkled her nose in disgust as she watches him wipe roughly at his mouth, uncouth and clumsy. She’s seized with a sudden disbelief that they were ever supposed to be dating. Which, thankfully, they never really did, despite the implications that most people were happy to make.

“Well, she’s a half-blood, right? I guess he doesn’t really want that to become public knowledge.”

Nancy nods. “Right. But, the point is, he’s a dick to her. Like properly.”

She had watched the two of them closer after Mike had let slip that they were siblings — Nancy hadn’t quite been able to believe that she had never noticed their link. Once she had started paying attention, though, it became clear that Billy was taking any opportunity to intimidate and bully her, their interactions full of snark and derision. It is obvious that Billy has a hardline into any and all of Max’s insecurities and used it liberally, apparently revelling in the opportunity to punch down on her.

What is also clear, though, was that Steve had apparently adopted Max and the rest of Mike’s friends, or maybe it had been the other way around. It isn’t uncommon to see Steve helping Lucas with Quidditch or talking with Dustin, complete with Steve rolling his eyes and placing his hands on his hips almost constantly. Maybe it is because of his relationship with Eddie, as much as Mike hated it, but Steve had, however it had come about, wormed his way into the close circle Mike and his friends had formed since their first year. This is why she’s here, talking to him at all. If anyone should have a reason to help her find some way to deal with Hargrove, it would be Steve, and the way that he’s glaring at his plate doesn’t contradict that belief.

Nancy tries not to be too hurt by the ease he had apparently done it with and the resistance she still met from Mike herself, but that isn’t the point, she tells herself as she pushes down the vague sting. Instead, she plasters an innocent look on her face and purposefully tilts her voice up with curiosity as she turns to Steve. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Robin narrow her eyes in suspicion, but Nancy does her best to ignore it in case she gives the game away. “I never asked, by the way — what is it that Hargrove has against you?”

“Besides being a homophobe and a prick?”

“Yeah, besides that.” Nancy casts her gaze Robin’s way, but the other girl doesn’t seem surprised at Steve’s justification for hating Billy, so she decides to leave it alone.

Steve shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “I look out for Max when I can. It’s clear the kid has an awful time at home. Billy’s a shit older brother and he hates Max being under anyone’s control but his.”

Nancy grits her teeth. “Merlin, literally every time I have a conversation with or about him, I end it hating him more than when I started.”

“I think that’s the case for most people,” Robin snorts, grimacing. “He’s a fucking asshole.”

Steve sighs. “So, why are you talking to me about it?”

“Well, me and Cassie were talking-“

“Of course you were,” Steve scoffs, though it’s gentler than it might have been a little while ago. “It’s like you can’t resist sticking your nose in.” Nancy decides not to take too much offence at that, if only for the slightly disarming way that both Robin and Steve grin at her, fondness pouring out of the two of them. Together, they’re more than a little overwhelming. She clears her throat and shrugs.

“Whatever. The point is that he’s a menace both within and outside of the house, so it’s in everyone’s interest to do something about it.”

Robin grins. “You know you’re allowed to just want to help people. It doesn’t have to be part of some scheme.”

Nancy snorts, giving her a glare that has no heat behind it. “Fuck off.”

“Yeah, well, what do you suggest we do?”

“Bullies only respond to one thing — other bullies.”

“What do you mean?” Steve frowns, and Nancy shrugs.

“How do you think I dealt with Carol and Tommy? By making them realise that I was a bigger fish than them. They weren’t going to stay in control of the pond.”

Steve shakes his head, looking unsure. “You want to force him into being a nice person?”

“If he thinks that there’s serious consequences to him messing with people, especially with Max, he’ll stop. I don’t give a shit about his internal morality.”

Robin bites at her lip, leaning forward as she pitches in. “Yeah, but what’s stopping him from just taking it out on her without us knowing. It’s not like you did before. Or what about when they’re at home?”

Nancy frowns. That was something she hadn’t quite thought out. “Okay, good point. But the point that we should do something still stands.”

Steve sighs, something deep and heavy as he swings his legs over, rising from the bench and brushing himself down with a finality. “Yeah, sure. I get you and I get wanting to do something about it. I think you should talk to Max more than you should be talking to me but I guess I know why you aren’t.”

She nods, staring up at him unblinkingly. “Yeah, you do.” None of the three of them were in any doubt about the fact that Mike and Max and the rest of them had long since decided that they wanted nothing to do with her — maybe with the exception of Dustin, who admires academic prowess more than he is loyal to Mike and his resentment, apparently.

The boy before her, looking ages older all of a sudden, grimaces as he sighs again. “Alright. We’ll figure something out. Hallway confrontations like last time won’t work, though. He’s not Tommy or Carol. I don’t think this can be solved by beating the shit out of him in a duel. He’ll just try and come back harder.”

Nancy tries not to pout, considering the fact he has a point. After all, Billy likes breaking things. “Fine.”

“Don’t give me that. You’ll get your white whale, Nance.” She’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to be referencing, but he grins down at her softly in a way that she can’t help but return as he lands a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment. “I’ll see you later,” he says, nodding at Robin in farewell too, before finally turning and striding out of the Great Hall.

Nancy turns back around to face the table, grinning to herself in triumph. At least she had them on side, even if they apparently disagreed with her methods. Helping herself to some toast from a plate at the centre of the table, she’s surprised to see that, when she looks up, there’s something off with Robin.

It’s difficult to notice, but Nancy has spent enough years with her, searching for the smallest of details in her expressions, so it’s clear that there’s an oddly strained quality to her features, but she paints a joking smile across her face either way. It makes Nancy feel a bit unbalanced as she looks at her, knowing that something is wrong but not sure how to approach it.

“So, what the hell was that? You’ve changed your mind about Stevie? Gonna go back to being the golden couple or whatever?”

Nancy can’t help the way that she snorts in surprise, raising an eyebrow. It’s not what she’s expecting Robin to say, but she supposes that she hadn’t really talked to Robin about her and Steve sorting things out. She hasn’t really talked to Robin at all.

“No. Just friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Nancy affirms, not sure why there’s a spark of vulnerability in Robin’s eyes. “We talked a while ago. Billy was bothering him, and I told him where to stick it. Besides, like he told me, stuff changes. It was a couple years ago and it’s not like we were anything official. I was, like, 12.”

Robin laughs wryly, grinning, and it seems a touch more real now. “True. Easy to get caught up in it, I guess, when we spend our whole lives in this fucking castle.”

“What, you don’t think I’m good enough for your bestie?” Nancy jokes, purposefully pushing her, but the other girl frowns.

“No! Why would you think that? That’s not what I meant! I just didn’t think it worked out last time for a reason.”

Nancy laughs, placing a hand on Robin’s from across the table. The other girl immediately breaks out in a scarlet flush, but Nancy doesn’t press why. “I know, Robin. Don’t worry, I was joking.”

“Right,” the other girl mumbles, flushing as she stares at their hands. There’s a while of quiet between them, and Nancy is only now aware of the fact that they’re in the middle of the Great Hall, at the Hufflepuff table no less. She’d be getting looks and glances ever since she sat down — anyone was allowed to sit anywhere at most meals, but it wasn’t that usual for a Slytherin to plant themselves at the Hufflepuff table. She’s mostly used to letting the looks roll off of her, but there’s still something weirdly vulnerable about having this conversation somewhere that feels so exposing. She can particularly feel the weight of Jonathan’s eyes on her from the Ravenclaw table, but she has no reason to put any weight in what he thinks, she reminds herself.

Eventually, she caves to the urge to spill the words bubbling in her chest.

“Steve was just one of the first people to not judge me for it all, you know. I got scared of letting him down in the end and then felt awful for hurting him.”

“What do you mean? Your house, your family?”

“Yeah,” Nancy gets out, rubbing a hand over her face. “All of it. I don’t know what we were, to be honest, but I was just Nancy.”

Robin is quiet for a moment, before swallowing hard. There’s something distinctly hurt looking in her expression. “No, yeah. Totally get it.”

“What’s wrong?” Nancy can’t help but ask, stepping closer. Robin colours further, a wince flashing across her features as she stares at somewhere just past Nancy’s ear.

“Nothing. I just-” she cuts herself off with a harsh sigh, running a hand through her bedraggled hair before shrugging. “I never judged you for it, you know?”

Nancy wants to protest, to defend herself, but she stops short the second she opens her mouth. Robin is right. Nancy had never seen it that way, not properly, but it’s true. Robin had never held anything against her, even when Nancy had pushed her away in first year. It hits like a kick to the stomach and Nancy twists her fingers together tight enough until the skin pulls and catches and lock. It gives her something to look at that isn’t Robin’s vaguely achingly empty expression.

“No,” she eventually says, “you didn’t.” Robin slumps, like the confirmation hurts more than a denial. Nancy digs her nails into the tender skin of the inside of her wrist, sighing at the look on Robin’s face. “I’m sorry,” she offers, but it just makes the edges of Robin’s mouth tick further downward.

“It’s fine, Nancy.”

She is seized with the sudden need to fix this. “No, it isn’t,” Nancy bites back, Robin giving her a surprised look at her fierceness. “You’ve been kinder to me than I’ve ever deserved. I’m sorry, Robin.”

The other girl laughs a little, shrugging slightly. She pushes back from the table, getting to her feet, but gestures for Nancy to follow with a jerk of her chin towards the double doors leading to the hallway, and Nancy can’t help but stumbles after her.

“I guess you’ve always been the girl who was nice to me on the train that first day. It’s weirdly hard for me to let go of that. Which, you know, I get is kind of stupid. It probably meant nothing to you and now you’ve been stuck with me hanging around for four years, but, whatever, I was a scared kid in a new place and you were nice to me.”

The confession is rushed and Robin won’t look her in the eyes, but its heartbreakingly honest, to the point where Nancy almost can’t take it. Guilt festers in her stomach, and the taste in her mouth is bitter as she swallows. “It did mean something to me. It meant a lot. You mean a lot, you know,” she says, and she hates how halting it is. “And if that’s the only kind thing I’ve ever done for you, you should have given up on me long ago.”

Robin’s laugh is low and raspy. “I don’t think giving up on someone like you is possible, Nancy. You do realise that you’re Nancy Wheeler, right? You don’t need anyone to redeem you.”

Robin says it with a big wave of her hands, like just the concept of Nancy is bigger than anything she can think of. Standing across from her, it makes an odd weight press down on Nancy’s lungs, like a vice tightening around her chest. The thought of being something large and important to Robin is odd when she’s only felt small to herself. Nancy hates being small. But maybe she doesn’t have to be.

“And what’s that mean?”

“You’re just kind of incredible. Terrifying but incredible,” Robin admits, running a hand through her honey hair. It’s a nervous habit she’s picked up on before, though she’s not sure why Robin would be nervous now. Nancy doesn’t hide the way that she stares. Robin’s eyes gleam with amusement, even if there’s still a glimmer of hurt in them. It makes something in Nancy’s chest tight to know that she’s the one who put it there.

“I don’t know about that,” she says instead, something clicking into place as Robin laughs.

“You have publicly kicked a lot of people’s ass, Nance. Why do you think Tommy Hagan doesn’t go near you anymore?”

“I guess you have a point.”

“Really?” Robin deadpans, the edge of her mouth ticking upwards. “You’re not serious.”

Nancy shoves her lightly, knocking her with her shoulder. “Smugness doesn’t suit you.”

Robin huffs another laugh, grimacing. “Alright, fine. It works much better on you, I’ll admit. But I am right. You don’t need anyone to redeem you, Nance. You don’t need redeeming at all.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the personification of a Hufflepuff?” Nancy redirects the conversation, swallowing hard. It feels wrong to wipe away all of Robin’s good intentions, to dismiss her words like they are meaningless when the other girl clearly is sincere, but Nancy simply can’t accept them as truth. It clashes with the cold and hard knowledge that rests in the centre of her chest, and she’s just proud of the fact that she manages to speak without rancour. Robin doesn’t deserve her bitterness.

She acknowledges the bald-faced attempt to change the subject with a flick of her eyes in Nancy’s direction but acquiesces as she shrugs. “I guess I see it. I am very loyal, you know.”

Nancy laughs, raising an incredulous eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you without Steve until literally this moment.”

Robin doesn’t join in the laughter, her mouth twisting into some semblance of a knowing smile instead. “I was actually talking about me and you.”

Her breath catches in her chest. “Yeah?” Nancy checks, her cheeks flushing at how shy she sounds all of a sudden. She’s surprised though, maybe wrongly considering the whole context of their conversation, but it will never stop shocking her that Robin wants anything to do with her.

“Yeah,” the other girl confirms with a chuckle. “C’mon, I mean I followed you into that chamber, didn’t I? I even go to the library for you. Maybe one day you’ll realise that you’re Nancy Wheeler, but, till then, I’m here to remind you.”

Nancy has never been good at reading people, but every word from Robin’s mouth drips with sincerity and hope and something about it makes every feeling of affection and warmth she’s ever felt towards Robin swell and multiply, crashing around in her chest like waves in a storm. For some reason, it feels familiar, almost like coming home, when she drags Robin into a tight hug. The other girl stiffens in her arms for a beat, and Nancy’s mouth floods with bitter regret. She’s just about to pull back and apologise before Robin lets out a pleased hum and brings her arms up, hugging back just as firmly.

The memory of last year, in the Chamber, comes flooding back, strange and unbidden. But it isn’t the fear or the choking dread and hopelessness that Nancy remembers — instead, she can’t help but recall the way that Robin had caught her when she had fallen, the way that she had cradled her head to stop her from cracking it against the stone. Nancy remembers the way that she had been convinced, for a split second, that everything was going to be okay, because it had been Robin’s face hovering over hers.

She pulls back, after what feels like an eternity has passed, her heart caught stuttering in her chest and her breath frozen in her throat. Robin’s expression is velvet soft, eyes gleaming and the corners of her mouth upturned, and Nancy catches herself thinking of how easy it would be to lean in, to place a feather light kiss on that tiny crease, or on Robin’s upturned nose, or on one of her many scattered freckles. The urge comes out of nowhere and practically makes her heart stop.

A half-breath later and she is already out of Robin’s arms, shoving the thought away and having been so surprised by the warmth in her chest that she darted backwards, and she regrets the motion too late at the sight of Robin’s vague hurt. Heat pounds through her, but so does panic in equal measure. She can’t do this.

“You’re a good friend, Robin. And you’re Robin Buckley to me, if it means anything” she manages, because it’s true. Robin’s face twists strangely, her features clouded with something that Nancy can’t read for the life of her. Robin’s hand comes up to rub at the back of her own neck, a nervous tick that Nancy hasn’t seen in a while, and she wishes she could read minds properly.

She wishes that she was Legilimens because, for all the immorality of the idea, she wants nothing more than to be able to just know the truth. She wants all the facts mapped out in front of her like some neatly summarised concept of magic that she can take and digest and consume until it’s understood and it’s part of her and she knows what to do with it. This is terrifying — this isn’t something that Nancy has the faintest clue what to do with. It hits her, like tsunami, all the falseness that had been wrapped up with her running around with Steve or Jonathan. None of that felt like this. And all that Robin had done was hug her, was look at her.

She has no idea what that’s supposed to mean to her. About her.

Nancy suddenly feels foolish as Robin smiles, business as usual. Her eyes crinkle around the edges, warm and humour-filled as always, whilst Nancy falls to pieces across from her. “You are too, Nance.”

If only she knew the truth. Nancy’s laugh feels heavy as lead, and she forces herself to swallow past the bitterness lining her throat. “Do you remember in first year, when I made you go flying with me?”

“Hey, I was trying to cheer you up,” Robin counters, grinning wider now, and Nancy’s chest hurts from the lightness of it all. “I like to think that I succeeded.”

“You did,” Nancy confesses quietly, moving past the feeling with a quick laugh that she hopes doesn’t sound as forced to Robin as it does to her. “But I’m wondering if you’ve improved any since then.”

Robin shakes her head firmly. “Sorry, Nancy. I would do a lot for you, but not that. Not again. My death wish isn’t that bad.”

She pouts, and the rhythm and dynamic returns to something she thinks she can handle, if only barely. Nancy still feels breathless, reeling and desperate for stability once more. It’s not her fault she always thinks better on her broom. “Come on. You can stay still if you want. Chuck Quaffles at my head.”

Robin appears to consider the proposition for a second before grinning. “I do enjoy the idea of me being the one to finally knock you off your broom, but if I fall whilst I’m throwing, you’re being left out of my will.”

“Right,” Nancy laughs, “understood. What am I due to get otherwise? Just so that I know what I’m missing out on.”

Robin shrugs, huffing slightly as she thinks. “I mean, not much. Probably just my Walkman tapes. I’m poor as shit, Nancy.”

The surprise of the statement makes a laugh burst its way out of Nancy’s chest, and even with the giddiness that she always feels around Robin, she feels more solid now. More in control of herself and less likely to throw any reason to the wind and do something that she knows she’d regret. Like tell the truth.

“Well, as much as I like your tapes, I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t fall and break your neck.”

Robin places a hand against her chest, smiling softly. “Your concern just warms my heart, Nance.”

She laughs, shoving the other girl gently. “You coming or not?”

“Yeah,” Robin mumbles, something unreadable in her face. “Yeah, let’s go.”

When they get to the field, though, Robin stops her just before Nancy can swing a leg over her broom. “Hang on,” she mumbles, stepping away. Nancy doesn’t examine why it feels like a loss. “Do you still not know what tennis is?”

Nancy looks at her blankly. “Rob, how could I have possibly learned what that is between the train and now?”

“I don’t know! A book?” Robin colours at the look that Nancy sends her. “Okay, either fuck off with that or make peace with not knowing something, yeah?” And Robin has her there, because Nancy feels a tightening at the corner of her mouth and a flicker of annoyance in her chest at the thought of not knowing something that Robin treats as common and obvious. Robin laughs at the wordless concession, but it isn’t smug or mean. It’s warm and generous and Nancy feels like she’s part of the joke despite being the butt of it as well, and she can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face.

“Go on, then. Tell me.”

“I can do you one better. I’m going to show you. But, first, I need you to summon a ball like you did before. And I’m going to go break into the equipment room.”

Panic flits through Nancy. “What are you talking about?”

Robin grins at her. “I need Beaters’ bats!”

“Can’t you just transfigure some?”

“That’s nowhere near as fun,” Robin pouts, a mischievous slant to her smile. “I’ll put them back.”

“Robin, breaking in is stupid if I can just use magic. Go find a big branch or something,” Nancy scolds, ignoring the way that the other girl looks like a kicked puppy as she trots off in search of something Nancy can transfigure into bats. Meanwhile, she focuses on finding a rock she can make into some sort of ball — Robin had given her no indication as to size or shape, so she goes for something Quaffle-like, hazarding a best guess.

Judging by Robin’s laughter when she comes back, two hefty branches slung over her shoulder, Nancy failed pretty badly.

“Alright, alright, shut up and tell me what you want,” she huffs, trying not to cross her arms or stomp her foot like a petulant child.

“Like, a little bigger than a Snitch.” Nancy goes hunting and returns triumphant with a rock that fits pretty perfectly in her hand. Robin looks at it for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, close enough. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Now, can you make these like bats but with wider flatter faces? Like a paddle?”

Nancy does so, but only because Robin smiles and bats her eyes comically. The grin on her face alone is worth it.

“Alright, now we are on it!”

“So. Tennis is a sport? Like Quidditch?”

Robin shakes her hand to and fro. “A little. It’s usually between two people. There’s a net between them, at, like, hip height. The game is basically hitting it back and forth, but the ball can only bounce once on each side of the net. There are areas of the court that you have to stay in too, but basically it’s a game of hitting it back until the other person either hits it out or doesn’t get it to it before it bounces again.”

Nancy nods, stepping back and raising a questioning eyebrow. She laughs when Robin makes a shooing motion, gesturing for her to go further back, and acquiesces until she gets an enthusiastic thumbs up. “So, like this?” She calls hesitantly, using the newly transfigured bat to gently hit the make-shift tennis ball in Robin’s direction. She had said it needed to bounce so she aims it for roughly in front of her, enough that the other girl wouldn’t be able to easily hit it back.

What neither of them had thought of, though, was that the thawing ground, with the weather on the closing end of winter and the spring flower heads beginning to peek through, wouldn’t let the ball bounce. Instead, it sadly trickles to rest at Robin’s feet, the two of them staring at it for a second before the muggleborn bursts out laughing.

“Tennis balls are made of a special bouncy material,” Robin says eventually, shrugging like it’s no big deal even though Nancy knows that she’s pouting, put out that she’s failed at something, even if it’s as trivial as this. “It doesn’t matter. We can just do what’s called volleys. That’s when you hit the ball between you but you don’t let it bounce on the ground at all.”

“Is that different to tennis?” Nancy asks as she moves closer, Robin picking up the ball and gently batting it to her, the two of them settling into a rhythm after a few failed starts. This might all be new to Nancy, but she’s got good enough hand-eye coordination to muddle along.

Robin shakes her head. “No, just a part of it. Honestly, we are reaching the edges of my knowledge, though. I’m sure you can imagine that I wasn’t the most athletic kid, dude.”

Nancy laughs. It’s true that Robin is pretty clumsy, all things considered, so it makes sense. “So, why do you think me and Cassie are like tennis?” Robin’s comment from the beginning of term, on the train before everything went wrong, still doesn’t really make sense. Robin grins to herself, a curling expression that slowly lights up the whole of her face in a motion that Nancy is so captivated by that she almost misses returning the ball to the other girl.

“When really good people are playing tennis, they can hit it really hard and quickly. If you’re watching it, you usually end up moving your head back and forth as you watch the ball and it can look quite funny. When you and Cassie are arguing or bantering or whatever, I feel a bit like I’m watching a tennis match. Like you two slip into a rhythm or whatever and I’m just watching you two bat the conversation back and forth between you. It’s pretty amazing actually.”

Nancy doesn’t really know how to respond to that. Both of them are focused on hitting the ball — maybe that’s why Robin lets a kind of wistfulness slip into her tone. Keeping her focus on their rhythm, Nancy tries to carefully respond. “Well, I think you and Steve can be like that too.”

Robin laughs, shrugging to herself. “Maybe. Not quite as intelligent, though.”

“I don’t think Cassie’s level of pretension is something to aspire to.”

“Counting yourself out from that, Wheeler?”

“Absolutely,” Nancy asserts, raising her chin. “Would someone pretentious be making a fool of themselves at a Muggle sport?”

Robin chuckles, raising an eyebrow as she catches the ball in a surprisingly smooth motion. The sudden weight of her focus catches her a little of guard and Nancy does her best not to shrink under it. “I don’t think you’re making a fool of yourself, Nance,” she says, but the words are purposeful and pointed, like really Robin is talking about something else.

Nancy’s breath catches in her chest, obvious in the way that it doesn’t curl up in front of her like mist in the cold air. Time seems to freeze, though, until she breaks it with clearing her throat. “I believe I was promised a companion for my broom ride.” Technically, Robin had only agreed to throw Quaffles at her head, but Nancy wasn’t going to remind her of that. Not when there’s this strange itchniness beneath her skin to get closer to Robin. To have her within her reach. The idea of leaving her on the ground is enough to make Nancy finally not want to fly for once.

Robin draws herself up, giving Nancy a doubtful look before letting loose a truly exhausted sigh, crumbling in on herself as Nancy grins, victorious. “Alright, fine.”

As they soar through the sky, Robin’s grip on her borrowed school broom white-knuckled, Nancy can’t help but feel her heart swoop as well. There’s something so freeing about being up in the air, the crisp breeze and feeling like she could touch the stars and the heavens and the whole sky along with it. They stay up there until their cheeks are stained red against the wind and Robin’s voice has gone hoarse from shouting in fear every time that Nancy pretends she’s going to tip them. It’s worth it for the way that Robin clings, her fingertips digging into Nancy’s waist, and the girl always apologises for it afterwards, loosening her grip. Nancy doesn’t know how to tell her that there’s nothing to be sorry for, that her skin feels cold and lifeless without the weight of her touch on it. It’s like Robin takes a knife to her insides, purposefully and irreversibly carving out a chamber in her lungs that’s all hers, so that every breath that Nancy takes sings with Robin, Robin, Robin. She doesn’t know why it also makes her throat go thick and her hands white-knuckled on the handle of her broom.

Eventually, Nancy flies them to the top of the Astronomy Tower, easily disembarking and helping Robin off as well. The view is almost as good, but Robin is visibly relieved to have her feet on solid ground again.

“I guess it must be weird to suddenly be able to fly after eleven years of thinking you were a muggle,” Nancy teases, and the wind burn red of Robin’s cheeks mingles with the embarrassed flush that spreads across her face.

“Apparently I haven’t gotten used to the concept yet,” she laughs, shrugging. “Though we do have these things called planes.”

“What the fuck are planes?”

Robin laughs, scrunching her nose, and Nancy tries to ignore the way that her heart does cartwheels in her chest. “Kind of difficult to explain. It’s like a train. You know, it takes people places and to different countries and things, but it’s smaller and its flies. But it’s enclosed so it doesn’t feel so high. Less scary.”

Nancy truly has no idea what to make of that description, but she supposes it isn’t a big deal. “Sounds terrifying if you ask me. What makes it fly?”

“Uh, engines? It’s a little difficult to explain and, honestly, I stopped learning science when I was eleven, so even I don’t know how it works.”

Nancy can’t hold back her laugh at that. “Fair enough, but you get to learn magic. Worthy trade off, don't you think?”

Robin hums in pretend consideration, grinning at the look on Nancy’s face, though there’s something unnameable in the way that she looks at her. “Yeah, I guess so. Though it would be nice to be free of you.” There’s no chance for the words to sink in and makes Nancy’s chest cave, because Robin is already nudging her in camaraderie, the wide smile evidence enough that she’s joking.

“Prick,” Nancy levels back, rolling her eyes. “Who would you study with if it wasn’t for me?”

“Oh, woe,” Robin exclaims dramatically, hand to her forehead like she’s pretending to faint. “No studying? Whatever would I do?”

“Next time people are getting possessed and killed by a remnant of a dark wizard, I’m going to let you die and collect that tape collection,” Nancy declares and both of them only stiffen a little. None of them like thinking about what happened last year. Robin chuckles, strained and harsh.

“Understood,” she jokes, and, impressively, she’s only grimacing a bit. “Honestly, I should actually be thanking the fact that you’re such a swot.”

“Oh, really?”

Robin smiles at Nancy’s arched eyebrow. “Oh yeah. Between hanging out with Steve and then you and Eddie, I’m glad that sticking around you usually means keeping my grades up as well.”

Nancy scoffs, nudging Robin roughly with her shoulder to hide the way that her cheeks burn red. The two of them stand in silence for a bit, the winter air crisp and chilling at the top of the tower. The snow has all melted, but the bright sun is still blinding in the clear blue sky. Spring flowers are beginning to peek through the mud and muck, green spots sprouting throughout the grounds where there had before just been white. The stone is cool as Nancy leans against the balcony, running her fingertips across the rough texture.

“Do you wish you were a muggle?”

The question surprises both of them, and Nancy finds herself flushing.

“Wow, Nance,” Robin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that they always do when she really means to smile. It’s the only thing that puts Nancy a bit more at ease, that reassures her that she hasn’t ruined something by putting her foot in her mouth. “What makes you ask that?”

“Sorry,” she manages, sheepish, “I guess I was just wondering. There must be so much different about that world and this one.”

Robin tilts her head, considering. “I guess so. But I don’t wish I was a muggle. I didn’t fit there even before I knew I was magic.”

There’s a sadness to the words that Nancy can’t quite read. It’s not bitter, just gloomy. Maybe resentful, but in the kind of way that makes her think that it’s about something that Robin has long resigned herself to, even if it doesn’t sand off the raw edge of hurt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s making you so chatty?”

She shrugs. “I don't know. You talked me down earlier. Feels like I should do the same for you. I know there’s stuff you don’t like to talk about, but we can if you want to.” Saying that there’s stuff that Robin doesn’t talk about is an understatement. It’s easy to miss with her awkwardness and habit of covering everything up with humour, but there’s plenty that she knows Robin skirts.

Robin sighs, her breath misting in the winter air, curling and drifting into the wind. “Yeah, true.” There’s a long silence as she seems to mull over whatever is on her mind before she sighs again, more drawn out this time. “Me and my family don’t really get on. They didn’t expect a magic kid, but its more than that. They didn’t expect all of me, really. And they’re nice folks, sure, but I don’t know how much they wish I didn’t spend the majority of my year away from them. Like isn’t the baseline of a parent supposed to be that you want your kid around? I guess I can’t find it too surprising, but it doesn’t make it the easiest to be a muggle or to be a wizard.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they expect you?”

There’s a brief silence, heavy and pregnant. It hangs between them, icier even than the weather in a fragile kind of way, in a manner that makes it clear how easy it would be to smash.

“I’m gay,” Robin says, abrupt and short, and she slams her jaw shut in a way that always means there’s so much more she’s buzzing to say. Nancy’s breath kind of catches in her chest, and she feels all too aware of herself in the kind of way that she always does when she’s not quite sure of what to say. Robin isn’t looking at her though, eyes carefully trained on the horizon. “My parents aren’t really the kind of people who support that. They don't know, but. You know. They know.”

“Right,” Nancy says, her mouth suddenly feeling like its stuffed with cotton wool. Robin gives her a look, eyebrow raised in amusement, as if she’s asking if that’s the best she can come up with. “That’s kind of shitty from them.”

Robin snorts a laugh, sharp and violent, like she wasn’t expecting it any more than Nancy was. “Yeah, no shit, Nance.”

“I’m sorry that they’re like that,” she manages now, sad smile curling on her face. “You deserve better.”

The other girl doesn’t say anything in response, just sort of huffing a breath of air as a peaceful sort of quiet settles back over them. Until Nancy spies Robin biting at her lip, and the other girl finally clears her throat. “And, uh, you don’t care about that kind of thing?”

“No, Robin,” Nancy smiles, though she hadn’t really thought about it till now. Still, it makes all the puzzle pieces of the girl before her fit together a little better, and it’s not like she hates the picture it makes. Besides, why would she? “I don’t.”

“Right.”

A beat.

“You thought I was dating Stevie, didn’t you?”

“Shut up, Robin, the whole school thinks you're dating Steve.”

Robin smirks, slow and sly. “Yeah, but you really thought I was dating him.”

Nancy scoff, feeling the tips of her ears burning bright red. Honestly, she’s not really sure she ever did. Whatever is between Robin and Steve was something that Nancy never really got, even if she sort of assumed it was romantic on the surface, it was never really about whether or not they were dating. Besides, Steve has whatever he’s got going on with Eddie. “Not really. You’re way too good for him.”

Robin howls with laughter, bright and barking and ugly, and it makes Nancy grin wider than she ever would have if it was melodic and dainty and beautiful. “That’s the fucking truth. Steve-o would be so lucky. Besides, he’s lusting after Eddie now.”

Nancy shrugs, grin pulling at her lips as she spins, back to the railing now, and arches her head to look at Robin. She’s better than the view from the tower anyway. “You know, I didn’t see it at first, but now I really do.”

“Yeah,” Robin admits. “Not the most obvious, but they make a certain kind of sense.”

“Do you think Eddie likes him back?”

“Have you not seen the way that he gives him shit? I mean, I don't think I’ve ever heard him call Steve by his first name.”

“So, is that a yes or a no?”

Robin laughs. “Eddie wants him so bad; it makes him look stupid.”

Nancy deflates with laughter, breath catching in her chest from the force of it. “Fuck, maybe you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Robin snipes back, raising an eyebrow. Nancy shrugs, hoping the other girl doesn’t notice as she shifts closer to her.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

Robin gives Nancy a sad smile. “Yeah.” This is one of the only times that Nancy hasn’t seen her cover up this raw nerve of pain and bitterness with a mask of humour and levity. She thinks back to when she saw Robin stuff a scrap of parchment into her pocket, the same vague expression of insecurity and worry on her face and can’t help but wonder if that had something to do with this. If Nancy had been missing the clues the whole time.

Guilt floods through her. She’s as bad as everyone else — just as guilty as all the people who looked at her and assumed or failed to see past the green trimmed robes and red trimmed family tree. Robin isn’t any simpler than she was. Every comment that had brought her relief or levity was perfectly planned for it, each word crafter to tease out a smile in someone else. Robin slathers humour and sarcasm over her true self as readily as Nancy builds up her masks of stone and defences of top grades and Quidditch skill. The only time she had maybe ever been honest about herself, as opposed to simply her view of Nancy, had been in first year, when they had hidden in that secret passageway and broken apart the secrets of being a muggleborn at Hogwarts. Even then, Robin had held back — like she does now.

She has been wildly unfair to her, Nancy realises, with her blindingly egotistical misery and self-pity. More unfair than she ever previously understood. But the guilt that churns in her stomach and burns her throat is too difficult to articulate, so she settles for a half smile and a pinning look.

“You know, Robin, however well you think of me,” Nancy manages, phrasing the words as carefully as she can, “I think better of you.”

Robin might be no angel, might be as complicated and deep as anyone else, but Nancy is sure of her words and her feelings — she is sure of the fact that Robin, when it comes to her meaning and her intentions and her aims, has never been anything other than perfect to Nancy.

Robin colours, struggling to look away, but Nancy doesn’t break the eye contact. She needs Robin to know that she means what she says, that she understands where she’s gone wrong without Nancy having to say it. “You know,” she starts again, hesitant and nervous as Robin turns to look at her, her bright eyes curious, “if you ever want to avoid going home, or whatever, you can stay with me?”

Robin snorts softly, but it isn’t as mocking as Nancy had dreaded. It’s almost fond instead. “Come on, Nance, I see the look in your eye when you have to go home. We both stay for Christmas, after all.”

Nancy twitches her lips. “I guess so, but the offer still stands. You could help me bully Mike.”

“True,” Robin laughs, brash and bright, before trailing off into a sigh that Nancy really can’t read. She’s not sure that she can ever find the words to apologise to Robin, to express the depth of it all, but the other girl seems to understand as she flushes deeper but meets Nancy’s outstretched hand easily. Pale fingers intertwine with Robin’s slightly tanner ones, slender digits tangling together and knuckles locking until Nancy can feel Robin’s pulse in her wrist thumping through her own body. It’s strangely calming, and a serene smile springs to her features before she can hold it back. Robin returns it, though, equally and perfectly, and something in Nancy’s cold and fossilised heart breaks open and sings with happiness and she’s not sure she’s ever experienced a pain she loves more than this.

————

Two weeks later, even though Christmas is long past, all of the effort Nancy had put in was worth it when Robin slips into her usual seat the library, eyes gleaming, newly unwrapped cassette tapes in hand.

“What’s this, then, Wheeler?”

Nancy raises her chin. “What are you talking about? Don’t you know what a tape is?”

Robin grins, the kind of smile that grows and bubbles and twists by virtue of the fact that she can’t hold it back. “Softie,” she condemns, all gentle and meaningful in a way that makes her want to squirm.

Nancy shakes her head, keeping her eyes trained on her book and her voice steady. “Just trying to expand the list of what’ll be left to me after you finally kick the bucket, Robin.”

————

Things in Nancy’s life are going so well that she’s almost surprised when it all goes downhill again.

As the Easter term begins to wrap up, and Nancy is beginning to believe that despite the year being haunted by Dementors hanging around the castle, they might actually make it out of this year without anything too dramatic happening. Of course, she is quickly proven wrong when rumours of Bauman being spotted in the castle simmer through the Great Hall over breakfast one morning.

This is Hogwarts — gossip tears through it like wildfire. Still, this is different. Half of Gryffindor look pale and pinched, like they hadn’t slept, and Nancy can’t help but zero in on who she’s sure is the focus. Sure enough, dark bangs hang under every eye of Mike and his friends. If it were up to her, she would shoot over there now to demand answers, but Nancy can’t trust that he wouldn’t make it a bigger scene than she would like. So, it’s all that she can do to keep herself in her seat, stewing silently until people start filing out of the Great Hall. Whispers swarm her, and she’s positive that everyone is talking about what could have happened last night, but she is numb to the way that it all washes over her. Instead, she has her eyes fixed on her little brother, noting the way that he slumps and shuffles tiredly through the halls. Thankfully, the lot of them are nerdy enough to spend most of their lunch break in the library.

Nancy’s chest twists painfully at the way that her brother’s face falls when he spots her approaching.

“Mike.”

He gives her an exhausted shake of his head as she looms over their library table, the rest of his friends apparently cowed into relative silence. “It’s nothing, Nancy. We’re fine.”

Funnily enough, that doesn’t do much to dispel her worries.

“That’s not good enough,” Nancy insists, because she’s never seen quiet and firm El look this shaken and even Max looks a little drained. “Spill. What the hell happened last night?”

“How do you even know that we had anything to do with it?” Lucas pipes up, though he surrenders when the rest of them whip around to glare at him. Max rolls her eyes as she hits him in the arm, hissing at him under her breath. It would be amusing if Nancy didn’t feel so tightly wound — she’s being pulled to her limit, stretched taut enough to snap any second.

“Bauman was in the castle. That’s what everyone is saying. Was he in the Gryffindor tower?”

Dustin shrugs, trying for a charming grin that doesn’t quite land with the way that most of his teeth are missing. “Who knows? We had nothing to do with it.”

The disbelieving glare that she sends his way keeps him quiet.

“You lot definitely had everything to do with it. Tell me, was he in the Gryffindor tower?” Mike stares back at her, resolute and raising his chin in the same way that she knows she does when she’s being stubborn and knows it. The sight of the habit only makes her stomach churn more. He’s so young — she’s supposed to be taking care of him. This is supposed to be what everything she’s done in the past year has been about, and now Bauman is breaking into the castle and Nancy would have slept right through him killing her little brother.

“Please, Mike.” For once, Nancy isn’t ashamed of the way that her voice cracks as her fear seeps through. She sees the way his eyes widen in surprise and hates what it says about them both. “You’re my brother. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Tell me what happened.”

“I woke up in the night and he was tearing down my bed curtains.”

Everyone at the table startles and turns to face Max. Nancy wasn’t expecting her to be the one to give in, but she’ll take answers wherever she can get them. Instead of glaring, Mike just sighs, looking defeated as he nods, a clear gesture for Max to continue.

“I guess that he thought that it was El’s bed.”

Max shrugs, like the idea of a serial killer breaking into her dorm isn’t terrifying. Nancy wants to admire the bravery, but it just breaks her heart instead. It isn’t helped by the little voice in her head that reminds her that this is what Nancy should have been. She should have had her chin up and been able to face any threat head on, but instead she is still so ruled by her fear. It makes her breath short and her gut twist in equal measure.

“Are you okay?” She manages, and Max snorts, offended.

“I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. And no one else saw him. He didn’t even touch El.”

Nancy frowns. “What are you talking about? He got past all the wards and the very rude portrait without anyone seeing him?”

“The Fat Lady isn’t that rude,” Will protests under his breath, ears flushing red when everyone turns to look at him.

“She would maybe be nicer if you guys stopped calling her ‘the fat lady’ like she doesn’t have a name,” Nancy agrees, and she can’t help but be stuck on the way that Will beams at her for just a split second before his expression falters and he averts his eyes again, something more than shyness taking over him.

Dustin clears his throat, looking between Nancy and Will with confusion but plowing on anyway. “Yeah, apparently he slashed through her when she didn’t let him in and then brute forced it.”

“Not apparently,” Mike asserts, his voice sounding serious. “He did.”

Nancy bites at her lip. Someone else still should have seen him. He should have tripped a ward or been spotted by a prefect patrolling or one of the Dementors. That’s why they were here, after all. It didn’t make sense that no one at all saw him. Like he’s reading a book, Mike practically seems to spot her thought process on her face.

“You think there is something more to it? The grounds were searched.”

“Well, he wouldn’t hang around. I guess that’s why he ran after Max saw him instead of going for El,” Dustin protests, crossing his arms.

Still, something about the whole situation nags at Nancy, ticking over in the back of her mind as she thinks. She hums, unsure, before sighing. The important thing is that her brother is safe. He’s okay, and so are the rest of the kids. Nancy can’t help the way that she lands a hand on El’s shoulder, the girl looking up at her seriously. “I’m glad you’re okay, Eleven.”

She blinks owlishly before nodding. “Thank you, Nancy.”

“You too, Max,” she says, and the red-head doesn’t seem to take her nearly as seriously as El does. Nancy doesn’t care too much, pulling Mike to his feet from the library table despite his protests. She feels him stiffen as she throws her arms around him, the embrace more emotion than she has shown around him in a while, but he lets it happening, clearly realising that he doesn’t have much choice in the matter. He wraps his arms around her too, but it’s tenuous and tentative. Nancy tries not to focus on the bittersweet taste in her mouth at his reluctance as she pulls back, clearing her throat.

“You have to be careful. This isn’t a game.”

Mike opens his mouth to protest, but clearly there’s something insistent enough in Nancy’s expression that he stops. Instead, he just nods, not quite able to look her in the eye.

“Okay. Okay, Nancy.”

She sniffs, nodding harshly before turning on her heel and walking away. There’s a swell of emotion in her chest that she can’t quite manage to deal with. Nancy can hear Mike and his friends talking as she walks away, breaking out into curious whispers, but she does her best to block it out. The panic and emotion is still roiling instead of her, but she shoves it away. This is serious, and she has to believe that Mike will listen when she says that he can’t treat this as a game. He has to start talking to her.

Thankfully, he seems to have listened at least partly, if lunch two weeks later is anything to go by.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice sounds in her ear suddenly, and Nancy jumps about a foot in the air and drops gravy down her jumper. Cassie bursts out laughing next to her, and Nancy sends a fierce scowl her way.

“Motherfucker,” she bites out, whipping round to glare at her little brother, who stands behind her like some sort of bad omen, his face taut, though it twitches with amusement when he notices the new stain. Nancy waves her wand bad-temperedly to disappear it. “What do you want?”

“Don’t you listen? I need to talk to you.”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I got that, but about what, dipshit?”

“Can you just shut up and come with me?”

Nancy casts one last longing look at her food. Knowing Mike, she’s not going to get any time to finish her lunch. Cassie follows her gaze, snorting derisively. If Nancy had ever really believed that Cassie had any respect for her, she might have been worried, but that ship had long sailed. “Just take it with you, Wheeler. I’ll see you in Transfiguration.”

She slathers one last bit of butter on a slice of bread, biting it between her teeth as she gathers all of her things and throws her bag over her shoulder. “Come on, then,” she mumbles between mouthfuls as she lets Mike grab her by the wrist.

Mike shoves her into the hallway, grimacing as she brushes toast crumbs off of her front, Nancy pulling at the fabric till she’s finally back to her usual pin-neat state. “What’s wrong, Mike?” She mumbles out between her last mouthful.

“Something’s going on with Brenner,” he starts, frowning like he doesn’t really want to be telling Nancy this. She’s not even sure why he is — Mike, going by last year, keeps things private till people are about to die.

“What makes you say that?

“I think he’s helping Bauman,” Mike grinds out, raising his chin defiantly. “He has to be.”

“What?”

His scowl only seems to deepen. “Come on, Nancy. I know you thought it. He has to have someone helping him.”

She’s glad that he’s at least coming to her with his suspicions, but knowing that he’s still digging into it makes such fear bolt through her that there’s no holding back the sudden white-hot anger and frustration that burns in her throat, the type that only her little brother can summon.

“I agree that Bauman is going to go after El again, and I agree Brenner is shifty, but I doubt that he’s helping him,” Nancy insists. “It’s too simple. Brenner plays a long game, I promise you.”

Mike rolls his eyes, frustrated. “I don’t know why I even talked to you. You’re practically in his pocket.”

Nancy can’t help but glower at him. It feels awful to express it so simply — what she thinks Brenner is up to. He’s the only teacher who’s really ever been there for Nancy, and she’s so sure its malicious that it kind of hurts. Mike is clearly having none of it, and she’s struck with the urge to shake him loose. He has no idea how much she’s sacrificed for him. “Fuck off, Michael, I am not. I’m the one who told you he was watching El in the first place.”

“Yeah! And he’s being weird!”

“Like how?”

Mike tuts in frustration. “He keeps trying to talk to El alone about her mom or something, and brought Bauman up in lessons.”

Nancy thinks for a second before shrugging helplessly. “I mean, yeah, it’s good you’re watching out for him, but I don’t know if just mentioning Bauman is enough. And El’s mom is famous. I don’t know, Mike, I think he’s up to something, but I don’t think it’s something as blatant as getting Bauman into the castle.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“So, what? You think you’re going to prove that your teacher, who’s one of the most proficient wizards in the whole castle, that he’s helping a wanted criminal? Even if he is, you would have to have some insane evidence, Mike.”

He rolls his eyes, unable to see past the fact that Nancy isn’t unilaterally agreeing with him. “Can you just listen to me, Nancy? I don’t care about evidence right now, I care about stopping Bauman from hurting El. And, what, you’re saying he’s too evil to be helping him?”

“You’re in second year, Mike. I don’t care how much danger you think El is in — you’re more likely to get yourself hurt by running around like this.”

“I don’t care about that,” Mike fires back, glaring at her.

Nancy can’t help the reflex as she draws up, spine ironed straight. “And when you get your friends hurt or killed? Like Will last year?”

She knows it’s wrong the second that she spits the words out of her mouth. Mike flinches, and the surprise that he’s even affected by her words is there, but distant and numb as guilt takes over instead. She can’t take it back though, and her jaw is clenched as the silence weighs down on both of them, the dark circles under Mike’s eyes suddenly heavier and more bruised than they had seemed before. He’s genuinely worried and it might have been clumsy and clouded by his resentment and animosity, but she’s pretty sure he was trying to ask her for help.

“Fuck you, Nancy,” he hisses, low and venomous, and, no matter what he was trying to do, it’s too late now as he turns on his heel, striding away. Nancy can’t stop herself from lingering and watching him go, his heels clicking on the stone floor, regret burning in her stomach. The only thing stronger than her guilt is her pride.

Cassie looks her up and down with a raised eyebrow when Nancy storms into Transfiguration, ignoring the look that Carroll sends her as she collapses into her seat, slamming her head into the desk regardless of how it makes her forehead smart. “Merlin, what crawled up your arse and died?”

Nancy turns her head to glare at her, and Cassie grins, nodding.

“Right, your little brother crawled up your arse and died. Now I remember.”

“You suck.”

“I know,” Cassie says cheerfully as she sets out her textbook, flicking through it till she settles on the right page. “So, come on, tell me what’s going on.”

“You want to know?” Nancy asks doubtfully, frowning up at the other girl.

Cassie sighs, shrugging. “I mean, not particularly, but it’s not like I usually get a choice. You just start whining in my general vicinity and your voice is so piercing that I have to listen.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Nancy curses, turning back so that her nose is smashed into the old pockmarked wood of her desk and she doesn’t have to look at Cassie’s infuriatingly triumphant expression.

“Alright, fine, I’ll lay off, just tell me. Your drama is surprisingly entertaining.”

Nancy sighs, finally sitting up properly and leaning back in her chair so she can stare at the ceiling. The lesson proper still hasn’t started, Carroll shifting papers at the front of the room, so there’s time for her to turn and look at Cassie. She can tell by the way that the smug smile slips off the other girl’s face that Nancy’s expression is grim enough to make her realise this is serious. “Mike and his little band of idiots are convinced that someone in the castle is helping Bauman get to El.”

Despite the fact that Cassie knew nothing about the happenings of the year before and the reality of El’s strangeness, she doesn’t question her for a second. “Do you think they have a point?”

She opens her mouth to deny on autopilot but stops before she can actually make a sound. Mike and El and the others might be paranoid after everything that happened last year, but she can’t deny that it makes sense for Bauman to go after El. They had thought about it on the train even if neither her, Cassie nor Robin had vocalised the worry.

“Maybe,” she concedes, “but not who they think.”

“Who?”

“Bauman.”

Cassie wrinkles her nose in dismissal. “Too simple. He’d never be that stupid. Half of Britain thinks he was in bed with Vecna, he would be the first person people think would help Bauman into the castle. He has to keep his hands cleaner than that.”

Nancy nods, a rush of vindication flooding through her. “Exactly. He prefers to let others do the dirty work.”

“Puppet master, not accomplice,” Cassie agrees, and Nancy can’t help but send her a grin. She forgets to appreciate it, sometimes, the gift of having someone who can read her mind quite as easily as Cassie does and never seems to care what she finds.

“So, the only question is who?”

Cassie hums in consideration. The only interruption in her usual bored mask is the slight wrinkle in between her eyebrows as she thinks. “They haven’t considered anyone else?”

Nancy shrugs. “Mike moved quickly from telling me what he thinks to accusing me of being wilfully unhelpful.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Cassie mutters drily. “It could always be a student. Someone close with Dark families who could be meeting with others helping Bauman in Hogsmeade. There are no wards there.”

Nancy grimaces. It’s a good point, one that the kids likely haven’t thought of. There’s only one problem. “Okay, but who’s most likely to fit that bill? Smart enough to not get caught and to make a big enough difference in the wards that do protect Hogwarts to get him in eventually. Or get El out. And resist the dementors.”

Cassie grins, humourless but rakish and sharp all the same. “Us.”

“Exactly.”

“You been secretly evil this whole time?”

“Depends who you ask. Not much secret about it.”

Cassie laughs, but its low and threatening instead of anything light and humour filled. “Not many people wouldn’t believe that we are in on it. Certainly, Mike would think we are. And his friends.”

“Maybe not all of them,” Nancy allows with a shrug, thinking of last year when Will had looked at her after everything, so lost and terrified, and Lucas had given her the most resolute look she’s seen on someone so small, asking her wordlessly to save their friend. Maybe some of them would remember. Cassie gives her a strange look but skates past it without faltering.

“Right. Anyone else?”

Now Nancy smiles, proper and wide, as she thinks of late nights in the library pouring over books about the Chamber of Secrets. “Yeah, I can think of some people.”

Carroll interrupts them by standing, abrupt and sudden, to begin the lesson as conversations die down quickly across the room. Nancy can’t help but look at Cassie out of the corner of her eye, the other girl slipping easily into her bored mask even as she takes the lesson in — too smart and ambitious to really tune out. She doesn’t want to put people in needless danger, but maybe Cassie deserves the truth this time around. Maybe she deserves more from Nancy, for all her loyalty, than just banter and shallow quips. Maybe she deserves some solid trust, shown instead of just felt.

————

Steve and Robin stare at her oddly as she pulls Cassie over to the Hufflepuff table with her at breakfast, but she doesn’t really give them time to say anything before she’s whispering under her breath whilst gesturing for Eddie to slide over as well.

“Cassie, go get Jonathan.”

Her fellow Slytherin rolls her eyes at being bossed about but does as requested, taking the few steps to needed to reach the Ravenclaw table and grab Jonathan by the sleeve, tugging him over.

“What the hell is going on?” He mutters, looking indignant, but falling quiet when he catches sight of the serious expression on Nancy’s face.

“We need to talk outside of the castle,” she insists, trying to keep the burgeoning fear out of her voice.

“Okay?” Robin asks, voice tilting upwards in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

“We can talk about it later. Three Broomsticks?”

They’re lucky it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and the rest of the group nods, varied expressions of bewilderment and concern etched into their features. Even Jonathan, with their limited engagement over this year, seems satisfied enough to go along with whatever Nancy is planning.

They break once they’ve agreed to meet at the pub at 1 in the afternoon, and Nancy rolls her eyes at the looks that they get from the rest of the school as Cassie and her return to the Slytherin table. It’s not like communication between houses is that weird or that there isn’t intermingling, but Nancy supposes she can understand that it would be a bit weird for a Slytherin to force some kind of huddle at the Hufflepuff table.

“You sure about this, Wheeler?” Cassie mutters under her breath as they lose themselves in the crush of people leaving the Hall after breakfast.

Nancy nods, resolute. “They were all part of what happened last year.”

“Ah, yes, the mysterious murders,” Cassie hums, smiling knowingly to herself.

“I’ll tell you if you want!”

“No, no, keep your secrets.”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “Merlin, you’re so fucking annoying. I’ll tell you before we go to Hogsmeade.”

Cassie grins triumphantly, as though that had been what she was angling for the whole time, and Nancy tries not to look too fondly at her. Nancy supposes that it’s pretty fair for her to be glad to finally be getting some concrete answers, though, considering some of the states that she’s seen Nancy in over both last year and this one. Sure enough, once they make it to the dorm, Joanna and Lucy nowhere to be seen, Cassie plants herself on her bed, crossing her legs and looking at her expectantly.

“Come on, then. Cough up, Wheeler.”

“Chill out, Chan.”

“Not a chance.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but mirrors Cassie’s position on her own bed, thinking for a moment as she tries to find the best way to sum up everything that happened in their third year. “Do you remember that old story about Salazar Slytherin and the rest of the founders?”

“What? About him peeling off?”

“About the disagreement between who should be at the school, yeah.”

“Well, yeah, then,” Cassie snorts, looking incredulous. “Everyone knows that.”

“Alright. But do you remember the bit where he supposedly builds a secret chamber underneath the castle?”

“Sure?” Cassie frowns, the divot in her brow only deepening when Nancy shrugs.

“Not so hypothetical.”

Cassie stares at her for a second before nodding slowly. “Okay, insane. But what was killing people, then?”

Nancy huffs a deep sigh. “Well, we thought it was a basilisk, but it turned out to be like a weird spirit of Vecna possessing someone and reaching the students through that.”

A stunned silence hangs in the air for a second as Cassie seems to process what Nancy is telling her before her jaw drops. “Who?”

“I don’t know if I can tell you that?”

Cassie scoffs, incredulous and indignant. “Oh, Merlin, Wheeler, really? You can’t just refuse to tell me something like that.”

“Fine, fine. It was Will. Jonathan’s little brother and Mike’s friend.”

“Merlin, he’s only a first year.”

Nancy nods, trying not to wince. “Yeah, it was really horrible. I don’t even know how Vecna managed to possess him. Mike and his friends were pretty light on the details, but I’ll force it out of them one day. But El managed to get it out of him, or something, and now he seems okay? I don’t know, I think Jonathan is keeping an eye on him. It didn’t seem like they would welcome my help.”

“Shit,” Cassie whistles through her teeth, looking more than a little shocked. Honestly, the other girl is so superious sometimes, Nancy can’t help but feel a slight bit self-satisfied with being able to throw her for such a loop. “You know, out of everything that I thought you could say to explain the whole Heir thing, I really didn’t see that coming.”

“Yeah,” Nancy hums, hopefully not too bitterly. “Neither did I.”

“So, why was Vecna killing people?”

She shrugs. “He said that he needed four for something. We never really found out what, but El says that there is some sort of other side, so I guess it was to unlock that? I don’t know. Things were pretty rushed.”

“What do you mean Vecna said?”

Cassie stares at her, piercing and heavy as Nancy realises the corner that she’s backed herself into . “Ah. Well, I guess he kind of tried to kill me at the end there?”

“What?”

“Yeah. Down in the chamber. But, you know, it obviously didn’t work.”

Cassie doesn’t laugh at the halfhearted joke, something intense in her gaze instead as it burns into Nancy. She shifts a little uncomfortably, rubbing at her neck. Nancy doesn’t like to think about how close it came or how little explanation she still has for however El was able to save her. Every time she’s tried to press Mike for answers, he clams up pretty quickly and all that had been said on the night was that El had been able to do it for as long as she can remember.

Some sort of link with Vecna is all that she seems to know about it.

“I did find out what happened to Barb, though,” Nancy says, grief hitting her in the chest like new as she stares back at Cassie. The two of them hadn’t really been friends but they had known each other. It feels odd, having to tell someone else what had happened, but cathartic as well, in a weird way.

“What do you mean? I thought she ran away?”

Nancy shakes her head, grim and resigned. “No. It was Vecna. He said that it wasn’t what he needed, or whatever, so I guess that she didn’t work for the ritual he was trying to complete or something, but it was him.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them sit in silence for a long, drawn out moment as Cassie swallows down everything that Nancy had thrown at her. Eventually, though, she manages to blink roughly and look back up at her, a strained smile pulling at her features. “I guess it’s nice to think that Barb didn’t give him what he wanted, though. I mean, like a ‘fuck you’ kind of thing.”

Nancy laughs, hollow and achingly empty. “Yeah. True.”

Cassie shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever apologised to me,” Nancy grins wryly. It’s not completely humourless but bordering on it. Cassie winces as she shrugs.

“I guess it’s kind of the time for it.”

“Yeah, well, you should stop. It’s weird,” Nancy declares as she surges up and off the bed, brushing herself down. She’s seized with a sudden need to do something with herself, like she can’t stand sitting and being motionless for one more second. Cassie watches her pat down her duvet with an unreadable expression.

“Do you think we should talk to your brother and his friends about this stuff as well?”

Nancy shrugs, more than a little helplessly. “I mean, yeah, but I don’t know what answers they’d give us, and I don’t know how to get them out of the castle to accomplish that.”

Cassie grins. “We could definitely sneak a second year out of this place, Wheeler, dream big.”

“No,” she snorts, “that is not a good idea.”

“You are such a spoilsport.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy grins, able to plaster some modicum of a façade up and over her still heart wrenching grief, feeling like some kind of chasm had been carved into her chest as she tries to push away the memory of Barb and of third year. “We can just fill them in later.”

Cassie pouts. “Much less fun than kidnapping a twelve-year old, but fine.”

“Mike is actually thirteen, thank you,” Nancy informs her primly, “so kidnapping him would be a much larger accomplishment than a twelve-year-old.”

The other Slytherin snorts, eyeing her with amusement. “Wow, way to focus on the important things, Wheeler.”

“Shut up and get your stuff ready, we should leave in a bit.”

Cassie rolls her eyes but acquiesces, and the two of them walk down to Hogsmeade as briskly as possible. The weather is at least getting warmer now, so Nancy doesn’t have to wrap herself in her warmest cloak. Instead, the walk is almost pleasant, and Nancy would be able to enjoy it if she wasn’t so stressed about meeting the others.

“Take a breath. I’ve got to get some new quills anyway,” Cassie scolds.

They duck into Scrivenshaft’s, Nancy trying to keep her scowl to herself. She’d rather just get set up in the Three Broomsticks before the rest of the group gets there, but Cassie is apparently filled with a serene calm as she peruses the options before her, eventually settling for a few new Self-Inking and Spell-Checking Quills. Nancy swears that she draws out the interaction at the counter just to piss her off. It would be a very in character move for Cassie, and she really can’t put anything past her.

Sure enough, when they finally leave Scrivenshaft’s, Cassie tries to make for Zonko’s, laughing when Nancy grabs her by the sleeve. “Absolutely not, we are going to the Three Broomsticks.”

“Merlin, you’re just so fun to mess with,” Cassie grins, brushing herself down and tugging her sleeves back into place as she acquiesces and follows Nancy to the pub easily enough. Nancy tries not to roll her eyes, aware of the flush creeping up her neck. It’s not her fault that she’s easy to fluster. “Desperate to see Steve?”

“That’s long over, Cassie, come on.”

“Jonathan?” She teases, raising a solitary eyebrow when Nancy shakes her head.

“Have you never heard of friendship, Chan?”

Cassie looks between the two of them very deliberately before shaking her head. “No. Never.”

Nancy doesn’t deign to even reply to that one as she rolls her eyes and ducks into the Three Broomsticks, Cassie’s laughter trailing after her as she follows. Thankfully, though, they’ve still beaten the others, so they’re situated in the corner with two Butterbeers by the time that everyone else arrives. Steve, Eddie and Robin come in together, Robin looking more exasperated by the second as Steve and Eddie lean into each other. She’s not sure how anyone could think that Steve and Robin were ever dating with the way that interact combined with how Steve and Eddie look at each other. It’s honestly a little disgusting with how sweet it is, and Nancy is sure that she isn’t imagining the huff of relief that Robin releases when she slides in to sit next to them.

“God, the walk down with them was just awful. It’s like as soon as they were out of the castle, something just took over them.”

“Poor you,” Cassie sympathises, screwing up her nose.

Looking at Steve and Eddie when they take their seats with their drinks, a flush dusted across both of their faces, Nancy finds its easy to believe, even if she feels a strange heat rising in her own cheeks as well. She tries not to attribute it to the way that Robin slots herself into her side, half-leaning into her space as she grins around at Cassie mischievously, but it’s difficult when her gaze gets stuck on every crinkle of Robin’s smile and crease next to her warm eyes as they screw up with joy.

Across the table, Steve raises his eyebrows at her and Nancy hurriedly cuts her eyes away.

Jonathan thankfully arrives to save her, grumbling as he grabs a chair from another table and pulls it up to the table, the whole group of them huddling closer together as one as they turn to Nancy, apparently waiting for the explanation of what they were doing here.

“Mike pulled me aside the other day. He thinks that Brenner is helping Bauman and that’s how there was an attempt to break into the castle a while ago.”

She watches as everyone’s jaw drops except for Cassie, who’s leaning back rather smugly in her seat at having been brought into the know first for once.

“Shit. Brenner though?”

“Yeah, I doubt that it’s him too, but that doesn’t mean that Mike has a point,” Cassie insists, nudging Nancy. She flushes a little more, glad for the backup even if no one is looking at her incredulously or disbelievingly. It’s funny to think that she had been nervous, that she had genuinely thought that the others wouldn’t jump on board, when they had all let her lock them in the library to help research last year.

If anything, this seems old hat.

Jonathan’s face crumples in thought. “I mean, I guess it makes sense that Bauman would need help to get past the wards.”

“So, we’re sure it’s not Brenner? Because if one of the teachers is going to be evil, it would definitely be him. Like, the dude oozes bad vibes.” Robin raises an eyebrow, looking around the table, grinning at the way that Eddie nods at her in agreement. Nancy doesn’t miss the way that Steve stifles a laugh, but catching the interaction between the two of them doesn’t make her stomach churn the way that it used to.

“I mean, not entirely, but it all feels a bit obvious, doesn’t it?”

Cassie snorts. “Brenner is far too clever to be the one helping him when he would so obviously need someone on the inside. It’s an open secret that he used to be a Death Eater.”

Steve shifts in his seat, looking unsure. “I mean, I can try and talk to Dustin if it’s just Brenner they think is in on it? He’s sort of the technical brains of their operation, but if someone is levelling big ideas, that’s probably Mike.”

His guilty look at Nancy only makes her laugh. She’s under no illusions about Mike’s tendency to get caught up in the big picture and pitching grand theories, nor about his apparent black and white worldview. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

“I’ll ask them at our next D&D session,” Eddie shrugs, “but I can’t promise results. They clam up pretty quick.”

“Good ideas, but I more wanted to talk about who else it could be,” Nancy presses.

“You’re sure someone is helping?” Jonathan pitches in, and Nancy cuts her eyes to Cassie. They’ve talked about this particular point enough that she knows how to take over.

“It makes sense. There’s no way that he could have made it past all of the wards and Dementors and patrols without someone helping him.”

There’s more to it and Nancy can’t help but lean forward, keeping her voice low. “When he broke in, though, he slashed through the painting but just tore down the bed curtains.”

“Well, he got the wrong bed?” Steve frowns, looking confused, but Nancy shakes her head.

“No, I mean, if you knew that you only had seconds, would you tear down the curtains or would you just move them and hit them with a spell? I think he wanted to wake her up not kill her. Besides, he disappeared when Max woke up and yelled. If all he wanted was to kill El, he could have fired off a spell then, but instead he ran, like he didn’t want to be seen or captured more than he wanted to hurt El.”

The table falls into silence for a moment as everyone chews over Nancy’s words before Robin shrugs. The movement jostles her from where their shoulders are pressed together. She can feel the warmth of the other girl even through layers of clothing, and Nancy can’t help the way that she stares at her as she speaks.

“I mean, if Nancy thinks there’s something else going on here, I’m with her.”

“Just like that?” Jonathan asks, but with the kind of wry smile that means he knows what the answer is. Nancy flushes, suddenly taken over by embarrassment. Cassie grins at her, raising her eyebrows at the way that Nancy’s ears are tinged with red.

Robin laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Basically. I’ve hitched my ride, dude. No point switching now.”

“I am not a horse, Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Eddie clears his throat, looking intrigued. “I mean, we could reform the Scooby-Squad?”

Nancy and Cassie exchange confused looks, meaning that it’s probably a muggle reference that goes over their head. She’s reassured to see that Jonathan, with his muggleborn father, looks equally lost, and that Steve shrugs, just as hopeless as they are. Only Robin laughs, eyebrows furrowing as she considers. Nancy makes a concerted effort not to stare at the divot that forms between them, or the way that her nose scrunches.

“Sounds fair. Newspapers or something. Figure out if there’s a connection we hadn’t realised.”

“Sorry, what are you talking about?” Cassie interjects, smirking at the way that Eddie and Robin both look flustered at the reminder that not everyone knows what they’re referencing.

“Basically just saying we should investigate Bauman. Maybe Nancy’s right and there’s a different motivation,” Eddie shrugs. Robin and Jonathan both nod, clearly satisfied enough with the idea of helping research. Steve, though, wrinkles his nose in the way that he always does when he’s about to make an excuse.

“How about you and Eddie focus on keeping an eye on the kids?” Nancy suggests quickly, smirking at the way that Steve deflates with relief. Books are not his thing, but he’s admittedly good at getting people to like him. Why not use that against the kids to make sure they’re okay? “I don’t trust them not to do something stupid and not tell us. Besides, Cassie can help in the library this year.”

“I can speak for myself, thank you, Wheeler. You don’t get to volunteer my services for me,” she grumbles under her breath, but nods when Nancy raises an eyebrow at her, challenging her to actually deny that she would help. “But, yes, fine. I’ll help the nerd squad whilst those two babysit.”

Steve looks vaguely offended, but his frown seems much less heated next to Eddie’s full beaming grin. Robin shoots Nancy a knowing glance, looking smug and satisfied. Jonathan notes the interaction, something odd flashing across his features as Nancy grins at Robin, and she’s filled with a strange sense of guilt at the way that he turns away, a slight twist to his lips as he does so. She’s not sure why, and she doesn’t owe Jonathan anything at the end of the day, but her throat goes thick with it anyway.

Apparently happy with their marching orders, they settle into a more casual mood in the Three Broomsticks, and Nancy can’t help but be caught off guard by it. A planning meeting is something she can handle, if with a little trouble, but she has no idea what to do with the way that Steve casually slings his arm around Robin, or the how Eddie leans into Steve’s space, eyes sparkling as he teases him. Even Jonathan, awkward as he is, seems comfortable and settled enough, laughing along with Eddie as he tries to explain what a Scooby-Squad. Everything just seems so easy for everyone else. Nancy feels like maybe there’s something wrong with her, for her to have to work so hard for every scrap and morsel of undue happiness she’s ever wrested from the universe. Like there’s some kind of glass wall between her and everyone else, completely unnoticeable except for the way that the muffle means she’s always a beat behind.

Cassie sighs next to her. “Lighten up, Wheeler,” she mutters, raising an eyebrow at her and clearly having noted the way that Nancy was shifting in her seat. “It is what it is.”

She blinks, stunned, and flushes bright red. Being spotted feels like a kick to the gut, but the tilt to Cassie’s mouth is friendly enough, and Nancy stays silent. She looks down at her hands for a moment, throat suddenly thick, before nodding to herself. She doesn’t exactly relax into the situation, but the knot of tension in the centre of her chest loosens just a little. It’s a nice afternoon, in the end, and she leaves with a sense of warmth spreading through her that isn’t just from the Butterbeer.

As the lot of them walk up together to Hogwarts, the sound of conversation and laughter snatched away by the wind as they make their way up the path, Nancy stares up at the castle. It rises out of the hills in a vision of looming grandeur but it’s home, more or less, and a pit opens in Nancy’s stomach. She doesn’t know what’s going on exactly, but she knows enough. Someone is helping Bauman, and there’s something that they don’t know. Nancy isn’t going to just let someone threaten the school. It’s more than wanting to protect Mike, or even El, who’s just an innocent kid caught up in plans and machinations from which she has no hope of escaping. There’s more to it — she’s got friends here, as strange as it feels. Nancy has people she cares about, and she’s not going to let anything stand in the way of protecting them.

Whatever it takes.

———

In the end, though, none of vows or resolutions mean a thing. Nancy is too late to make a difference.

Maybe if she’d been smarter. Maybe if she’d been braver. Maybe if she’d been anything other than so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t put the pieces together till everything was already in motion.

All the research and planning in the world doesn’t matter if she’s ten steps behind.

Waking up to a panicked Will Byers shaking her, Nancy’s heart is already in her mouth, aching and tasting of blood, before it plummets, her stomach dropping out completely. Like she knows what he’s going to say.

“They’re gone! They promised they wouldn’t but they have,” Will hisses, eyes wide. He’s stood at her bedside, still in his pyjamas, wild and unadulterated panic clearly coursing through him. Nancy is up in an instant, whipping her cloak around her shoulders and throwing a spare shirt at Cassie’s huddled sleeping form.

“Chan!”

“What are you doing?” Will hisses, but Nancy doesn’t even register it.

“Cassie, we’ve got to go now!”

It takes a couple of seconds, but eventually the other girl cracks her eyes open. She blinks at them, clearly confused, before evidently understanding that something had gone wrong. Cassie groans as she pulls herself out of bed, Nancy rolling her eyes in impatience as she gestures the both of them out of the dorm. The last thing that they need is for Joanna or Lucy to wake up.

“What’s happened, Will? What are you talking about?”

Nancy’s voice is hushed, but it feels deafeningly loud in the silence of the Slytherin dungeons as they descend the stairs, sneaking through the abandoned common room. Her heart stutters in panic at the sight of a figure stood in the middle of the room, but it settles with relief when they turn around and she spots Jonathan’s features in the firelight.

“I figured it wouldn’t be good if I was there and anyone else woke up,” Jonathan explains, an awkward expression flitting across his face, even in the urgency of the moment.

Clearly something had gone very wrong, though, if Will had come for both of them.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re gone,” Will tries to explain, hands flapping as he struggles. “They’ve gone to find Bauman. They think he’s in the Shrieking Shack.”

Nancy’s blood runs cold, but she doesn’t even have enough time to fall into panic as there’s a sound of footsteps against stone.

“Wheeler. Chan.”

The unmistakable sound of Billy’s voice makes every muscle in Nancy’s body go tense. He’s wearing a self-satisfied grin, practically oozing smugness as he stands at the top of the stairs, still in his shirt and tie.

“Go back to bed, Billy,” Cassie warns him, voice dangerously soft. He smirks at them, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think so. You need to stop sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Nancy volleys back, something in her chest twisting when Billy feigns confusion.

“Doesn’t it?” He asks, hand to his chest in surprise. He starts to descend the stairs, slow and threatening, and Nancy’s wand is in her hand in a heartbeat. “I’m not so sure about that.”

He doesn’t flinch when she brandishes her wand in his direction, instead just continuing to calmly walk towards them. It’s too much of a coincidence to have Billy crawl out to confront them in the middle of the night just when Will has come to get them.

Maybe Billy’s vague threats aren’t entirely empty.

“What are you talking about?”

He grins, clearly relishing the control. “I don’t know, Wheeler. You’re the fucking know-it-all. You tell me.”

Nancy can’t help the way that she scowls at him, familiar hostility rising in her chest, but it’s intertwined with the icy cold tendrils of panic. Before she can manage to retort anything, though, Cassie’s stepping forward. “Enough of the taunts, Hargrove. Spit it out or fuck off.”

“You don’t even know what you’re playing at,” he spits, his handsome if slimy grin morphing into an ugly expression of hatred and distaste. He really is a snake — the worst of them all — and Nancy feels a dreadful pit open up in her stomach just looking at him.

All of a sudden, she’s had enough of vague threats and playing at hostility. It’s easy, the way that the Stunning Spell slips off her tongue and, despite baiting them, Billy apparently doesn’t see it coming. The spell hits him squarely in the chest and he slips down the stairs slightly as his body freezes, caught mid step.

Nancy looks down at him, blank-faced even as cold hatred curls in her chest, and turns away as pointedly as she can. Billy is the least of their worries.

Will looks at her, wide and awestruck eyes shining even in the darkness, but Nancy presses him further as she and Cassie bundle the boys out of the common room. They keep their voices quiet in the echoey halls, but she needs as much information as she can as they rush out of the castle. “What do you mean they said they wouldn’t? Wouldn’t leave?”

“Yeah. I told them it was too dangerous. Like you and Jonathan and Steve and Eddie keep saying. But Mike was worried about El.

“How do you know they’re gone, then?”

“Lucas felt bad enough to leave me a note.” A note of bitterness creeps into his voice, shy and sad in a way that makes Nancy’s heart ache.

But she doesn’t really have time to dwell on it as they sneak out of the castle. Panic is driving her heartbeat now, the rushed thud, thud, thud, practically pounding out of her chest, and the images in her head of a broken and bloodied Mike get worse and worse with every pump of blood through her veins. He looks like Barb, in her head. Helpless, like she had been. Begging for Nancy to save him, like Barb had. Accusing and blaming when she inevitably falls short, like she always will. Nancy wishes that the surviving mental image she has of her best friend is one of her smiling, the sun glinting off her strawberry hair, but instead it’s one of wide and lifeless eyes, so much blood pooling around her broken limbs that her hair is more scarlet than strawberry.

Despite the fact they don’t have to wait for anyone else, she can’t help it once they’re out of the castle and on the grounds. She’s been practising all year, but something in Nancy still doubts when she clutches her wand and casts a desperate, “Expecto Patronum!”

She’s only read about this part of the spell in books, doesn’t quite know how it works, but Nancy has no choice. The silvery lion, bright and blinding and beautiful, springs out of her wand. It’s so ephemeral that Nancy almost believes that there’s no way it could ever really protect her from anything, but there’s an odd bundle of warmth in her chest as she looks at it anyway. The lion stands, and she only feels a little bitter as she looks at it, breath ragged and strained in her chest. “Go to Robin,” she says, and Nancy hadn’t even planned who she was going to send the message to, but it suddenly feels like it had to be Robin. Like there was never really any other choice. “Get whoever you can and come to the Shrieking Shack. The kids are in trouble. I think Bauman is coming.”

Jonathan shifts on his feet, looking at her curiously. “I didn’t know you could cast a Patronus.”

“We learned this year,” she says shortly, still battling with the guilt churning in her gut at the image of Barb. “With the Dementors and all.” Cassie looks at her knowingly, but Nancy manages to keep her chin aloft all the same.

“Makes sense,” he allows, something like guilt in his own eyes now. They don’t have time to dwell, and she’s glad when Jonathan swallows whatever seems to brewing in him, perhaps assisted by a cutting glare from Cassie. With Will, his eyes wide and despondent looking up at them, she can’t help but feel her heart pound an uneven patter as adrenaline fuels her. They have to keep going.

“Where did they go, Will?”

The boy frowns, clearly battling with something, perhaps loyalty to his friends and a sense of guilt at ratting them out. Clearly, though, the urgency of the situation registers enough with him for Will to cut his gaze further out to the grounds. “We heard about a tunnel through the Weeping Willow from the Shrieking Shack. It was in some old guy’s diary in the library. Mike thought it might be how Bauman got past the wards and into the castle.”

“So, it could be nothing,” Nancy tries to convince herself, nodding worriedly, even as she squints towards the Willow. No sign of the kids huddled around it or making for any tunnel. “Who knows if he’s even out there? Let alone if he’s there tonight.”

Neither of the boys look convinced, twin expressions of doubt etched into their matching features. Billy wouldn’t have tried to stop them if there wasn’t something happening tonight.

“Damn it,” Nancy curses, kicking at the dust. “They’re long gone. There’s no way we can catch them.”

“We have to try.”

“I know.”

Will bites at his thumb, looking worried. “The tunnel is at the bottom of the trunk, though. You could get hit.”

Nancy feels worry give way to indecision, but she knows that she can’t freeze. They can’t risk the tunnel, not knowing if it’s even real, and they can’t stay here. She looks around, gut churning, before she remembers the Quidditch field. A image of an early spring day, Robin’s smile brighter than any summer sun, and a joke about breaking into the Quidditch store cupboard.

“Come on, I’ve got an idea.”

Alohamora is a simple spell, after all, and the brooms are kept in a cupboard just off the changing rooms. It isn’t difficult to break the lock and grab four. Will looks at his doubtfully, but takes it either way. Jonathan glances at him, and Nancy’s sure that he’s about to tell him that it’s too dangerous and he should go back to the castle, but determination sets itself so firmly into Will’s features that it’s clear he wouldn’t be dissuaded.

They take off it almost complete silence, Cassie cursing under her breath as she struggles to get up in the air. Nancy doesn’t remember her being the best flier in first year, but she doesn’t even have the capacity to find it amusing right now, instead so single-mindedly consumed by the icy fear wrapped around her spine. The flight is short and quick, with the Shrieking Shack not that far away. Still, it seems to take an age, the space between every heartbeat lengthening and stretching as Nancy wishes and prays for her broom to fly quicker. It’s like the universe is laughing at her, instead making time slow around her until it feels like she’s flying through molasses.

The Shrieking Shack juts out of the hill, a lone blemish on the landscape. Nancy feels her heart in her mouth as they sneak in. The stairs, wrecked and rotting, are just about intact enough for them to climb up them, creaks from the upstairs sending jolts of icy panic through Nancy. Everything is covered in layers and layers of dust, so thick that Nancy doesn’t think that even running her hands through it would clear it all away, except for distinct footprints, ranging in size and weight, leading up the stairs from a tunnel opening in the corner.

Peeling wallpaper and stains line the stairs, which seem to practically crumble beneath their feet. The landing is dark, but there are clear noises of scuffling and shifting from one of the rooms, the only one with a door from the hallway cracked open.

Nancy has her wand clutched tightly in her hands — as a wizard, it should be all the defence that she needs, but she can’t help but feel under-equipped and underprepared. Still, there’s nothing else that she can do as Jonathan charges through the door, knocking it open with his shoulder but keeping his wand up as they all stream into the room.

This bedroom is even more choked in dust and rot than the rest of the house, the light from Mike’s Lumos spell illuminating the way that the motes of dust spiral in the air, kicked up by movement and forming mesmerising patterns.

She’s more focused on the figure huddled in the corner of the room, though, looking equally as panic-stricken as the rest of them.

Nancy has to be honest: whilst she may have been expecting to come face to face with one of the most notorious criminals in the wizarding world and a convicted mass murderer, she really hadn’t been expecting said convicted mass murderer to be wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers, a grubby undershirt and a dressing gown that looks more like a rag than any kind of garment.

With a snap, the man in the shadows closes the door behind them, the slam of the rotting wood sending a bolt of pure fear through her. She shoves the kids behind her as fast as she can, Max yelping as she scrambles to get her wand out of her pocket, but Nancy is already brandishing it ahead of her, steady and trained on the man’s chest. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung, brushing his shoulders with its greasy curls. His dark eyes gleam in his face, matte and shadowed like black holes, even behind his smudged and cracked glasses, and his skin is so yellowed and pale that he looks like a corpse.

Murray Bauman.

“Stay back,” Nancy spits, trying to make sure that her shaky voice doesn’t betray how scared she is. She can vaguely hear Jonathan behind her pulling the kids even further back to protect them, and she’s glad to know that they’ll at least have him to protect them after Bauman cuts her down. She’s grateful for the duelling practice — her wand hand doesn’t shake despite the fear blooming in her chest. This is it. This is where she dies. She just has to make sure that she takes Bauman with her.

“Jonathan, get them out of here.”

“No one’s going anywhere,” Bauman says, his own wand shaking madly. There’s a frenzied look in his eye. “You guys are my leverage.”

“Leverage?” Nancy echoes, trying not to let her voice shake. That implies that he wants to get out of here, not that this is the completion of whatever sick mission he’s supposed to be on. El is huddles behind Mike, dark eyes wide with shock and fear. If Bauman was here to kill her, why isn’t she dead already? The kids must have been here for long enough by now for a full-grown Death Eater to dispatch a couple of second-years. Still, Nancy can’t afford to give him the benefit of the doubt. “They’re never going to let a Death Eater out of here, no matter what.”

“I was never a Death Eater!” Bauman yelps, eyes wide in horror. “I was framed!”

Nancy doesn’t let her guard down even for a second, knuckles white from how tense her grip on her wand is. She swears she can taste every beat of her heart in her mouth. “Why would someone frame you?”

“Because I was spying on them! For Owens and the Ives and the Resistance!” Bauman rolls his eyes, like this is all obvious. It might be difficult to believe that the man before her is a murderer, but she certainly understands the ‘deranged’ part of his reputation. Still, there’s something honest about his earnestness, his complete insistence on the fact that he was never on Vecna’s side. Nancy raises an eyebrow, not lowering her wand for a second as she presses him.

“Why you?”

He scoffs. “Because I didn’t have a choice. Do I look like some kind of action hero? Owens had dirt on me. Besides,” and now he sighs, somewhat unhappily, “I had connections. My brother was linked to some of them, even if he never joined outright.”

Nancy scowls, her grip tightening on her wand. “Is that supposed to make me have more faith in you?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Max grinds out from somewhere behind Nancy. “He doesn’t even have a wand. Just listen to him, Wheeler.”

Bauman raises his eyebrows even higher, as if to emphasise Max’s point. Nancy hesitates, staring him down, before sighing and moving away slightly, though she keeps her wand handy. “If you even twitch, I’ll cut you into pieces.”

“Wow, and you really sound like one of the good guys,” Murray sneers, though there’s palpable relief on his face. His attention turns back to the kids, to El specifically. The girl shifts beneath his gaze, which has softened somewhat.

“You knew my mum?”

It’s nothing that they didn’t know already — Bauman was supposed to have betrayed the light side, was supposed to have hunted the Ives after knowing them, but something about the way that El says it makes her seem so small and lonely that Nancy’s chest aches.

Murray grimaces. “Doesn’t everyone know that?” He grumbles, though it doesn’t sound as hostile as he was before. His lips twist as he shrugs. “Yeah, I knew her. She’d be real proud of you, kid. You took down Vecna.”

Mike shakes his head, chin stuck out determinedly. “He isn’t dead.”

Bauman pales, and his lack of knowledge is maybe the best evidence yet that he was never a true Death Eater. “What are you talking about?”

“We think he’s stuck.” Mike’s gaze flashes to her, and she recognises his expression as one of guilt, purely because she’s seen it enough times. Nancy knows she isn’t going to like what comes next. “Stuck in some other kind of dimension, where he used to draw power from.”

“Merlin’s motherfucking balls,” Murray curses, kicking at some debris. Nancy raises her wand instinctively, and the man flinches, raising his hands in surrender. “Fucking hell, chill out! I’m good, okay?”

Mike nods at her, and, as reluctant as she is to take orders and cues from her little brother, Nancy lowers her wand once more.

“Why did you even come here?” She presses. It doesn’t make any sense. He had to know that people would assume he would come to Hogwarts, come after El. Sentimentality over Jane Ives doesn’t seem like enough.

Murray sighs. “I was supposed to sneak into the school and kill her, but I was just trying to warn Jane. Warn her that the Death Eaters were after her.”

“Why?”

“The Death Eaters broke me out,” Murray says, sounding miserable. “Azkaban sucked but at least I wasn’t a pawn anymore. For Owens or for Vecna. But they think I’m some Dark Lord fanatic who wants to blow up Hogwarts or something and I couldn’t explain otherwise without them killing me.”

“So, what were you going to do? Just go along until you got to the castle and then go ‘oops sorry turns out I don’t want to slaughter any innocent children?”

Bauman glares at her. “I was going to try and escape or go to Owens. At least he isn’t a murderer.” Some of the venom dissipates from his glare as he looks around unhappily at the rundown shack they’re all in, picking slightly at his clothes and running a hand through his straggly and unwashed hair. “I didn’t exactly have a plan but I was never going to hurt anyone, alright?”

Mike gives Nancy a hard look. “We believe you,” he says, though it’s more pointed than it should be. Nancy rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. She’s not sure why Mike has decided that Bauman is more of an ally than she is, but it doesn’t matter — she even loosens her grip on her wand a little. It’s clear Bauman isn’t going to jump anyone, but she’s still expecting a host of Death Eaters to emerge from the shadows. Being in the Shrieking Shack in the middle of the night is terrifying with the knowledge that there are people actively trying to get into the castle and hurt El.

It doesn’t matter that it makes sense that Bauman was never trying to kill El — the fear is still enough to clog Nancy’s throat and keep her fingers locked around her wand. It doesn’t matter that Bauman is a full-grown man and that she is a slight and narrow fourteen year old girl. She’ll do whatever it takes. She’s failed enough times before.

Before any of them can twitch, though, a creak from the floor beneath makes them all freeze.

Bauman grimaces, dread and horror making the sallow skin of his face seem even more shadowy and sickly. “Did anyone know you were coming here?”

Mike screws up his nose, about to deny it, but is interrupted by the way that Will shifts, looking guilty, avoiding the hard look that he must subconsciously know that Nancy is shooting his way.

“Nancy may or may not have had to knock out Billy.”

Max starts, looking surprised, before a smile creeps up on her face. Nancy can’t deny that she’s a little relived, even in these circumstances, to see it. She has no idea how to approach the issue of Billy with Max — the two of them may have been step siblings, but they didn’t seem to have anything in common besides a generally unpleasant demeanour. It’s just that in Billy’s case it was genuine, whereas Max just hates everyone not named Lucas or El.

“He deserved it,” Cassie mutters, breaking the tension somewhat. Jonathan nods along, an odd quirk to his lips considering the situation. Still, Mike holds up a hand with a glare, trying to silence everyone as much as possible as another long creak sounds through the shack.

“Shut up or they’ll find us,” he hisses, fear flitting across the kids’ faces, and Nancy remembers the footprints with a sinking heart.

It doesn’t matter how quiet they are. Whoever it is will find them in a heartbeat. And the muffled footsteps are getting closer.

“Hide!” She snaps at Bauman in a half-whisper, casting her strongest Notice-Me-Not spell over him. Nancy might not trust him, but she doesn’t want whoever it is to assume the worst. It’s barely enough to have someone’s eyes slide over him. There’s a solid chance that it won’t work. But Nancy has to try. Wide-eyed, Bauman scrambles back into the deeper shadow, throwing a cloak over himself. Nancy isn’t sure if it’s just the spell working too well, but he seems to completely disappear from sight now.

There isn’t enough time to throw the spell over the rest of the group too — Nancy has just enough of a second to have her stomach twist with guilt at the fact that she had prioritised Bauman over everyone else before the door to the bedroom is swinging open.

It’s not a surprise to see Billy standing in the frame, chest heaving with fury and eyes alight with anger.

“Billy,” Nancy says, before the rest of her words are cut off by a sudden pressure around her throat. He moves so quickly, such a physical force even without magic, that it’s only as she’s dragged backwards, heels scrabbling in the dust, that she realises what has happened. Her eyes strain with how she has to look to the very edge of her vision to spot Billy’s face above her, contorted with fury, as she’s unable to move her head due to his arm locked around her neck. Her hands scratch at his arm, but it doesn’t seem to even register with him as he grabs the wand from her hand and throws it away, holding up his own to pin the others in place.

“Move and she fucking gets it.”

“Billy, what the fuck are you doing?” Max spits, but it doesn’t take a genius to hear the undercurrent of fear in her voice.

“What I should have done a long time ago.” The words send a chill down Nancy’s spine, but she’s more concerned with the fact that she’s beginning to struggle to breath. She kicks at Billy’s legs, desperate and animalistic. Suddenly, she is twelve years old again and stuck in a broom closet, the darkness and the dust all-encompassing and never-ending. Suddenly, she’s thirteen and Vecna’s voice is echoing around her, and Nancy feels stupid for ever thinking that she could have left that place. The scraping of stone in his voice, threatening and otherworldly, something other than human in the way that his voice multiplies, surrounding her ad overwhelming her. Spots dance in Nancy’s vision and she is helpless again. Always helpless, always never enough to defend herself.

No amount of duelling prowess matters when your opponent is twice your size and has thrown your wand away.

But Billy has a wand pointed at her little brother and, as stubborn and wilful as Mike may be, she can still see the fear in his eyes, and Nancy swore to herself that she wouldn’t let this happen again.

Her lungs tight and airless for an entirely different reason than the arm’s grip around his neck, Nancy squeezes her eyes shut and holds her hand out. Desperate, she wills her wand into her hand — she’s never had a reason to try wordless and wandless magic like this, never really known anyone to manage it either, but she’s half-mindless and frantic. Barely even aware of what she’s doing, or the fact that she’s actually successful until the familiar smooth wood surface of her wand is once again clutched in her hand.

Her body reacting quicker than her mind, she has her arm stretched behind her and the tip of her wand pressing into the underside of Billy’s jaw he can react.

“Let me go, and then back the fuck up,” she spits, still straining against Billy’s arm.

He scoffs in disbelief and distaste, the rush of air brushing against her ear and scalp. Nancy tries not to shiver in disgust. “Fine, Wheeler.” Cruelty flickers in his eyes even as he backs away, and Nancy knows he’s still getting what he wants — they’re still scared of him.

Despite the pounding of her heart in her chest, she knows that she can’t give him that as well. “Come on, Billy, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Piss off, Wheeler,” he sneers, a curl of his lip and a flash of sharp white teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Slytherin?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Billy shrugs, mean and mocking and Nancy wishes she could punch him. “Give me Maxine and I’ll tell you. Better yet, give me Bauman.”

“Her name is Max,” Lucas spits out, fear still wide in his eyes, but his voice doesn’t shake. Billy glares at him, stepping heavily forward, and Nancy’s grip on her wand tenses. He’s not fucking touching Max or anyone.

“Another step and I’ll knock you out again, asshole.” Billy sneers at her, and something in Nancy’s blood turns to steel. “What do you want?”

“Bauman. I know he’s here.”

“Why would we have shit to do with Bauman?” Dustin pipes up, and Nancy really wishes he wouldn’t, based on the slow grin that creeps across Billy’s face.

Malice glitters in his smile as he leans forward, something threatening in the motion. “My info’s good. And Bauman’s a shitstain traitor. Just like you Wheelers.”

The comment rolls off Nancy — she’s used to similar comments being muttered to her whenever purebloods, regardless of house, decide to take issue with either her family’s status or her placement in Hogwarts. Mike, though, visibly bristles and steps forward as though to try and defend himself. Jonathan, thankfully, grabs his shoulder and pins him in place, though Billy grins at the fear that must show on Nancy’s face. It only makes her stand firmer, though. She’s not going to let Mike do anything stupid, and she’s not going to let Billy touch him. He’s not going to hurt any of them.

All too slowly, the pieces fit together. Billy had known the curse would be coming when he was on the stairs — he’d let it hit him, so that they would think he was out of the equation, and he could easily follow them. He hadn’t known where Bauman would be any better than them. The information he’s gloating about isn’t from whoever he’s working for, but from Nancy. Because he must be working for someone. And there is a perfectly good reason why someone would send Hargrove. Billy might be cruel and malicious and not much more than a puppet, but he isn’t stupid and neither is who he’s working for.

It's all so obvious when she actually thinks about it — between the sudden teaching vacancy, so that El could be kept close, and the way that he protected Billy for seemingly no reason, there’s really no one else it could be but Carroll.

“Fucking hell,” Nancy curses. “He’s the fucking distraction.”

Billy grins, gleeful and triumphant, and Nancy doesn’t regret it one bit as she whirls around and pulls her fist back, clocking him as hard as she can in his jaw. His head snaps back grotesquely, a crack resounding through the air. There’s a sick flicker of satisfaction in her chest but barely any time to revel in it, as there’s a flurry of movement. Billy had kept all of their eyes on the doorway, which meant that no one had notice Carroll emerge from the tunnel, and he rises now, brushing dirt and dust from his robes. His lips twist easily into a self-satisfied smirk that looks strange on his mild features but still suit him better than the false amiable smile he’d worn before.

He runs his hand over his bald head with a sigh, and the smudge of grime he leaves behind would be amusing in any other context. Instead, Nancy feels her stomach twist.

“Well. Isn’t this a sight?”

In the periphery of her vision, she can see the confusion flashing across the faces of everyone else as they try to figure out what Carroll is doing here, but any lingering doubt about what’s happening is dispelled by the eager way that Billy turns to look at him. “Sir,” he breathes, his tone nothing short of devoted. “I don’t know where he’s hiding, but I swear Bauman is here. I heard them talking.”

Carroll smiles, his teeth glinting grey like shards of flint in the silvery moonlight. “Oh, yes. Murray, you can hide, but your stink gives you away. Can’t wash Azkaban off you, I suppose.”

Billy laughs along, the sound harsh and grating in what would otherwise be dreadful silence.

In the corner of her eye, Nancy spots Mike’s hand drift to the pocket of his robes, his face set with determination. It casts his face in a half-shadow, though his eyes gleam through it, like shining beacons of grit and bravery and valour. Nancy feels dread soak through her bones, a chill that goes all the way through her. Before she can stop him, though, Carroll is already moving, his own wand out and flicking through the air, as graceful and purposeful as if it is simply an extension of his own being.

“Expelliarmus.”

Mike’s wand is out of his own hand and in Carroll’s before he can even blink. The professor smiles, slimy and cold and rotten. “Naughty. Do you think I’m stupid?” With a jerk of his head, he gestures for Billy to seize everyone else’s wands. As soon as he takes a step towards her, though, she grins and raises it just enough that he falters slightly. Scowling, he raises his wand to cast Expelliarmus instead, apparently deciding not to risk getting too close. Nancy is faster though, and fires off a Stunning Spell before he can manage.

The spell has barely finished tripping off her tongue before her own wand is flung from her hand, though, Carroll catching it with a sigh and a raise of his eyebrow. His lips curl into a snide snarl as he spits, “Merlin, you’re the bloody same. You would think you would at least learn from each other’s mistakes.”

Billy’s eyes flicker wildly as his mentor looks down at him and sniffs dismissively before turning back to the rest of them. It’s Jonathan’s turn to brandish his wand and try to hold the older man back, but he doesn’t even seem to acknowledge it. In fact, he rolls his eyes and seems to decide it isn’t worth collecting anyone else’s. Nancy isn’t sure if she should be flattered or not. “Where’s Bauman?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Nancy sneers, though her heart is pounding. She can feign courage all she likes, but she’s still facing a fully-grown wizard, and a Death Eater at that, with nothing. Not even a wand. And he doesn’t seem bothered by anyone else having theirs.

He tuts, looking bored, though there’s a slightly manic edge to his gaze. It’s odd to see his boring and uninteresting face wear such an expression. “I can just bring the Dementors instead. I’m sure they’d love to find Bauman himself. And take care of the rest of you. I know they had a particular interest in you, Wheeler, in the forest.”

Nancy’s jaw clenches and she almost bites through her tongue with the force of it. It feels cheap, now, the fear she had felt then. Somehow, Carroll’s smug leer has given it a false sheen, even in her memories. She can feel the weight of the kids’ gazes, but there’s no point in acknowledging them. She tips her head back instead, raising her chin as stubbornly as she can and letting an entitled smirk spread across her face. The same lazy, conceited and careless sort of malice that should come naturally to a Slytherin, even if Nancy has always cared too much. The hands balled into fists in her pockets reveal that much.

Still, everything is theatre.

“Go on, then. Go get them.”

“You think I won’t?”

Nancy scoffs. “I think you’d be stupid to. After all, if they can get me, what’s stopping them from getting you?”

Carroll glares at her. “I’m hardly defenceless. A Patronus spell is easy enough to cast whilst they busy themselves eating all your souls.”

“Do you really want to take that chance? Besides, you’re here for Bauman for a reason. I doubt Lord Vecna would be happy for you to come back empty-handed, wherever he is.” Carroll stiffens, and she’s clearly hit a nerve. Nancy can’t help but grin as she continues. “After all, he’s probably the only reason you’re at Hogwarts.”

“He’s not much of a teacher, yeah,” Dustin interjects, and she can practically hear the grin in his voice, even if she keeps her eyes locked on Carroll. “So, either Bauman knows something you need to know too, or he has something you want.”

Max laughs. “Shame he isn’t here then, shitstain. My brother led you wrong.”

Carroll’s eyes flit about the room. Nancy’s pretty sure Bauman hasn’t moved, but there’s no sign of him even though she knows to try and look past the Notice-Me-Not spell. So, Carroll certainly doesn’t see him, and she can see it on his face. Doubt. He’s not sure, all of a sudden.

“What is it that you need from Bauman?” Mike presses, insistent. “You’re a proper Death Eater. What does he know that you don’t?”

He couldn’t just be after El — he’d had all year to get to her. There was something else going on.

“The Ives girl,” Carroll sneers. “She could hurt Lord Vecna when no one else could. I was sent to watch. Bauman said he knew why she’s so special, but he had to show us himself. Besides, Jane Ives is the most famous person in the country. We couldn’t just kidnap her. People would notice.” He grumbles particularly bad-temperedly, as though he hadn’t exactly supported the idea that they couldn’t just do exactly what they wanted.

Nancy scowls. Whatever Bauman knows, they can’t let the Death Eaters have the information too. Especially because they’re right — there is something special about El. She’s seen it herself, with however El was able to save Nancy and Will last year. She remembers the sight of her, blood smudged beneath her nose, scarlet against the pale skin. Carroll grins at the looks on all their faces.

“Well, either way. The game is up now. No point in any kind of charade, so I may as well take the girl.”

His wand is up before anyone else can protest — if nothing else, Carroll is a proficient wizard, Nancy thinks to herself grimly. She supposes that the Death Eaters wouldn’t send anything less. Mike pushes El behind him roughly, something determined in the set of his jaw. Jonathan stumbles forward to stand beside Nancy, seeing as she is still wandless.

“You’re not touching her,” he says stubbornly, and he means El, but his arm is braced across Nancy’s front all the same.

Carroll’s smile spreads, slow and insidious. Some crawling, creeping threat. Fear lances through her, like icy fingers down her spine, like a leaden weight in her stomach. “That’s a lot of backbone for a raven. It doesn’t matter either way. Bauman or no Bauman, do you really think we’ll ever stop? Vecna isn’t dead and he wants Jane Ives! He’ll get her, in the end. You’re jus-“

He cuts himself off as his eyes go wide before he slumps to the ground, limp and unconscious, revealing Steve standing behind him, plank of wood in hand. Robin and Eddie are next to him, wide-eyed and scared. It feels like time has frozen, the lot of them all stuck in this bubble, separate from the rest of the universe. Like a tipping point.

Silence hangs in the air before Robin breaks it. “Did you forget how to use the Stupfey spell? I thought you were a wizard?”

“Can you shut up?” Steve bites out incredulously as he whirls around, hands on his hip. “I was panicking! What was I supposed to do?”

“I don't know, use your wand?” Eddie snarks, grinning. “Why are you swinging 2 by 4s about like an idiot?”

Steve’s response is cut off by Dustin barrelling into him at the speed of light, the air clearly punched out of Steve’s lungs from the force of it, but the older boy just grins and wraps his arms around Dustin in return. “Glad you’re okay, Henderson. Nancy’s message worried us.”

“What took you so long?” Nancy presses, her shoulders slumping as the fear drains out of her, but Robin just grins at her, so she knows that her gratitude is plain on her face. It’s a little difficult to keep the smile from off her own face when Robin looks at her like that.

“It’s a hell of a run, Wheeler! What did you expect?”

“You didn’t need to get them,” Mike huffs, folding his arms. “We can take care of ourselves, Nancy, we don't need you and your friends butting in on everything all the time.”

“There was a Death Eater trying to kidnap El and, by extension, kill the rest of us along with her,” Nancy retorts, raising an eyebrow. Mike scowls and looks away, and Nancy has to resist to shake sense into him. She has no idea why he’s decided to be so petulant about this.

“Can we focus on the fact that we have an unconscious Death Eater and his protégé to deal with?” Max points out with a glare at Billy’s limp body. “And where the fuck is Bauman?”

There’s an awkward clearing of breath and a flurry of motion as a sheepish Bauman is suddenly revealed, still huddled in the corner. Despite how skeletal and sunken his face still is, with his eyes like lifeless hollows in the shadows of his head, he looks almost harmless with a cloak clutched to his chest and a bashful smile pulling at his cracked lips. “Sorry. I, uh, thought it would be better if I stayed quiet.”

Nancy hums dubiously as she ducks to pick her wand up from Carroll’s fallen form. “How did you stay so hidden?”

“Your Notice-Me-Not spell,” Bauman says, but his gaze flickers across her face nervously. Like he knows that Nancy will be able to see the truth.

“No. There was something more,” Dustin pipes up helpfully. “A Notice-Me-Not isn’t that powerful. Even from Nancy.”

Mike grimaces at him, clearly annoyed that Dustin is helping her out. “Is it really that important? Don’t you think there are bigger things going on?”

Bauman sighs and shakes his head. “No, they’re right. And I shouldn’t have it anyway, even if I want to keep it.” He looks mournfully down at the bundle of fabric in his arms, something reluctant in his expression as he holds it out towards El. “It was your mum’s. An old family heirloom, I think. She gave it to me the last time that I reported back to her and Owens. I guess she knew I was getting scared. Thought that I was running out of time. And I was,” he confesses, laughing bitterly. It isn’t as humorous as it might be on someone else, his dark eyes glittering with clear regret.

Still, he sniffs, shaking his head, and continues. “Luckily, I had hidden it before I went to Azkaban. Guess no one found it before I broke out.”

“That was my mum’s?” El manages, staring at the cloak. She reaches out with a trembling hand, her fingers tangling in the fabric even with their unsure grip. Like she’s not sure what to make of such a thing, but she can’t let it go now either.

Bauman nods. “An invisibility cloak.”

“I’ve never had anything of my mum’s before.”

Mike visibly softens as he leans into his friend’s space, throwing an arm around her. El slots herself into Mike’s side, and Nancy is sure that she isn’t imagining the way that Will’s face falls. Jonathan sees it too, if the way that he places a heavy hand on his brother’s shoulder is anything to go by.

“It was Carroll the whole time?” She presses, and, when Bauman nods, something in Nancy’s chest snaps as she wheels round to face her brother. She knew that the facts didn’t add up, that there was something more going on, even if she never saw Carroll coming. “I fucking told you it wasn’t Brenner.”

“Brenner?” Murray screws his features up. “That dude’s shitty as fuck but if he’s a Death Eater I never met him.”

“How high up did you get?” El asks, serious and sombre.

Murray grimaces in protest, throwing his hands up in the air “I don’t know! Fine, yeah, maybe he was inner circle, but I don’t know!” Mike glares back at her, seemingly about a single degree of petulance away from sticking his tongue at her. He’s only distracted by the way that Robin clears her throat and raises her hand.

“Sorry, but what the fuck is going on? Why haven’t we killed this guy yet?”

Nancy stifles a laugh at the panicked expression that Bauman wears as Robin points at him. She shakes her head, trying not to look too regretful. “Apparently he’s not a Death Eater after all.”

“And Carroll was?”

“Yep.”

Steve glares down at Billy. “Should have figured Hargrove was his puppet. They were way too buddy-buddy.” Still, despite the anger that curls in his expression, lashing through his features, Steve’s face softens when he looks to Max. The guy is still her brother, Nancy supposes, even if he’s an awful guy. She can practically see the guilt in Max’s face for the rightful anger she might feel as she looks at Billy’s frozen body.

Jonathan sighs, wrapping a tighter arm around Will’s shoulders. “We should get out of here. It’s still after curfew.”

It’s odd, even if it’s true. With everything that’s happened, with how wrung out her insides feel after being flooded with such fear, it’s like something in the world should have changed to reflect the difference. Like a before and an after. Like two paintings of the same thing years apart. They have proper evidence and proof that the Death Eaters are still out there, organising attempts to get to El, to bring Lord Vecna back. There shouldn’t be something as trivial and mundane as a curfew to follow considering all that.

But, there is. The world might have changed but their responsibilities haven’t.

They pick their way through the secret tunnel that the kids had found — Nancy discovers that she’s very grateful that they had decided to fly instead, though the return journey means that her robes get covered in grime and muck anyway. Both Billy and Carroll are hit with enough successive stunning spells from the group of them that they are fully unconscious as Steve drags them through the tunnel. Nancy can’t really bring herself to be too sorry when Billy’s head hits a particularly large rock a little harder than ideal. Eventually, they clamber out of the tunnel entrance at the other side, the Whomping Willow’s branches still thankfully frozen. In the midnight navy sky, the crescent moon hangs perfectly, casting gleaming silver light across the castle grounds.

Wordlessly, the group of them circle up, Billy and Carroll’s bodies discarded in the middle. Bauman shifts uncertainly next to El, who leans into the man like she’s possessed by a new and sudden affection for him. Nancy supposes it’s reasonable, considering the fact that he’s the best and only link she has to her past right now, but it’s not an ideal one. Nancy is already trying to figure out how to explain that Bauman is going to need to get out of here sooner rather than later when Dustin clears his throat.

“So, we need to decide what we are telling the teachers.”

“What do you mean?” Mike scowls. “We shouldn’t say anything.”

“Carroll has to be dealt with, Mike,” Nancy points out reluctantly. She doesn’t particularly like the idea of handing him over to the rest of the Hogwarts staff either. They hadn’t protected anyone last year and hadn’t, apparently, been able to spot a Death Eater amongst them and amongst the students. Nancy doesn’t think it’s overly cautious to believe that there is a chance that Carroll hadn’t been the only one.

Mike looks like he’s about to protest but twin glances from Max and Lucas apparently silence him. Lucas leans into his space, his hushed whisper still audible. “She kind of has a point, Mike. Sorry.” Mike doesn’t glare at him, but he does sigh before nodding.

“And what about Bauman?” Robin asks, her eyes darting awkwardly to the bashful man lingering on the outskirts of them. “I get that he’s apparently not a Death Eater, but I doubt the whole country is going to believe that.”

“Owens will help me,” Bauman says, though he doesn’t look happy about the idea. Still, trepidation gleams in his pitch-dark eyes as he stares up at the castle. The bright moonlight does nothing to lessen the sallow tint to his skin or the way that it’s stretched tight over his gaunt cheekbones.

Cassie scoffs. “You can’t go through the castle. It’s barely a good idea to have you this close. There’s no telling when the Dementors might appear.”

The shiver that seizes Bauman at the mention of the Dementors is enough to prove her point. Nancy might have been able to cast the Patronus once, but there’s no guarantee that she would be able to again; she’d rather not have to rely on her ability to do so.

“So, what do we do?” El demands, her childish features set into a remarkably serious expression of determination and reluctance.

“If Owens protected him before, and will protect him now, he doesn’t have to actually see him to do that,” Cassie points out calmly, before brandishing the borrowed broom still clutched in her grip. “He can just leave. Go back through the passageway to escape the wards and then just fly away.”

Mike and the rest of the kids make a host of various incredulous noises, and even Nancy can admit that it’s a little coldly delivered. “Jesus, man, tell us what you really think,” Eddie mutters, but it’s with enough of a smile that Cassie doesn’t glare at him too harshly.

Nancy just raises an eyebrow at Cassie as she jumps into the fray. “I think what Cass meant is that he’s better off out there rather than here. Everyone thinks that he’s going after El. There are Dementors at the castle and the train stations and probably a trace on his wand, so he shouldn’t Apparate. But no one can track a borrowed Hogwarts broom, and Owens could get word to him about where he’d be safe.”

There’s a beat of silence as everyone considers what she’s saying, before Dustin smiles a little humourlessly. “You have to admit, that’s a good point.” Mike grimaces, like it might physically pain him to side with Nancy about something, but he nods too.

“How is that different to what I said?” Cassie hisses at Nancy, her scowl deepening at the way that Nancy scoffs at her. Next to them, Robin can’t seem to help the soft laugh that slips out as she mouths the word ‘tennis’ at Nancy, who just flushes.

“That okay with you, dude?” Steve asks awkwardly, as though they hadn’t just casually been discussing what best to do with the wanted criminal hovering over them. Bauman shrugs.

“I guess I don’t have much choice,” he grumbles, but he looks relieved at even the smallest idea of freedom. Nancy’s not sure how long he had been hiding in the Shrieking Shack, but that was no type of life for anyone to live. At least this offers him a chance, even if it puts him right back under the thumb of a man who had thrown him away as soon as Bauman had lost his use.

El frowns for a moment, her dark eyes like storms. But something in her face falters as she looks back at Bauman. She hands him the bundle of fabric still clutched in her arms with a desperate sort of finality. Like it’s something she wants to embrace and deny in equal measure.

“Here. It will help you run.”

Bauman stares down at the invisibility cloak for a seemingly endless beat before shaking his head, mouth twisting with a conflicted sort of smile.

“No, it’s yours. I’ll be fine.”

El’s eyes are wide as she blinks, confused and disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

For the first time, Bauman’s smile melts into something real and soft. “Yeah, kid. I’m sure.”

After that, there is only for Bauman to take the offered broom in Cassie’s outstretched hand, a resigned set to his jaw. El watches, torn, as he shuffles back into the passageway, watching as the closest connection she has to a real explanation of what her mother was like slip way. As soon as he is gone, El rushes away, her usually solemn face twisted and screwed with emotion. Mike is after her in barely a fraction of a second, but she holds up a hand. He stops dead, looking lost and abandoned as she walks off alone, a tiny figure in the expanse of the endlessly deep night.

Jonathan smiles awkwardly as he leaves to traipse back to the Quidditch supply cabinet and return the rest of the brooms. She watches him go only slightly bitterly — running off to save the kids doesn’t solve the lingering blame in his eyes. The worst part of it all is that she genuinely believes Jonathan would try not to hold it against her. He blames her for the way that Will suffered, alone, and he blames himself for the way that Nancy suffered in the Chamber. But he would try to forget it all if Nancy asked him to.

She can’t force him into such a trap, so instead she turns her back and walks away. The bitterness only worsens as she catches up with her little brother.

“We are going to have a very long conversation about secrets, Michael Wheeler,” Nancy comments mildly, viciously enjoying the way that he pales. He shakes his head though, sticking his chin out stubbornly in the way that he always did when he knew that his back was against a wall. In the way that she does.

“I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“Language,” she scowls, hitting him in the back of the head and rolling her eyes when he yelps. All the annoyance at the secret-keeping is lessened by the sheer relief that fills her lungs with every breath at the fact that he’s okay. “And, yes, you do, or are you forgetting that I keep having to save your ass?”

“I never asked you to do that,” he retorts, scowl deepening. “You didn’t have to come down there. Just leave me alone.”

“Then stop almost dying every year, Mike,” she spits back, genuine anger rising in her chest now. It’s not about her having to save him — Nancy would go to hell and back for her brother without question. She just wishes he would think things through, or trust her, like he almost did last year. She had thought that they would move on from this strange pervasive hostility after all that they had survived, after the summer under their parents’ constant hard anger. Instead, it’s like he’s pulling even further away, more and more convinced that no one is on his side except his rag-tag group of friends.

Mike glares at her, though there’s something more desperate about it now. “What was I supposed to do? I thought he was going to hurt El.”

She sighs, jaw clenching. It’s a plaintive statement, almost petulant. Mike suddenly looks younger before her than he has all year. “I’m not saying that you didn’t do a good thing looking out for your friends, I just wish that you would let me help.”

“Oh, yeah, and snitch to Mum and Dad?”

Nancy pins him with a harsh glare, anger rearing back up in her chest, hot and thick and choking her throat. “Did I do that last year? When Will was possessed and people were dying?”

“That wasn’t his fault!”

“I’m not saying it is!” Nancy shouts, pinching at her nose. This wasn’t going right. She felt like her insides were being worn down, weary and exhausted and suddenly very scared at what was going on around them. “I’m saying that I stuck by you then and helped you solve the problem, and I don’t know why you didn’t let me do that this time!”

Mike scowls, churlish and sulky. “I don’t need your help.”

Something in her snaps at his pointed tone, at the memory, rising unbidden in her head, of him accusing her of killing Barb. Grief hits her all over again, fast as the Hogwarts Express, and Nancy can’t stop the glare that settles on her features nor the way that she bites out a retort. “Fine. Next time, you can get yourself killed for all I care.”

Mike scoffs, storming ahead. Will looks after him worriedly, but it’s Dustin and Lucas who rush after him as he catches up with El just as they all reach the castle. Hopper, perhaps aware of their absence and having seen them walk across the grounds, is already waiting for them in the entrance hall. “Hopper!” El cries, rushing forward. The kids all stream after her, the whole story bubbling out of them easily and freely. Nancy is left in the wake along with Steve, Eddie, Robin and Cassie — the four of them seem to be as lost as she is. Nancy had no idea that the kids trusted Hopper so much.

Though he nods and is listening, Hopper seems more concerned with just looking at them all, worry pinches at his eyes as he surveys the kids, like he’s checking for injuries. When his gaze falls on Nancy and Cassie, something shifts, a coldness taking over and a level of accusation that pushes her onto the defensive. “To the dungeons, Wheeler, Chan. I’ll walk the kids and take care of Hargrove and Carroll.” It’s clear that he blames her as he levitates the two of them before him — whether it’s for attacking a teacher, knocking out another student or putting the kids in danger is up for debate. He doesn’t address Steve, Robin or Eddie either but nods at them instead, a clear instruction to go back to their own houses as well.

She doesn’t miss the way that he softens as El leans into his side, and he drapes his cloak over her shoulders. There’s a tenderness there behind the rough exterior, but it isn’t rough when he looks at her. It’s brittle and hard and full of blame. Maybe it’s just the lingering memory of the Dementor attack that stops him from sending her straight to Owens’ office. The rest of the castle may not mention the whole Heir business much, but it’s clear that Hopper hasn’t forgotten. Isn’t as willing to let sleeping dogs — or, maybe in this case, snakes — lie.

Steve whistles a breath past his teeth. “What crawled up his ass and died?”

“Yeah. You’d think he was the one who just faced off with a Death Eater,” Robin jokes, and it only falls a little flat.

Eddie just deflates, glaring at Nancy with no venom behind his eyes. “Is this going to become an annual thing? Because that wasn’t in the contract last year.”

“It’s not my fault! And there was never any last year.”

“Yeah, but would I be freezing my balls off in my bloody slippers — which I mean literally, by the way — if it wasn’t for you?”

There’s nothing behind it, but Nancy flinches anyway. It had been a long night, and the interaction with Mike had only worn her down further. Robin gives Eddie a glare, because she sees the way Nancy curls in on herself. Maybe she always has, but that’s something to wonder about another time. “Come on, Nancy can’t help Carroll being a Death Eater. Or Bauman deciding to show up. Besides, you did nothing. At least Steve hit him with a plank.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughs before the levity leaves him and he sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he tips his head back to the ceiling, something fondly defeated in them when he turns back to face the rest of them. “And I guess it will be an annual thing as long as Mike Wheeler is a fucking idiot.”

Nancy snorts, giving into the amusement curling in her gut rather than the anger festering in her throat and twisting in her stomach. “So, what, we are going to be doing this till we are old and grey?”

“Assuming we don’t die in Mike-related incidents before then, yes.”

Steve chuckles. “He’s something. Dustin’s the one who’s giving me wrinkles, though. From all the disapproved frowning.”

Robin gives him a scornful look before giggling. “You’re such a mum, it’s hilarious.”

“Fuck off,” Steve grumbles, but he doesn’t deny it, and Nancy can’t hold back her laughter. Something in her heart, shaky though it is, warms at the feeling of being here, with these three people. Even with everything, maybe she’ll still always have this.

Eventually, they have to split up, unable to keep shivering in the Entrance Hall. Nancy tiptoes as quietly as she can through the dungeons, though each step seems to echo hollowly against the cold stone. The similarities are so great that suddenly she is thirteen again, with blood dripping from her shaky curled fists and fear and anger pumping through her veins with every terrified thump of her heart. This time around, Nancy isn’t nearly as scared, now that this isn’t in the wake of the horrifying void with the grating, scraping, dreadful voice and the images of Barb, shattered, that she still can’t recall without having to blink tears away. Besides, she has Cassie at her side this time.

“At least you didn’t kill anyone this time around.”

The laugh that Nancy lets loose surprises even her. “Can you shut up? You’ll wake Joanna and Lucy.”

“At this point, those two would only be marginally more surprised to find you covered in blood than I am. They still think you’re the Heir.”

Nancy snorts. She’s getting better at moving past the bitterness that fact brings. After all, there are bigger things than what the rest of Hogwarts thinks about her. She tries not to dwell on the image of Robin’s crinkled eyes and warm smile, but it settles stubbornly into her head all the same. “Well, I am not covered in blood this time. Maybe only metaphorically. And so does half the castle.”

Cassie smirks. “The rest of them are confused about how you went from murdering psychopath to normal well-adjusted student.”

Nancy fixes her fellow Slytherin with a deadpan look in the mirror, a smile beginning to curl at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t think anyone is considering me well-adjusted.”

“True,” Cassie conceded with a tilt of her head. “No one should.”

“Fuck off.” Nancy splashes water at her as she shuts the taps off, moving to dry her hands. Cassie hisses in protest, remarkably cat-like as she brushes herself down, frowning at the imperceptibly small droplets of water now drying on her robes. She can’t help but laugh softly, even if this all feels far too routine. Half of it is the bickering with Cassie, something that has always been old hat, but there’s so much less of the weariness that Nancy had felt this time last year. It’s like turning a corner and beginning to see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Maybe, even though she’s still weighed down by everything that Carroll had said, and still filled with the knowledge that she’ll never quite be what anyone wants her to be, things are getting better despite it all. No one died this time. Carroll may have tried, but there are no bloody and fractured corpses to haunt Nancy’s dream, no threatening, spine-chilling voice to narrate her worst fears.

Maybe things are getting better for real, Nancy lets herself think. Let’s herself hope, as she remembers the feeling of being in the Entrance Hall with Robin, Steve and Eddie, so small in the aching grandness of the space, but a warmth in her chest all the same.

It might still all be her fault, but maybe that’s less important than she always believed.

Cassie snorts, breaking Nancy out of her thoughts. “I must confess that I think I was much smarter last year by staying out of it all. Watching Harrington hit Carroll over the head with a plank was hardly worth freezing my ass off.”

Nancy grins. “Someone’s precious. Is your pureblood constitution a bit delicate?” She tosses it over her shoulder as she pulls her pyjamas on and slips into bed, Cassie’s scowl darkening the whole corner of the dorm.

“I hate you and have no interest in your exploits, murderous and bloody or otherwise. Next year, you can fend for yourself.”

“Aww, Cassie.”

“Goodnight, Wheeler. I hope you have horrible dreams.”

“You’re still my favourite, Cassie, don’t be jealous.”

“Oh, Merlin, go fall down a well, Wheeler.”

———

Carroll seems to disappear relatively easily. Nancy considers demanding answers about what’s been done with him from Hopper or Owens but eventually thinks better of it. There’s a whole host of reasons why she could be punished for what happened that night, even if Carroll turned out to be a Death Eater. Better not to force the issue and do what she can to find out the truth without cluing in her involvement to anyone else. Besides, Hogwarts is one of the most important wizarding establishments in the country — it tutors and protects the children of every single magical family in Britain. The Ministry and the papers will hardly let the mysterious disappearance of one of the teachers lie as long they are encouraged to ask the right questions.

A couple of anonymous letters from her and Cassie later and the headlines are all about Carroll and his suspected ties to the Death Eaters — Owens is forced to release a statement that Carroll had been turned over the Ministry already. Whether or not he’s telling the truth is up for debate, but Nancy can’t think of a specific reason he would lie. After all, protecting Carroll when he’d clearly been discovered would be a pointless and counter-productive endeavour.

Billy disappears just as easily, though with much less mystery: Max explains that his father had pulled him from school the second that he had heard about what happened. Apparently, Hargrove Senior was just as cruel and malicious as his son, so none of them were hardly under any illusions about the likelihood of Billy facing any consequences for his actions.

Max, despite all her fierceness and fire, seems to wilt as the year comes to an end. Clearly, she’s dreading the idea of returning to life with her stepfather and stepbrother: Nancy can only imagine that the events of the year would make the two of them worse. It means that she isn’t surprised when Mike stiffly asks her to help convince their parents to house Max for the summer. It’s not like him and Max are the closest, but Mike is loyal enough to his friends that it doesn’t really seem to be a question of if he’d offer but if the rest of the Wheelers would agree. Even given the frostiness between them since the night in the Shack, Nancy can’t find it within her to begrudge him something like that — besides, the only person who she would really be punishing would be Max.

She isn’t that cruel.

Their parents protest but there isn’t much they can do in the face of their children’s unified insistence and the truth of what Max would face if she returned home. So, their eventual relenting isn’t much of a surprise, even if they treat Max awkwardly from the minute that they all disembark from the train. It all makes for a tense summer, saved only by the occasional parties that the whole family is forced into. At least then she can see Cassie. Even the Harrington’s sometimes make appearances, with Steve always looking disgruntles with the stifling dress robes he’s forced into.

Robin sends letters as usual, with tapes clumsily wrapped in paper and tied to the Wheeler family owl’s leg. Each word, Robin’s warm voice pouring through, is like a break of sun through cloud. More than once, Nancy finds herself wishing that Robin didn’t have to live her life as one of two halves: muggle and magical. Unbidden, images of Robin lounging across the grass of the massive lawn of the manor flit through her head, the summer sun baking a golden glow into every inch of skin, her smile wide, lazy, and languorous. Like molasses.

Nancy can practically taste the sweetness.

Max being at the house means that Mike’s friends visit more often. Snatches of their laughter are easily heard, and the sound of footsteps echoing through the halls. Nancy’s mother and father bear it all with resignation and distant irritation, but it makes Nancy feel oddly warm. Usually, something like this would only remind her of all the happiness she isn’t entitled to, but not now. Instead, all she can see is the unguarded happiness that Mike wears when all his friends are here. It’s easily missed in a castle so large when the gulf between them stretches so wide, but it is unavoidable now. There’s no anger or bitterness at the easy way that he seems to glide through the world, compared to the edge of too-much ambition and sharpness and want that people always seem to identify in her. There’s just a strange softness, something that might be foreign to her before now.

That doesn’t stop the cold way that Mike sometimes looks at her, when he remembers she’s there at all. Neither does Dustin’s occasional eagerness for her to demonstrate a particularly complex spell for him, nor Lucas’ hawk-eyed watching of her and Mike’s Quidditch practices, when he decides to join her. Even Will’s careful smiles, like an acknowledgement of the strange link between them after everything in the Chamber, don’t seem to move Mike.

Nancy might be changing, or softening, but that doesn’t matter if no one believes it.

Chapter Text

The news of a Death Eater teaching at Hogwarts ignites more of a fire than Nancy had anticipated. Perhaps it had been foolish of her to dive straight into exposing Carroll, but she’s not sure what other option there had been.

All that the Prophet had published at first was the fact that Carroll had been a Death Eater, but soon it was uncovered that he had been after El. That there had been a plan and intention. For most of magical Britain, it’s the first sign that Vecna’s followers are still organised. Still even out there at all. After everything, people had been happy to believe the idea that El surviving Vecna and his disappearance meant that it was all over — the Death Eaters, Vecna, the fear. They had wanted to accept that they were safe now, that the problem had gone away without anything having to change, without any challenges being made to the way things worked.

Nancy should have known that the sudden announcement that Death Eaters are still actively trying to achieve Vecna’s goals would have triggered something bigger and messier than just finding out what Owens had done with Carroll.

Her father spends most of the summer out of the house. He’s always worked a lot, but this is different. The Ministry is pretending like everything is okay, like the problem has been dealt with, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that they’re scrambling. No one knows what Carroll being at Hogwarts could mean for the Death Eaters and for Vecna — when Mike does try to raise the issue, to suggest that maybe Vecna has always been out there, their father just shuts them down with a blank look and an automatic dismissal. Like he doesn’t even hear them. It makes anger and worry lick at the inside of her chest in equal measure. And when he is home, he is emptier than before, his gaze sliding past all of them as he buries himself in rolls of parchment in his office, candles and fireplace left burning all night.

Nancy’s worried, and she isn’t the only one. The dinner parties and galas that she’s dragged to begin to change as the summer goes along, the mindless discussion that Nancy pretends not to pay attention to shifts to darker issues, the language of war and terrorism wrapped up in terms of government and policy. They think that none of the kids notice, but Nancy does. Steve looks more and more tired at each and Cassie’s careless smile gets easier and easier to see through. The rumblings get louder, the whispers get more blatant. A door has been opened, and now it can’t be closed. The news that Death Eaters are still working, throughout magical Britain, changes everything. The murders in Nancy’s third year had been publicised, of course, but Will’s possession was still a closely guarded secret between those who had gone down to the Chamber that night. As far as the rest of magical society is concerned, the murderer was suspected to be the Heir of Slytherin, labelling themselves as such, but had never been caught and had stopped killing. It wasn’t solved, but it was done. This, instead, is a ticking time bomb. Darker families get Darker, Lighter ones get Lighter. The Wheelers and other neutral families have to pick a side of the coin to land on, and Nancy doesn’t know what it means that she isn’t sure which face will come out right side up.

It isn’t obvious, but it’s clear that lines start to get drawn. Even tentatively, even just with the whispers of Vecna’s possible return. Nancy has a sinking feeling, a pit of dread opening up in her stomach every time that she dwells on it. She knows that Vecna is still out there, somehow. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that even the barest hint of his return splits the wizarding world. She doesn’t know exactly what the kids had been talking about when they half-explained El’s link with Vecna. How he could still be out there.

Nancy’s not sure how. She just knows that he is.

Reporters seem to spend the whole summer hounding El, who apparently goes to Hopper’s for the break. Blurry photos of El shielding her face with her arm, scowling towards the camera become commonplace, usually accompanied by bold headlines that declare that El must be lying, as the Ministry would never allow the hiring of a Death Eater. Every time she spots the paper pinched between her father’s fingers, the pages flickering as the image moves and shifts, Nancy feels her heart pang. El doesn’t deserve this. She’s just a kid. Besides, it was her and Cassie that reported Carroll. El had barely had anything to do with it.

Considering everything, even with how complicated she knows it could be now, the prospect of going back to Hogwarts still fills Nancy with both more joy and more trepidation that it perhaps would have before. Even with Max at the manor, the English countryside around her all summer is both stifling and lonely, like a never-ending pressure on Nancy’s chest that makes her feel like breath is hard to come by. Her father can’t seem to stand looking at her and, whenever her mother manages it, her eyes overflow with guilt and pity. Being at home, where they had spent so much of her childhood, brings Mike a little more back to the person that he used to be — with Max around and the other kids regularly visiting, they spend baking afternoons in the sun, soaring through the summer sky after each other on their brooms. Nancy passes it off to herself as Quidditch training for the new year, but there’s no real point in lying to herself: she does it for the rare opportunity of being graced with her brother’s still present kindness and loyalty.

Maybe Mike never changed. Maybe he was always the same. Maybe Nancy just stopped deserving him.

At the end of the day, even though he still hasn’t really forgiven her for the end of last year, he’s still her little brother. Nancy would suffer all the scorn in the world from him if it means he can be safe. She would come get him every single time. Sometimes, Nancy tries to match his hostility: he can play the hero all that he wants, Nancy wants to scoff to herself. She’s the reason he’s alive. But that feels empty when his gaze skates over her like she’s not even there. Like she’s already a ghost. At the end of the day, she just wants to know why he has decided that she’s the enemy.

Still, it’s difficult to forget that Hogwarts, home to the next generation of magical Britain, the only school of the future generation of their world, will always be a battlefield when it comes to hearts and minds. She’s half imagining Slytherin as a Death Eaters boot camp when she returns.

The mood on Platform Nine and Three Quarters was more sombre than in previous years. The pureblood families seem to huddle closer together, their grip on the shoulders of their children tighter and firmer than before, as if their influence could literally be transmitted through brute force. Muggleborns keep their heads low, eyes fixed on the ground, as if they could go undetected just as long as they don’t lock gazes with anyone. It’s not hostile, but it’s much more tense than Nancy has ever seen it before, and it feels strange to see the train pouring soot and smoke from its engine just as always. Its cheerful scarlet body is exactly the same, and the peeling letters on its face declaring its destination to the whole world sent a strange wave of bitterness through Nancy. Hogwarts is her home, no matter what. It’s where she spends most of her time, where she has her friends and her life. But Hogwarts isn’t perfect. It might be an escape from the loneliness of home, but it isn’t the castle that makes her feel like she belongs.

A warning whistle sounds before she can spend too long dwelling on it, and she’s dragging Mike and Max onto the train as quickly as she can. They disappear from her grasp almost immediately, streaming down to the other side of the train in search of a compartment. Nancy sighs as she watches them leave before she fishes out the letter that she had received a few weeks ago. Honestly, it isn’t necessarily a complete surprise that she’d been selected as a prefect, though she isn’t sure about how the rest of Slytherin will take a supposed blood traitor representing the House with the new tensions, but there isn’t anything that Nancy can really do to change it. It's more that she just wishes she’d been overlooked — Cassie would have been a far better pick in Nancy’s opinion.

Still, the green badge gleams up at her, its shiny green enamel polished to perfection, the imperious silver ‘P’ embossed boldly across it. Nancy sighs again, pinning the badge to her robes and heading down the train towards the prefect carriage at the engine end of the train. At least she didn’t have to spend the whole journey down there, though she isn’t looking forward to patrolling — sticking her nose in people’s business is not exactly the kind of thing Nancy is trying to add to her reputation.

She doesn’t really have a choice though, so she slides the door to the prefect’s carriage open anyway, grimacing at the way that everyone turns to face her seemingly as one. Nancy shifts awkwardly on her feet, glad when she spots Grace lounging in the corner. As she heads over there, keeping her eyes low, she spots the knowing look that Grace and Sebastian Rourke, her prefect partner, share knowing looks.

"Hardly a surprise when you got your badge, I guess?" Grace grins at her, Sebastian chuckling to himself. Gideon Cythorne from Nancy’s own year stands with them, looking half-asleep, though he hums and nods when Sebastian elbows him gently. Nancy can’t help but smile at the way that Grace rolls her eyes at her — she and Sebastian aren’t exactly close despite being prefects together last year, but she’s been teammates with the older girl for years and suffered through more than enough conversations about her almost combative crush on Declan. Still, Nancy can’t even say she really knows Gideon, but that’s better than the alternative sometimes — at least he isn’t like Tommy and Carol, or Billy, taking shit out on kids who haven’t done anything to deserve it. She couldn’t work with that.

Nancy shrugs carelessly. "I thought it would be Cassie, to be honest."

Grace snorts. "I guess, but I think you’re underestimating yourself, Wheeler. Seeker, dueller, top of class? Of course you’d get picked."

Nancy laughs, hoping it doesn’t sound as hollow to them as it does to her own ears. She’d rather just keep her head down, but building up your walls and your reputation apparently comes with consequences that Nancy hadn’t foreseen.

"Hey," Sebastian starts, a slow smile spreading across his features, "at least people might not talk back to the prefect when they’re also the Heir, you know?"

Nancy tries not to freeze, shrugging the comment off with a smirk and a tilt of her head. She hates that she’s still having to play the role to keep people from finding out the truth. She had hated it then and she hates it now, and the worst part is that there’s no real solution. There’s no world where Nancy can pass off this blame, can wash the stain of accusation and suspicion away, because at least people are looking at her and not at Will. "I guess we’ll see," she says instead, and Grace just shakes her head at her in fond exasperation.

Gideon rolls his shoulders back, yawning widely before he turns to look at them all. Nancy might not know him very well, but she recognises the glint of curiosity in his eyes, a slightly vicious tilt to his smile. The entitlement and casual cruelty. "So, what do you think of the news about Carroll?"

Silence hangs between them for a second before Grace snorts disbelievingly, her voice a lazy and contemptuous drawl. "Come on, Gideon."

"What?"

"You know what. Half our families are in positions that mean we can’t tell you what we think." Grace is talking about Ministry positions, occupations in society that mean a comment from one of their kids is bad press for them. Still, there’s undertones to it — none of them can really betray their parents if they were part of it or knew Carroll. If they’re Death Eaters too. It’s a stupid and obtuse kind of question and Nancy can’t help the way that she frowns at Gideon, distaste making her lip curl and her nose scrunch. She doesn’t like how he shrugs carelessly or the blasé way that he leans back.

"Just interesting is all. Not surprised that it happened."

"I am," Sebastian snorts. "Carroll was hardly professor of the year material, but I’ll stand on the Slytherin table and take a shit on a plate if Owens purposefully hired a Death Eater. He was hardly an ally of Vecna’s. But I guess the Ives kid could be lying. Maybe she’s scared that her spotlight’s fading."

Nancy hates being in Slytherin sometimes — hates the idea that she’s in the middle of the snake pit, of the lions’ den. Hates having to think about whether the disdain in the older boy’s voice is because he hates Owens or Carroll. Hates having to wonder if the same people who give a kind smile are the people who want Robin and Eddie dead. Hates having to question if Sebastian might be the kind of person who would shove El into Vecna’s arms for the promise of a ‘better’ world, free of breeding imperfections and muggle influence. Hates having to pretend that it was El that exposed Carroll. It hurts her to give a shrug and indifferent tilt of her head, but this is about surviving. About making sure the others survive too. That means not showing her cards.

She’s glad when more people arrive, interrupting their conversation, and she’s not really surprised when Jonathan walks in with his new prefect partner, Jemma Hart. He smiles awkwardly at her but doesn’t approach the huddle of Slytherins in the corner, where Declan and Sophie Raynards have joined them, making up their entire house contingent. House policy is to stick together outside of Slytherin spaces — whatever divides them does so behind closed doors. Outside of the dungeons it is Slytherins against everyone else. So, Nancy isn’t surprised that they circle up without a word, but she is a little taken aback by how easily she is brought into the rhythm of things. The smile that Declan, usually the unreadable type, sends her makes a warm feeling erupt in her chest. Slytherin is a much smaller house than Gryffindor or Hufflepuff — especially for Nancy’s year and the few above. It is only now that more kids were filtering into Hogwarts after the baby boom that had followed Vecna’s disappearance. So, Declan isn’t exactly a friend, not exactly close, but he’s her Quidditch Captain and she can’t deny that his presence, along with Grace’s, sets her at more ease than she would have expected.

It’s a double edged sword though, too, and Nancy has to force the lingering worry out of her head about how much she likes being welcomed into something she’s supposed to reject.

As soon as everyone is assembled, the Head Girl, Rowan Fiddlewood from Hufflepuff, steps forward, a genial smile on her face. Her Head Boy partner in Gryffindor’s Albert Potts stands behind her, arms crossed as he watches everyone. Nancy wants to roll his eyes at his officious glare, but she figures that probably a bad way to start this. At least until Grace leans into her space and whispers exactly what she was thinking. A sharp elbow from Sophie and a warning, if a little amused, glare quiets them both.

"Hey, everyone. Welcome to the fifth years, welcome back everyone else," Rowan starts, though it’s with the kind of wry eyebrow raise that means she knows not all of them really care that much about this. Sure, being prefect would be some people’s kind of thing, but Nancy’s not looking for any new ways to stick out, and people like Grace have never cared about lording power over people that she hasn’t earned or achieved herself — for her, being prefect isn’t that. Nancy herself doesn’t want anything that marks her as favoured. Besides, underestimation is always more useful than anything else. She’s trying to walk a tightrope between using her reputation and sandbagging.

The meeting is generally pretty boring, running through patrol routes and inducting the new prefects into the way that they wanted things done. She ends up walking right next to Jonathan as they leave, their shoulders knocking as they both try and make it through the door. Jonathan stares at her for a second once they’re out in the hallway, everyone else filtering out around them, but Nancy nods and turns on her heel before he can say whatever he wants to say. Jonathan had pushed her away first, she reminds herself. She’s just saving him from having to pretend that he never confessed that he blames her for what happened.

So, Nancy walks away and she ignores the ache in her chest that comes from the fragment of Jonathan’s expression that she had spotted before she turned, the regret and remorse practically pouring out of him. She pretends that it doesn’t hurt to turn away, trying instead to convince herself that she’s just doing what they both want. Jonathan had been her friend. She just wants to respect him.

She pushes the gnawing worry away, making her way through the hallway with her trunk until she spots Cassie, Robin, Eddie and Steve in a compartment together. The smile that pulls at her cheeks is impossible to ignore, and even harder to suppress, washing away any thought of Jonathan as it takes over her. Cassie gives her a knowing, smug sort of smile as Nancy slides the door open, squeezing into the compartment.

"Thank Merlin you’re here, Wheeler," she sighs dramatically, mirth sparkling in her eyes. Nancy almost thinks that they’ve accidentally given Cassie a sense of humour over the years. Certainly a personality that isn’t just being pretentious. She smiles wryly to herself, raising an eyebrow as she settles into the seat next to Cassie, Robin opposite her.

"Why are you so grateful for me all of a sudden?"

"Too many Hufflepuffs," Cassie retorts dryly, waving a dismissive hand at the rest of the compartment’s occupants. The protests that erupt are amused in the relaxed kind of way that soothes the ragged edges of Nancy’s nerves after such a tense summer — the type that don’t come from people scared for their place in the world, for what might happen to them.

"Merlin help you, Cassie, Hufflepuffs? That’s truly awful."

Robin smiles at her as Nancy settles in her seat, a content kind of smile, even if the edges curl upwards with interest. "Where have you been?"

Steve crows with laughter before she can respond, finger pointed at the shiny badge pinned to her robes. His teasing is delivered kindly, with an edge of pride, or something along that line."Prefect carriage? They made the Heir a prefect?"

"Shut up, dingus," Robin scolds him, though there’s a hint of mirth too in the way that she turns back to Nancy, like she’s just as entertained by the idea, even if she’s nicer about it. Nancy finds that she doesn’t mind so much. Not like if it was someone else talking about this kind of thing. No one here genuinely thinks she’s a murderer. And, at fifteen, it’s weird enough that anyone even does, and a testament to the willingness of people to label outsiders as culpable for any wrongdoing.

She shrugs, smiling mildly as she leans backwards. She’s not interested in revealing much about the whole prefect thing. She’s surprised that Steve didn’t get a badge last year, though he’s Quidditch Captain for Hufflepuff this year, so she doubts he cares. Besides, her visit to the prefect carriage seems to fade almost instantly as she looks at the girl sitting across from her.

Not seeing Robin over the summer had made her think that she can handle the odd wanting that had struck her so firmly outside the Great Hall last year. Nancy is an intelligent person, she rationalises to herself in the dead of night, staring up at her ceiling in the deathly quiet house. She remembers how it bowled her at the time and convinces herself that it seems childish now. She has other concerns, much more important things to worry about in the scheme of things. She doesn’t get crushes or have feelings like that.

All of that changes as she locks eyes with Robin, and whatever the feeling is seems to increase tenfold.

She remembers, suddenly, the tapes. Nancy’s pretty sure that the hard edges and corners of the Walkman are worn into her skin, the shape of it fitting perfectly into all of the divots and bends of her palm and fingers. It’s nice to have a piece of Robin with her — that’s what it feels like. Every tape is a rectangular window made of plastic and ferric tape into Robin’s soul and Nancy feels shamefully greedy for every scrap she can claim. Every beat and chord is another puzzle piece to add to the jigsaw, the picture coming slowly together at Nancy’s fingertips. Halfway through the summer, Robin had apparently run out of music, and language instruction tapes had begun to worm their way into the packages Robin sent. Nancy recalls being confused when she had first spotted it amongst the usual tapes as she tipped the open package into her hand. She had poured over the letter Robin had sent with the parcel as she slotted the tape into the music player with undeniable curiosity and slipped the headphones, ratty and worn now, over her ears. The smooth paper that Robin uses is still always a novelty, though Robin’s rough scrawl is intimately familiar every time.

Nancy feels her breath catch in her chest now just had it done then as she had read Robin’s words accompanied with the soft voice which had emanated from the headphones, the elegant lilt to the syllables a hazily familiar sound. Nancy’s father has business contacts in Europe, so the French coming from the tape hadn’t been jarring, but something in her world still seemed fundamentally shaken as she had scoured over Robin’s letter.

Nancy,

Wasn’t able to find many tapes I thought you’d like this week — can’t bring myself to buy that many pop tapes. Figured I’d send the French one, though, since I’ve listened to it way too many times anyways. Who knows, maybe you can learn and make yourself seem even more pretentious? Plus, you need more previews of what will be left to you after I bite it, right?

I have more if you like it but no pressure.

Also, your request for more Madonna has been heard and firmly ignored. I regret introducing you to muggle music. Stick to the Weird Sisters.

Robin.

Affection had shone from the words, enough that Nancy remembers feeling a little breathless. Her cheeks had flushed, and it had been an odd sensation, to feel so strangely vulnerable and observed in her bedroom, all alone with a firmly closed door. Maybe it had been the strikingly intimate way that she can see every hesitation mark in Robin’s writing, every ink splotch and smear of black-stained fingers along the margin. She thinks now, though, that it had been more the way that, even with the clear pronunciation and enunciation from the man on the tape, laying out the syllables and sounds of the French language, Nancy could still imagine every word in Robin’s voice. She could practically hear the way that the elision would sound coming out of Robin’s mouth, could trace the shape of the vowels and the guttural ‘r’s in her husky rasp.

Now, at the sight of Robin before her, familiarly bashful and sheepish, Nancy feels almost disorientated. It’s like every time she tries to remember Robin’s face, she forgets some specific and special detail. She thinks perhaps she could dedicate a lifetime to mapping out every millimetre of Robin’s features: the curve of her nose, the crease in her brow, the swell of her bottom lip. She imagines soft sibilant sounds, in a silky accent, pouring out of that same mouth and blushes bright scarlet.

Robin gives her a curious look as she clearly gets lost in thought as she remembers the incident, and Nancy vows to drown herself in the Great Lake the second they reach Hogwarts. She’s glad for the way that the train speeds through the countryside, shades of green and yellow and blue rushing past the window: it gives her something to look at beside the way that Robin’s hair tickles her shoulders now and that her jaw has sharpened. It’s still the same gleaming eyes as in first year, but the face framing them makes her heart pang in her chest now, and Nancy has a horrible sinking feeling about that.

Steve and Robin’s conversation hums pleasantly in the background like static as Nancy lets herself slip into a half-sleep, drowsing as the train chugs along. Eddie chips in, loud and brash and cheerful, and she smiles even as she filters the noise out. She had missed this over the summer: the gentle and easy peace of existing around these people. Cassie sends her an uncharacteristically soft smile, like she can read her mind, and Nancy knows that, if she could, Cassie would understand exactly the feeling.

The Sorting Hat’s song at the Welcoming Feast is much darker than usual, tales from the past and warnings not to repeat history. It feels discordant coming from a rip near the brim of a magical hat, but it sends a shiver down Nancy’s spine anyway. Cassie sends her a look, eyebrow raised, and Nancy doesn’t need the words to understand what she’s saying. It doesn’t get more heavy-handed than a caution from a hat, after all.

Even Grace looks wary as she turns to them, corners of her lip quirking downwards. "What the hell was that?"

Nancy shrugs. "Maybe Gideon had a point." At the questioning looks from the two of them, she can’t help but scoff. "Maybe the whole business with Carroll is more significant than a lot of people would think. Sweeping it under the rug is hardly the answer, and hardly benefits us either."

Grace winces even as she nods. She had been right on the train about it being dangerous for them to talk about this, but so is Nancy. Ignoring the fact that Carroll had made it into the castle is just going to mean that, whenever and however everything erupts, they’re just going to be caught off-guard. Better to know and be prepared than be surprised. The buzz around the Hall about the song settles almost the second that Owens flicks his hands and the food appears on the plates spread across the tables. Nancy resists the urge to snort — incredible how easily people are distracted sometimes.

There’s not much conversation as they eat, with only Declan, sitting across from Grace, leans across the table to let the two of them know when he’s planning to hold try-outs. They had only missed out on the Cup by a handful of points last year. Nancy shifts in her seat, worried that it might mean that her position as Seeker could be under threat, but the smile Declan sends her settles her slightly. She’s been on the team for two years, Nancy reminds herself. It’s rare for someone to come forward with enough talent to replace the starting Seeker unless that Seeker seriously lacked skill. Nancy knows that she doesn’t. She had spent half the summer on her broom, long enough that there were new patches worn into the handle of her broom from all the ways that she had clutched and grasped at the wood, practising manoeuvres and sudden stops until the sun hung low in the sky and red bled across the horizon.

She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that everything is going to be fine. Quidditch will be just as usual, and so will Hogwarts in general — this is a school, after all, and no matter what is going on outside the castle walls, they’re supposed to be safe here. The reassurance doesn’t do much to settle Nancy, doubt still burgeoning in her chest after everything that’s happened before, but going through the motions does. This is just another Welcoming Feast, like usual. She’s been through this year after year after year. Whatever’s come up, they’ve faced. And she’s not going to let Mike and the others find themselves in trouble again.

Everything’s going to be fine. It has to be.

As the Hall finally begins to quiet, drowsy and full students dropping cutlery back to their plates with a clatter and leaning back in their seats, Nancy turns back to look at the staff tables. She’s expecting Owens to rise for his usual start-of-term notices, but instead a reedy, sandy-haired man, with a sparse moustache hanging over his lip, places a hand on Owen’s shoulder and gets up instead.

He approaches the lectern with a smarmy grin, something like smugness glinting in his eyes. He clears his throat as he stands, looking over the assembled Hall. "Welcome, students. I am Professor Pericles, your new Defence Against the Dark Professor and Deputy Headmaster." Brenner is still sitting at the table, though, Nancy notices. Pericles quickly explains that he will take the newly vacated Transfiguration post, and Brenner doesn’t even flinch, his icy eyes as cold and unreadable as ever. Nancy can’t help but watch him as Pericles continues to speak, his voice dripping with condescension and arrogance. The older man seems to suffer through it all with a half-smile that gleams with polite interest and curiosity, as though he was any other colleague.

"I am greatly looking forward to being here at Hogwarts after working in the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry has always been of the belief that education is the one of the most important purviews of our government. You young witches and wizards are the people who will shape our society for years to come. The importance of guiding you in the right direction cannot be understated. The gifts that our bloodlines have been blessed with need careful instruction and nurturing. There is much that we can learn from our history, and it is important that we give that the emphasis that it deserves rather than ignoring those lessons for the sake of blind progress that would only lead us into danger. Our traditions, passed down from generation to generation, give us rich heritage and magical knowledge. We must, therefore, strike a balance between these two driving forces: the old and the new, custom and diversity, principles and progress."

Behind Pericles, Owens’ eyebrows have climbed so high that they’ve practically left his head, whilst Hopper is scowling deep enough that his whole face is cast in shadow, his features turned up in sour distaste. The lecture continues for a surprisingly long time, a dragging sermon chock full of barely-veiled propaganda that sends half of the Hall to sleep. Eventually, Pericles draws up, looking around at his weary audience with a thin-lipped smile.

"The Ministry knows that there are all sorts of odious rumours swirling about this prestigious and storied institution. Whatever you are being led to believe, it is a lie. Hogwarts is safe, as is Britain. As are you. The Ministry has stamped out those which threaten our way of life, those who might divide us. But they give us a valuable reminder to cling to our heritage and to hold on to the inheritance that defines our society."

Owens rises, cutting him off before he can continue, though Pericles seems to accept the interruption easily with a mild smile and a short bow towards the students. Nancy turns to Cassie, the other girl already opening her mouth, likely with a quip on the tip of her tongue, but Owens yells a dismissal before she can say anything. Cassie laughs, gesturing for Nancy to go ahead when she gets up, rolling her eyes as she calls the first-years over to her. It’s a little jarring to be surrounded by pale terrified eleven-year-olds — Nancy can’t help but think about all the ways that Hogwarts hasn’t measured up to the expectations she had back then. It’s odd to think that she was ever that small, or that scared, though the scared part never really went away thanks to Mike and El and the others.

When they step into the Slytherin common room, Nancy unconsciously braces herself, like she’s preparing for the worst. But, of course, everything is just as it was the year before. There may be more tension and rumblings of conspiracy and division, but it isn’t like blood supremacists just reveal themselves at the first sign of Vecna and Death Eaters still being out there. A tree doesn’t sprout in a day — Nancy just has to watch for the first sign of grass peeking through the cracks in the pavement.

Once she’s shown the first years where the dorms are and got them settled, Nancy traipses back to her dormitory, sighing as she collapses back onto her bed. Cassie grins at her from the other side of the dorm, but doesn’t say anything, her eyes flashing to Joanna and Lucy sat on their own beds.

"Good summer?" Nancy asks casually, keeping the smile on her face as mild as possible when Lucy sends her a curious look.

Joanna shrugs. "Pretty normal. My dad was gone the whole time though."

Nancy raises an eyebrow. She knows Joanna’s dad works for the Ministry — she just has no idea which department he’s in. Cassie catches the movement and nods, leaning back on her own bed as she pretends to sort through her books and flick her eyes over to the other girl distractedly.

"Yeah?" She hums, and Nancy almost has to stifle a laugh. "That’s shit. Why?"

"The Ministry blew up with everything that happened with Carroll. Don’t know why. It’s not like Coleman can do anything about him."

"What do you mean?" Lucy frowns, though she’s picking at her nails in a way that makes it clear that she really isn’t listening, unlike the way that Cassie’s eyes narrow at the blasé and indifferent slant to Joanna’s words.

Joanna scoffs dismissively, raising an eyebrow. "Come on. He’s an idiot."

She has a point, Nancy admits wryly to herself. The Minister is pretty useless, and it’s difficult to believe that Carroll was ever hired unless he had help. So, there has to be someone in the Ministry who knew who Carroll was, but that couldn’t be Coleman. Joanna isn’t talking about that, though, from the way that her nose wrinkles with distaste and disdain. Nancy slashes her gaze toward Cassie, who’s already got a knowing glint in her eye.

"Fair enough," Cassie laughs instead, perfecting the dismissive lift of her chin and careless shrug, like it all means nothing to her. Like regardless of what is going on in the world, Cassie is entitled enough to know she’ll be fine at the end of it. It’s the position most of their house is in, and the Chans might genuinely be one of those families. Cassie is different though, Nancy knows. She’s more in the mould than Nancy ever had been, but she’s different.

Joanna and Lucy fall into their own hushed conversation full of girlish giggles and stifled laughter, and Cassie wanders into the bathroom, cutting her eyes towards Nancy and jerking her head in a clear gesture to follow. Nancy grins, faking a yawn and a stretch before meandering after her.

"Subtle," she mutters to Cassie as she sidles up next to her at the sinks, their gaze meeting in the mirror. Cassie snorts unselfconsciously, raising an eyebrow. Nancy sees the undercurrent of worry in it, though. They both know they have to be more careful now. Joanna and Lucy might be cruel and shallow most of the time, but there’s more to the issue than that — she can feel the lines being drawn already. The two of them are never going to go against the status quo, and their families were both suspected of following Vecna in the past.

That won’t change this time around.

"Pericles, huh?" Nancy mumbles around her toothbrush, watching Cassie pat her face dry with a towel and grinning at the way that she snorts into the fabric.

"Worst speech I’ve ever heard. Including all of Owens’. I never thought I’d say that."

"Illuminating, though. Incredibly boring but illuminating." It was obvious why Pericles is here, even if the specifics aren’t clear yet. The Ministry must be scrambling if they think there’s enough need to send someone to do damage control here. She gets what it needs to look like from the outside — that they have enough of a grip over Hogwarts and over the Death Eaters to keep the nation’s children safe, but Pericles hadn’t talked about the outside world. He had barely touched on the idea of their safety. Instead, his lecture had been stuffed to the brim with reminders of the rich traditions that their society relies on. It isn’t difficult to make the connection between Pericles’ speech and the growing demands for registration of muggleborns, for stricter acceptance measures into Hogwarts, for a return to aristocratic practices based on blood purity.

Cassie hums, staring at Nancy through the reflection in the mirror. "Ministry control after Carroll?"

"Something like that, I bet. Maybe they want to keep a better eye on the teachers. Like Brenner."

"Maybe they want to keep a better eye on El," Cassie challenges with a raise of her eyebrow. Nancy shrugs, watching her closely. The Chans aren’t too different to Joanna’s family, the Dunforths. Cassie might have more of a moral compass and backbone than either Joanna or Lucy, but her family might have expectations of her all the same.

"The parties," Nancy starts tentatively, and Cassie is already nodding.

"Carroll changed things. People know there’s something going on. It’s not surprising that the Ministry is trying to involve itself. Wizarding Britain is too small for Hogwarts to not matter, especially with El here. "

The confirmation that it isn’t just Nancy, that she’s not just being paranoid, settles her slightly. Like a soothing balm against the ragged jagged edge of her nerves. It doesn’t change anything, but it makes the beat of her heart in her ears a little quieter, the rush of blood a little easier to breathe through.

"Have your parents said anything?"

Before her eyes, Cassie wilts like never before. "Not really. Not specifically," she claims, eyes darting, and voice hushed. No matter what they do, they'll be in hot water if either Joanna or Lucy overhear them. Still, Nancy isn't foolish enough to miss the tension in her friend's voice, the harsh line of her shoulders. She's pretty sure she knows that the Liu's have made their expectations perfectly clear to their daughter. "But I know what side they’ll fall on."

"No chance they'll surprise you?" Nancy tries asking, more than a little gloomily, but they both know the answer to that as Cassie nods, stubborn and scared at the same time. Nancy takes a harsh breath, the sudden intake of air making her chest pang and ache.

"So, let’s hope that things don’t get any worse then. We don’t need sides."

The other girl raises a grim eyebrow. "It’s not going to be that simple, Wheeler." There’s more affection and fondness in that word than there ever used to be, even when the rest of her words are couched in apprehension and dread.

Nancy sighs, shaking her head as she turns to face Cassie properly. No mirror or glass in between them. It doesn’t make the fear or the worry any clearer, but it does make something tighten in Nancy’s chest at the way that Cassie’s mouth stiffens into a frown.

"I know. But whatever happens I’m with you."

Cassie looks a little taken aback, like Nancy’s words have hit her square in the chest. She knows it’s presumptuous to declare something like that, especially when so much else pulls at her. She has to worry about Mike, has to make sure the kids are okay, has to protect her friends too. Nancy can’t profess her absolute loyalty to Cassie, can’t proclaim that she’ll stand with her through thick and thin, when they don’t know what’s going to happen. When they don’t know where the lines will end up. Nancy can’t afford to let her tether to Cassie pull her into something she can’t risk, considering all that she has to lose. She can’t betray Robin or Eddie either, ending up in something that would go against everything they stand for, everything that they are. This feels like a tipping point, like a moment to look back on, as Nancy gets tied up in promises she can’t keep and loyalties that she can’t stop from clashing.

But Cassie is her friend and Nancy can’t just abandon her. Slytherins look out for themselves, but they’re a unit as well. Besides, it doesn’t matter that Cassie and her relationship has always been defined by harsh words and teasing. Regardless of any of that, at the end of the day, they’ve both always been there for each other. Nancy isn’t about to let that come to an end now.

"You’re sure?" Cassie echoes, looking doubtful, and all Nancy can do is nod firmly. The way that relief clearly floods through her friend, Cassie’s shoulders loosening in a plainer show of emotion and vulnerability than she has ever allowed before, tells Nancy that she’s done the right thing, but she still can’t help the lingering worry turning sour and stale in her throat. Regret threatens to churn, but she shoves it aside. Cassie has stood by her in some way or another for years. Nancy won’t abandon her now.

————

Nancy finds herself instantly distracted from her uneasiness as the year begins, kickstarting in a way that it never has before. She suddenly understands Steve’s groaning about exams much better last year just from the cold and despairing way that some of the teachers look at them as they stress the difficulty and importance of OWLs.

Hopper scowls around at them all as they settle into their seats for their first class of the day. Slytherin has Double Potions with Hufflepuff this year, which wouldn’t change anything except for the fact that Hopper is one of those annoying teachers who makes people pair up with someone from another House. In the past, her and Cassie have been saved by an uneven number of students, but this year they are split up.

And, of course, Nancy is torn away from trying to focus on chopping ingredients when she latches onto the way that Robin leans over her, the honey smell of her shampoo and mint of her breath distracting her to the point that Nancy almost slices her thumb off five times. Every inhale makes her heart stutter, a pitter-patter rhythm that throws her off every time. Again, her stomach sinks as she vehemently denies to herself what this strange feeling might be.

She takes a deep breath, telling herself that she can do this.

"Robin," she manages in a strangled voice, "do you think you could back up slightly? I know how to use a knife, you don’t need to supervise me."

Robin’s eyes widen, startled, before she scrambles back a couple of steps. Nancy isn’t sure if she’s imagining the way that her cheeks flush a sheepish scarlet, but she’s just thankful that she can finally pay full attention to the Sopophorous beans she’s supposed to be slicing. Her breath comes a little easier, but she’s surprised by the way that she suddenly feels a lot colder without Robin leaning into her space, her long torso pressed against Nancy’s side as her breath ghosted across the tender flesh of her neck, which has now sprouted goosebumps just at the memory. Nancy resists the urge to clap a hand across the skin, tensing her shoulders instead and gritting her teeth, as though she could force herself to focus through sheer will.

"You okay, Wheeler?" Robin asks, her voice pitched low and soft. Nancy knows it’s because she isn’t trying to make a big deal of whatever has come over her, but something about the husk of Robin’s voice makes a shiver go down her spine instead, like icy fingers trailing across the nerve endings.

Nancy clears her throat as forcefully as she can. "Yeah, just a long day, I guess. Still tired from the train maybe."

Robin’s gaze skates over her, searching and piercing in all the ways that it always has been. Nancy has always felt easily exposed when it comes to Robin. She’s sure that the other girl can read the lie plastered across her features, but instead of calling her out on anything, Robin just shrugs and smiles. It’s a soft thing, only a hint of white teeth flashing through, and Nancy’s not sure why it just makes her feel even more thrown off kilter.

"Fair enough. Do you want me to handle the rest of the ingredient prep? I swear, you can watch me like a hawk."

There’s something warm in her chest at the way that Robin treats her upright nature about academics so seriously, rather than the quirk or idiosyncrasy that most others do. Robin doesn’t roll her eyes when Nancy drags her to the library, or smile condescendingly when she tries to correct her wand movements. Instead, she leans into all of Nancy, as though she likes the whole picture rather than just some of the pieces.

Maybe that’s why Nancy backs away, letting Robin’s hand come softly over her wrist as she eases the knife out of her grip. Her goosebumps spread across her arms at the grazing touch, and Nancy wishes that she wasn’t so pale — maybe then her flush wouldn’t burn so bright. But Robin seems too focused on the Sopophorous beans to watch Nancy’s reaction: she squints down at the chopping board as she carefully tries to match the exact way that Nancy has been cutting them. Nancy finds herself watching Robin more than the motion of the knife though, caught between staring at the way that she bites her lips slightly trying to focus and how she irritatedly blows strands of hair out of her eyes whilst she chops, both of her hands busy.

She tells herself that the swooping feeling in her chest is normal, that anyone would be touched by the concern shown for what they care about by one of their friends, that there’s nothing more to it. There can’t be anything more to it.

The lie is shattered somewhat by the wide grin that Robin shoots her when she finishes, stepping back as though to let Nancy inspect her work for shortcomings. She’s hesitant to do exactly that, worried by some absurd fear that the softness in Robin’s eyes would disappear and her smile would tilt condescendingly. Eventually, with a confused wrinkle of her nose, Robin just gestures for her to step forward with a wave of her hand.

"Come on, four eyes are better than two. Tell me if I fucked up."

"You can’t fuck up," Nancy scolds her gently, more genial and patient than she’s ever been with Cassie as a potions partner. She can practically feel the outrage pouring out of the other girl as she likely glares at Nancy from the station behind them. Nancy is too wrapped up in the way that Robin stands at her back, peering at the chopped ingredients in a way that would make it so easy for the taller girl to just hook her chin over Nancy’s shoulder. She can imagine the soft press of Robin’s cheek against her neck and feels her throat dry up at the very thought.

"I think they’re perfect," she eventually manages to force out, giving Robin a stiff smile. The soft fondness shifts a little, like Robin’s wounded, but Nancy is already moving onto the next step in an attempt to escape the quagmire she knows that she’s drawing herself into.

They settle into a reasonably easy rhythm, which, towards the end of the class, she is startled out of when she peers into their cauldron.

"Robin!" Nancy hisses, doing her best to keep her voice low. Robin, next to her, jumps about a foot in the air as she whips round to face her, eyes darting in a panic.

"What?"

"Why is our potion shimmering? No one else’s is shimmering!"

Robin frowns, leaning over the cauldron to examine the potion, her mouth twisting as she stirs it curiously. The steam curls neatly upwards from the mouth of the cauldron, corkscrewing up and around Robin’s face as she squints and sniffs. "I think it’s fine?"

Nancy resists the urge to pout or stamp her foot in frustration. "But it’s shimmering, Robin. It’s not supposed to shimmer."

"I know, Nance, but we did everything perfect."

She squints at her partner, unable to stop herself from blurting out an accusation. "Are you sure you didn’t add anything?"

Robin looks at her, eyebrows raised incredulously. Nancy flushes, embarrassed, even though there’s a twist of amusement to the other girl’s smile, a fond slant to the exasperation. "No, Nance. I didn’t, at least partly because you would kill me if I did."

The blush grows, creeping across her cheeks and down her neck, worsened by the way that Robin smirks at her in response. "Alright, fine," she mumbles, loathe to admit that she might have been out of line there. The curve of Robin’s smile softens with affection, and Nancy immediately shifts on her feet, uncomfortable with the honesty of it. She busies herself instead with peering over the rim of the cauldron again, pouting at the glittering potion and steeling herself for the satisfied disappointment that will creep into Hopper’s smile.

He isn’t necessarily a vindictive man, but Nancy knows that he has his issues with her. Hopper knows how much trouble the kids can get themselves into — he was involved with the investigation into the deaths in third year, and she’s sure that, despite the generally accepted rumour that it had been Nancy, Hopper is aware of the truth. He isn’t a stupid man, even if he’s a grumpy asshole. And he clearly genuinely cares about the kids, if El had stayed with him over the summer, if they had been so sure in rushing to him with the truth after everything with Bauman and Carroll.

This just confuses Nancy even more, though — if he knows everything that’s been happening, why does he think that Nancy would ever do anything to hurt the kids? She’s only ever stood up for herself and tried to protect them. Hopper’s suspicion feels even more unfounded given his knowledge of the truth, but it doesn’t stop his eyebrows narrowing and expression shuttering closed every time that he looks at her.

Maybe it’s as simple as the colours that trim her robes, but it’s difficult to believe that Hopper, experienced in hunting Dark wizards of all backgrounds and character, would be so shallow.

"Wheeler, Buckley," Hopper intones as he comes to their station, looking into their cauldron with a raised eyebrow. "Why is it shimmering?"

"I don’t know, sir," Nancy admits, spine straight and chin up even as her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Hopper’s features twitch with surprise before he shrugs, taking a vial and gathering a sample of their creation. He hums as he holds it up to the light, before setting it back down on the desk.

"Well, it still seems alright. Good work."

Wordless, Nancy just nods numbly and watches Hopper draw himself up once more and walk away, already frowning at the colour in Cassie’s potion.

"Wait, we didn’t do it wrong?" Nancy manages to ask, working through her confusion as Hopper starts to berate Cassie behind them.

"No," Robin says mournfully, blinking down at the cauldron. "I think you did it too well."

Bitter laughter sounds behind them, and Nancy cranes her neck around to look at Cassie, who’s staring at them with a murderous glint in her eyes as she grins maliciously. "You did it too well?"

"Cassie-"

"I am going to hurt you incredibly badly, Wheeler. I know where you sleep."

Robin laughs, a triumphant smile slashing across her face. "She’s my partner this year, Chan, you can fuck off."

"Watch your tongue, Buckley," Cassie mutters back, glaring viciously at the smug Hufflepuff.

Nancy rolls her eyes. "Can you two shut up? Besides, I’m sure Vickie is just at good at Potions as I am," she points out, nodding at the red-head Hufflepuff standing awkwardly next to Cassie. She knows that Robin and Vickie are friends, and would probably be partners if it wasn’t for Hopper’s pairing rules. She finds herself taken over by a flash of vicious satisfaction at that fact, resisting the sudden possessive urge to slot herself into Robin’s side emphatically.

Vickie laughs awkwardly, but good-naturedly, blushing from the weight of sudden eyes on her. "No, I’m really not. But thanks for trying, Nancy."

Robin shrugs, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, Vic."

The red-head’s expression warms with fond affection, and the jealousy that wells up in Nancy’s throat at the soft way that Robin smiles back tastes sour and rancid when she swallows it down. Suddenly, she doesn't feel so bad for Cassie griping about being partnered with the other girl. She shrugs off Cassie’s curious look stiffly as they all gather their things and make their way out of the potions classroom.

"Well, at least I know that I’m going to ace my Potions OWL," Robin grins, winking at Nancy.

The way that her heart pounds takes her so off guard that the quip about Robin only being friends with her to help her grades dies on her tongue. Besides, even if that was the truth, Nancy wouldn’t mind — if she can’t be wanted, she can at least be needed. Mike doesn’t want her but he does need her. At least Robin still seems to want her. She’s determined to keep it that way, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if Robin just wanted her for her studying. At least she’d still have her, Nancy thinks, swallowing hard.

"Unfortunately, we do the exams individually," she says instead, even managing a laugh. "So, no partner helping you out then."

Robin pouts, pretending to scowl, though her eyes are creased around the edges from amusement. "Oh well," she shrugs, "guess I’ll just have to cram every piece of advice you give me into my head instead. Get ready for me to never leave your side in class."

Despite the way that having Robin at her elbow earlier had thrown her off, Nancy finds that she doesn’t mind the prospect of it continuing as much as she thought she would. Robin is clever enough, after all. Being a muggleborn comes with a distinct disadvantage, and she had managed to catch up enough. Maybe it was osmosis through spending enough of her life with Nancy in the library, but she doubts it somehow. Robin is plenty smart and hardworking all on her own. She would have been fine. Nancy is seized with the sudden anxiety of what might happen if she said that, though: ridiculous imagined scenarios of Robin realising that she doesn’t need Nancy and up and leaving flash through her head. The idea of Robin leaning over Vickie’s shoulder instead, hooking her chin into the hollow of her collarbone and grinning in that way that makes it impossible to resisting smiling back. The alternative, of Robin sticking close enough that her scent of her honey hair haunts Nancy, suddenly seems much more preferable.

"Alright, then," she laughs, feeling her gaze go soft as she looks up at Robin through her eyelashes. Affection sticks in her throat, thick and horrible. "I guess I can manage that."

Robin’s eyes are bright and full of laughter as she grins back. "I do so love to be managed," she winks, and Nancy groans, stomach flipping for a reason she refuses to pin down.

"You’re disgusting. And a liar. You hate being managed."

Robin shrugs easily, laughing to herself in a soft, huffing kind of way that makes Nancy need to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. "It’s not so bad when it’s you."

Nancy flushes down to her toes, blushing bright scarlet. She hopes Robin doesn’t notice it, but the way that her eyes crumple into little gleaming half-moons tell her that there’s no chance of that. She scoffs instead, hoping to cover up just how flustered she is with an incredulous glare.

"Right, well, then next time that we are in the library, I expect perfect obedience."

She’s not sure why she says it like that, voice pitched low and husky, but now it’s Robin’s turn to blush. The tips of her ears turn red, bright like signal flares, and she seems to stumble over her words for a second. Some triumphant and victorious feeling burns in Nancy’s chest, and she can’t help the smug smirk that she fires Robin’s way.

"See you then, Buckley," she volleys with a wink before striding away with fierce pride flaring in her insides. There’s a little doubt and worry, as always, but when she sneaks a look over her shoulder, Robin is still standing shell-shocked in the middle of the corridor, the straps of her bag hanging dangerously loose from her grip. Nancy can’t resist the urge to snort to herself, counting that in a win in a game that she hadn’t realised they were playing.

Cassie strides next to her as they make their way to their next class, a smug smirk on her face.

"What?" Nancy eventually asks, annoyed.

"Nothing," Cassie grins, Cheshire Cat wide.

"Shove that smile up your arse, Chan."

Whatever lingering joy Nancy feels from Potions class is dispelled as soon as she walks into Defence Against the Dark Arts. Her hackles are already raised after Pericles’ speech at the Feast, and she can see the doubt and apprehension etched into Cassie’s features as well. She’s preparing herself for another bout of propaganda but, instead, the blackboard at the front of the room instructs them all to sit down and read their textbooks. Nancy remains silent as she slips into her seat, flicking her book open to start on the first chapter, but finds herself staring at Pericles instead. The man is the picture of calm at the front of the room, head down and focused on scratching away at some parchment on his desk.

Nancy flicks contemptuously through the textbook, frowning as she realises that it’s all theory. The course aims written across the blackboard detail that this is how the rest of the year will go: apparently, the Ministry of Magic is of the belief that there is no need to study the practical aspect of defending oneself. Nancy notes with some vindication that she isn’t the only person bothered by this.

There’s no point causing a fuss, though, Nancy reminds herself as she pretends to scratch away at her notes for the class. Really, she knows everything this book could teach her after all the extra work Brenner had her doing. The man might be a Death Eater, but she can’t deny that he was a good teacher. It’s his reasons for dedicating so much time to her education that send a chill down her spine. Still, she’s the anomaly who can dismiss this — everyone else needs Defence Against the Dark Arts. Especially if things continue down the path that they seem to be following. The Ministry is playing a dangerous game, treating the situation like it needs to be controlled and minimised. Nancy can’t help but suspect that, once they know where all the cards have fallen, this miseducation is going to leave the wizarding world with a particularly vulnerable underside.

Cassie stretches like a cat as she stands once the lesson is up, and Nancy winces at the sound of her spine cracking. "So, that was bullshit."

She muffles a laugh. "You always have such an eloquent way of framing things, Cass."

"Yeah, well, it was."

"A whole year of that."

Cassie hums, thinking. "And we are sure that the big guy is out there?"

The words are carefully engineered to be subtle, but it makes Nancy's insides freeze anyway.

"Well, Carroll had to report to someone. He wasn’t that freaked at the end without needing to explain himself to someone more important. Maybe it’s just Death Eaters out there, but the Ministry wouldn’t have sent Pericles if they didn’t think this was a situation that needed it."

Cassie sighs. "So, we’re fucked."

"We’re fucked," Nancy agrees mildly, only frowning a little. If propaganda and misinformation is all they have to combat this year, she’s not going to complain too much. Surely it’s better to have that than having Death Eaters point wands at her chest or floating corpses or Vecna invade her head again. Still, Nancy can’t help but feel sour dread pool in the pit of her stomach.

————

Despite the way that Declan had whispered to her at the Welcoming Feast about try-outs, he says nothing more until the notice goes up on the bulletin board in the common room that they’re going to be held on Wednesday evening. Nancy rolls her shoulders a couple of times out of habit the second that she spots the flyer — immediately, her muscles feel tighter and more cramped, her frame slighter and shorter, her skills rusty and untuned.

Cassie snorts when she sees the way that Nancy practically has to steel herself before leaving dinner.

"Get a grip, Wheeler. They aren’t going to kick you off now. Besides, Declan is too scared of you."

"Hopefully," she manages to smile, tilting her head. "But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to prove I’m still good enough."

Slytherin is one of the only Houses to make people try out every year, after all, regardless of if they had already had a spot on the team. They have no interest in keeping people who aren’t the very best. Nancy just has to show that she still is.

Cassie rolls her eyes, but waves her off with a dismissive flick of her fingers and a bread roll chucked at her head for the walk. Nancy catches it neatly and stuffs it in her pocket, pretending that her stomach isn’t churning enough that eating anything seems like a task right now.

Declan gives her a grin when he spots her in the line-up, though it doesn’t do much to settle her. Now that she’s a fifth year, she shouldn’t still feel so inadequate, as though she’s standing there with people who are bound to have so much more experience and skill than her purely because of age. She might still be slight and small, but she’s not a tiny third year anymore. Nancy takes a fortifying breath, focusing on the slow way that her lungs expand and holds it till she feels her chest burn from the strain before she lets it go.

It’s weird to have younger kids now on the team. Basically every player has always been older than her — with this being Declan’s last year, though, Nancy knows this is a transitional period. A changing of the guard. It’s slightly unsettling, suddenly having to conceive of herself differently. Before, Nancy had been the newbie, the inexperienced one, who needed a hand on the shoulder before the game to settle themselves. Now, Nancy finds herself giving Phoebe, the promising third year Chaser prospect, a steady smile and a gesture to calm down. She glances at her, curly brown hair framing her face and glasses askew on her nose, and Nancy can’t believe that she’s only two years younger than her. Phoebe’s eyes seem so wide with nerves and apprehension, fear sparkling behind the lens of her glasses. It makes Nancy’s shoulders feel wider in comparison, her limbs longer, her whole body taller.

It's just try-outs, Nancy reminds herself, trying to shake off whatever introspection clouds her mind. Phoebe might not even make it. It’s not a chance for her own reflection on herself but for her to actually focus on keeping her Seeker spot.

There’s only one other person here to try out for Seeker, but she knows Declan, fond as he might be of her, won’t hesitate to kick her off if she doesn’t pass muster. The familiar handle of her broom at least brings her a slightly settled feeling, her fingers tracing the grooves that she has long-since memorised. She watches the prospective Chasers take off, a streak of green and silver practice robes painted across the sky. Though there’s a correlation between age and strength with skill, Phoebe’s surprisingly fast, and sturdy enough to survive being nudged and shoved on her way to the goalposts. Declan goes easy on the new prospects, but the way that Phoebe weaves and feints demonstrates genuine skill, something special that Nancy can’t deny.

She’s faster than Nancy would have predicted, speeding through the sky and lacing her way through the other Chaser prospects until she’s faced with Declan, a seriously intimidating Keeper. Still, whatever kind of confidence Phoebe has suddenly found herself injected with is enough for her to clench her jaw and decide to risk a shot. Time seems to slow down as the Quaffle soars through the air, Declan barely a second too late to save it as his fingertips graze the leather of the ball. Nancy can’t help the rush of satisfaction that surges through her at the sight of Phoebe’s goal. The younger girl’s jaw drops wide enough to catch flies, her shock written plainly across her face even as Declan chuckles and sends her a genial smile.

They had had spots to fill after Stephan had left last year, but Nancy hadn’t exactly been important enough to be brought into the decision-making process then; still only a fourth year, Nancy had been used to just doing what she was told when it came to Quidditch. Her job was to catch the Snitch and nothing else. Perhaps that’s why she feels so caught off-guard by the way that Declan gestures for her and Grace to join him after try-outs have officially finished and everyone else has been dismissed. Dread festers, convincing her that she’s going to be dismissed from the team, even though she had barely had to try-out. Grace shoots her a satisfied smile that just makes Nancy feel even more confused.

"Yeah, Dec?" She asks as soon as Grace and her have circled up with him, because Merlin knows that Grace isn’t going to start the conversation in a productive way when she has that leer plastered across her features. "What’s up?"

"I wanted to know your thoughts."

There’s a beat as she waits for him to explain, but Declan only stares at her expectantly, his eyebrows raised over deep brown eyes that she can’t read. "Thoughts?" She eventually echoes, trying to keep the confusion out of her voice. "On what?"

Declan scoffs disbelievingly, waving his hand towards the pitch in a vague gesture. "On what we should do. Who we should switch, who we should add."

Grace snickers beneath her breath at the way that Nancy’s jaw drops, though the laughter turns into a strangled yelp when Nancy steps firmly on her foot. "Sure," she manages, giving the older girl a fierce glare out of the corner of her eyes.

Declan, not missing any of this, just raises his eyebrow at Grace, who immediately leans forward with a wide grin pulling at her lips. Nancy almost feels disgusted at how lecherous it is. "Still want me on the team, Captain?"

"Obviously," he drawls, frowning as he looks at her. "Or else I wouldn’t be asking your opinion. Are you slow, or something?"

It’s Nancy’s turn to stifle a laugh as she watches Grace’s expression fall, irritation flashing across her features as she folds her arms and stares Declan down. "I think we need two new Chasers at the very least. I know we had Richie and he’s still a seventh year, but he’s only reserve level at best. He’s nothing on Stephan."

Declan hums in agreement, running a hand through his hair. It’s the only sign of frustration or fluster that he’s showing, but it’s enough for Nancy to realise why he’s asking their opinion. Hierarchy is important in Slytherin, but so is earning your place. Richie isn’t good enough, and Declan wants him gone, but he has to be sure that it’s the right choice considering the fact the other boy is a seventh year.

"Phoebe was good," Nancy finds herself saying, flushing when both Grace and Declan turn to look at her in unison. "I mean, I know she’s only a third year but so was I."

"Yeah," Grace snorts, "but Seekers are built for speed. They gotta be quick. Chasers are a different story, Wheeler."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Nancy nods, flushing as she looks down at her hands, resisting the urge to pick anxiously at her fingernails. She looks up, staring at Declan’s impassive expression as she takes a deep breath. "But I think she could be pretty good. A lot of Chasers start young, even if she’s tiny for a third year."

"And half-blind," Declan chimes, though a slow smile is spreading across his face. Nancy watches it grow, something churning in her chest.

"And half-blind," she echoes carefully. "I still think she’ll be good."

Declan sighs, looking down at his notes from the rest of try-outs. "Who else do you want, Grace?"

"Huh?"

"You’re the Chaser I’m keeping. Anyone in particular you want with you?"

Grace hums for a second, shrugging as she shakes her head. "I think if we are taking Phoebe, we should build for speed in the whole unit."

Declan nods, something satisfied gleaming in his eyes as he scribbles across his notes. "Yeah. Otherwise she’s a weak link. Instead build around her skills."

"I’m plenty fast too."

Declan makes a dismissive noise without even looking up, Grace’s jaw dropping as she turns to look at Nancy in outrage, but she’s still stuck on watching Declan. "So you’re taking Phoebe?"

"Huh?" Declan mutters as he flicks his eyes upwards, making eye contact with Nancy. Maybe he finally registers the confusion, the slightly lost way that Nancy is blinking, as though she’d missed several steps in getting here. A slow smile spreads across his face, couched in amusement and mirth. "Yeah, Wheeler, we’re taking Phoebe."

Nancy doesn’t know what to call the warmth that spreads through her, but it makes the smile that pulls at her lips difficult to resist. Declan might be reserved sometimes, but there’s something simple in the way that he grins at her, rolling his eyes as though of course her opinion would mean something to him. Being in Slytherin obviously hasn’t always been the easiest for Nancy, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t reassuring and comforting when, as she gets better at claiming Slytherin, they claim her too.

Grace, clearly able to read something on her face, scoffs a little incredulously before wrapping an arm around Nancy’s shoulders. "Get it together, Wheeler, or we’ll think you’re going soft on us. Besides, the universe doesn't dictate itself around the force of your maudlin teenage self-esteem issues."

"Wow, fuck you," she bites back, sure that her cheeks are glowing scarlet as she her elbow into the plane of the taller girl’s stomach and grins when she yelps. "Maybe you should start worrying about how you’re going to get out-played by a thirteen-year-old."

"I’m not going to get out-played!"

"You’re definitely going to get out-flown," Declan grins, something mischievous in his smile, though Nancy catches the way that his brown eyes soften when he looks at Grace. The two of them are just as bad as each other, and Nancy can’t wait for when they stop involving everyone else in this dance they’re doing around each other. It’s honestly a little painful.

Grace sniffs imperiously, mock offence oozing out of her as she fixes her hands to her hips, glaring at them both. "I’ve changed my mind, Phoebe’s out."

"Team captain makes final decisions, not you," Declan retorts mildly, not even looking at Grace as he flips through his notes for a final time. He ignores the huff that Grace lets loose, frowning down at his parchment instead. "Unfortunately, I think we are stuck with Hagan and Perkins at Beater."

Nancy smiles tightly, the warm amusement draining from her. "You didn’t like the look of anyone else?"

"Not really," Declan sighs, his mouth a thin line. "Plus, Beaters have to work together, you know? The partnership matters. We are the only ones who can work by themselves, you know. Besides, they haven’t let anyone be hit by a Bludger before. They might be assholes, but they can do their jobs."

Nancy sighs, shrugging. He has a point and, like he says, he’s the team captain. It’s his choice. She might not trust either of them as far as she can throw them, but it isn’t like they have viable replacements either. The only other prospects for Beater who had turned up, with most kids knowing that the positions were firmly filled, had been a nervous fourth year, Bernard, and a tall and silent third year girl who only used her last name, Davidson. Unlike Phoebe, Davidson hadn’t quite been skilled enough to impress. Besides, unlike with Richie, she’s pretty sure that kicking Carol and Tommy off the team really would cause a stink — she doubts they’d take that kind of thing well.

"Oh well," she manages, smiling grimly at Declan. At least he seems to share her distaste for the two of them. "But we need to start thinking about next steps for after them anyway."

"Perkins and Hagan graduate in a year," Grace agrees and Declan shrugs helplessly, spreading his hands wide.

"I know, but I’ve got to focus on this season. I mean, Davidson will be a reserve. I guess we’ve just got to invite her to practise and work with her so she’ll be ready when Hagan and Perkins are gone."

Nancy scoffs humourlessly. "I’m sure that’ll go down well." Declan nods, looking a little hopeless, but his shrug carries an air of finality as he leans down to buckle up the chest of balls they had used. Grace wordlessly steps up to carry half the weight as Nancy grabs their brooms for them, trotting behind as they lug it back up to the supply shed. She finds herself resisting a smile as Declan shoves it open with his hip, remembering breaking into this very shed toward the end of last year, though the smile drifts into something sad and wistful as she thinks about Bauman.

He had managed to get a letter through to El during the summer, and she had sent it onto Max and Mike. It had only been because Perrie, the family owl, had dropped the letter onto her plate instead of Mike’s that she knew anything about it. He was safe, apparently, though obviously not able to divulge much about where he was and what hole Owens had managed to find for him to scurry into. Nancy tries to take a deep breath, reassuring herself that none of them hearing from him again is probably good news. If Bauman, a renowned criminal, had been caught by the authorities it would be plastered across the front of the Daily Prophet, no matter what kind of propaganda usually takes up that space these days. She very consciously and purposefully doesn’t let herself think about the fact that there would be nothing left of Bauman to find and write any sort of article about if the Death Eaters find him. They wouldn’t accept that he had failed to explain El’s strange ability to hurt Vecna all those years ago, or the fact that Carroll had been caught.

Better not to think about that fact at all.

"I could help her," Nancy finds herself saying as, once again, Grace and Declan whip around to look at her. Grace, maybe purposefully, lets her corner of the chest slip as they place it down, smirking at the way that it drops heavily onto Declan’s foot.

"Motherfucking Merlin’s balls, Grace," he grinds out, glaring at her as he clutches at his foot, before turning back to Nancy. His curiosity is slightly strained by his obvious pain, but he still manages to raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Davidson. She needs help. I doubt that we can afford to give her proper time and focus during training sessions anyway. She can practice with me."

Grace folds her arms, looking doubtful. "Seeker training and Beater training aren’t exactly compatible separately."

Nancy shrugs. "She needs something to aim at, doesn’t she?"

"What?" Declan sputters, turning red. "Yeah, but not one of our most valuable players!"

"Don’t be stupid," she snorts dismissively, though she can feel the tips of her ears burn bright red. "It wouldn’t be with real Bludgers. A ball that mimics the weight of one, and the erratic flight part, but wouldn’t hurt whoever she hit it at."

"Do you really think you could make something like that?"

"Yeah, if there isn’t one already. I’m sure that Beaters must need safer practice balls. But, yeah, if there isn’t anything like that out there, I’ll make one."

Declan grimaces. "Look, Wheeler, you’re a talented witch, but that would take ages." Nancy doesn’t say anything as she arches her eyebrow, giving the older boy a narrow look. He holds his hands up in quick surrender, shaking his head. "Fine! If you want to help get Davidson up to snuff, that’s your prerogative."

Nancy grins, genuine and blinding. "Thanks, Dec."

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbles as he tosses the keys to the shed to Grace and shoulders past the two of them, trudging up the path to the castle and muttering under his breath about how much he hates Slytherin girls. Nancy can’t help the flicker of triumphant glee she feels in her chest at the sight, even if it means that her captain is irritated with her.

Grace clears her throat roughly, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "What the fuck, Wheeler?"

"What?"

"Why would you offer to help Davidson? What do you get out of it?""

She scoffs. "I don’t know, a reliable Beater for my seventh year? Just because you don’t have to worry about that doesn’t mean I don’t."

"Yeah, yeah, you just want to be the next Quidditch Captain."

Nancy laughs. That hadn’t even been anywhere near the point of offering to help Davidson. She has no interest in that kind of thing. "Don’t be an idiot. I’d be a shit captain. No one would listen to me. Besides, Seekers are never captain. They are such a separate cog. They don’t get the same view on the team as a Chaser or a Keeper."

"Sounds like someone has put a lot of thought into the situation," Grace teases mercilessly, only laughing louder when Nancy shoves the other girl’s broom into her chest with a firm thud. "Ah, come on, Wheeler, you know I’m joking!"

"Fuck you, Liu," she volleys back, though she’s smiling as she lets Grace usher her out of the shed and lock up. "You’re just jealous that Declan didn’t call you one of his most important players."

"Oh, fuck you for real," Grace echoes, with real heat behind the words now. Nancy grins, nudging the taller girl firmly as they make their way up the path. Late summer sun beams down on them, like a baking, dry sort of heat. The school lawn is yellowed and cracking from the lack of rain over the last few months, and Nancy can almost taste the sweet air that signals the death of another summer. Despite it being the beginning of another year, a sense of finality fills her. With everything going on, it’s too easy to see this as the last phase of something she hadn’t appreciated till it was too late.

A kind of lightness spreads through her, warm and uplifting, as she grins, tipping her head back to enjoy the last of the afternoon sunshine, and she can’t help but feel infinite and invincible in this singular stolen moment.

"Just tell Declan how you feel. He likes you too, you know."

"That is not the point," Grace retorts firmly, though her cheeks flame scarlet at the idea. "He’s supposed to talk to me."

"That why you dropped the chest on his foot?"

"Maybe," the other sniffs haughtily and Nancy lets loose an amused laugh from deep in her chest.

"You know, I’m pretty sure most people don’t want to be with girls who are quite so cruel and combative with their flirting techniques."

Grace shakes her head knowingly. "Not Declan. I’ll woo him with my inherent threats that, if he won’t be wooed, he’ll be killed."

"Merlin," Nancy sputters as she laughs at the bluntness. "Good luck to him."

"Hey, if I can’t get a date, neither can you. You need to start hoping that this shit works or you’re doomed too."

Nancy makes a choked and outraged kind of sound that she’s never produced before and surprises both of them. "Excuse me, what? That’s not true."

"Nancy, you’re the best duellist Hogwarts has seen in years. No one is going to date you unless they get off on the fact that you could blow their brains out with barely a thought."

Nancy’s stride falters as the truth of Grace’s point sinks in, and she’s not sure if she’s more desperate to believe that Robin wouldn’t mind that possibility or to actively shove any thought about Robin in conjunction with dating completely out of her head. "Oh, Merlin."

"Yeah," Grace snickers. "You’re fucked, Wheeler. Or, not fucked, depending on how you see it, I guess."

"That’s disgusting," Nancy groans, wrinkling her nose at the way that Grace howls with laughter. "And we’re as not-fucked as each other, so don’t look so smug."

"True. We can be spinsters together. And fuck shit up for everyone else on the Quidditch pitch," Grace declares as she slings an arm around Nancy’s shoulders. Despite how clearly exaggerated and sarcastic the act is, Nancy can’t help but feel a little reassured by the weight of Grace’s arm, like a physical reminder of the friendship that surrounds her. So, she doesn’t shove it off, instead leaning a little closer into her friend’s side as they stumble up the path together.

Grace doesn’t say anything, but she pulls Nancy in a little tighter too, and that’s enough for her.

————

In comparison to the start of last year, the school term continues along in relative peace and quiet. Pericles is an issue, but he is a different kind of threat to Carroll and certainly different to the murders from third year. Brenner still looms ominously — a factor that Nancy is prepared for her to deal with, but not anyone else. It's difficult, though, to keep El away from someone who's supposed to be her Transfiguration teacher, but Mike barely leaves her side and Nancy keeps them all out of duelling club. Merlin, she is almost at the point where she can believe that she’ll have a normal year at Hogwarts when it all starts to fracture.

"Did you hear your genius brother managed to earn detention already?" Grace drawls in her ear at breakfast, making Nancy jump with the suddenness of it. She whips around to glare at the older girl, who’s smirking knowingly as she swings her leg over the bench and settles at the table.

"What?" She grumbles. "How? Did you give it to him?"

"No, but I kind of wish I did," Grace teases as she sucks jam off her thumb, "if only to see his face. He’s a bit of a snot, you have to admit."

Nancy scowls. "Yeah, fine. But don’t be a dick to him, Liu."

"I’m not! Like I said, I didn’t give him the detention."

"So, what happened?"

Grace hums, shrugging. "Not clear, but based on what Phoebe told me, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Merlin," Nancy sighs, glaring down at her toast. She imagines drowning Mike in a bucket of pumpkin juice for a brief moment before she takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the irritation that chafes her. It’s not her house he’s taking points from, after all. "He’s such an idiot."

"Hey, it’s just detention," Grace shrugs, giving her a little smile. "Don’t stress."

"Then why were you rubbing it in?"

Grace laughs as she shrugs again, more lazily this time and full of careless contempt. "I mean. To be a dick?"

"You suck."

"Yeah, true. But, really. I’m sure you can find out how he’s supposed to serve detention."

Nancy sighs, resisting the urge to rub a hand across her brow. It’s too early in the year to let herself fall into this trap, she reminds herself, but that doesn’t do anything to dispel the gnawing concern. "Do you know what Pericles’ usual punishment is yet?"

Grace thinks for a second before clicking her tongue disappointedly. "No, I don’t think so. But he’s a Ministry guy. He’s probably all about rules and regulations, so it’ll likely just be lines."

Nancy hums doubtfully. Pericles’ speech at the start of term hadn’t exactly filled her with confidence about his agenda, but she doesn’t see how his detentions could factor into his determination to keep ‘tradition’ alive at Hogwarts. Still, the idea of her brother at his mercy doesn’t sit well. "I’ll talk to Mike. See if I can find out what actually happened. Good to know what kind of guy Pericles is going to be either way."

Grace shrugs, already distracted by Carol shoving Phoebe on her way to the table. Nancy might have been the one to stick up for her placement on the team, but Grace had apparently taken her under her wing enough to frown and snap at Tommy and Carol as they loom over Phoebe. It’s a kind of side to Grace that she’s not seen before, and Nancy tries not to smile too wide as she cranes her neck, a flicker of satisfaction in her chest when she sees Mike at the Gryffindor table, though her heart sinks when she sees all of his friends huddled around him too. That’s never a good sign. "Wish me luck in the lions’ den," she mutters to Grace, who just snorts in a way that doesn’t exactly fill Nancy with confidence as she walks over the Gryffindor table.

Mike’s gaze flicks up to meet hers as she approaches, and he hardly looks surprised as he scowls. "Did you really hear already?"

"Obviously," she draws out, raising an eyebrow. "What did you do?"

"Leave me alone, Nancy," he laments instead, brow heavy and drawn. It’s more childish and whiny than anything else, and Nancy doesn’t do much to hide her dismissive snort.

"Don’t you get bored of the whole petulance thing, Mike? Just let me help you out. Maybe I can get you reassigned if Pericles’ detention is particularly awful."

Mike just scowls harder. "I don’t need your help." Max, whose hostility towards her had melted at least somewhat over the summer, nudges Mike firmly and raises her eyebrows until he grimaces, looking resentful and chagrined all at once as he relents. "I questioned Pericles’ course aims."

Nancy snorts. Clearly the professor had pulled the same trick in all his classes, regardless of year level. "His course aims?"

"They’re stupid!"

She hums in agreement, tilting her head as she looks at her brother. He stares resolutely back, and she can practically see the way that his jaw clenches. "I mean, yeah, but worth getting a detention for?"

"Vecna is out there, and we aren’t even going to be practising any defensive spells?"

Panic washes over her, cold and sudden, and she grabs Mike by the elbow and drags him away from the table, where there are far too many prying eyes, and against the wall of the Great Hall instead, ignoring the way that he sputters in protest. "Okay, you cannot say shit like that, Mike."

Mike’s face goes cold, frustration and anger playing across his face. "What? I can’t tell the truth?"

"That’s not what I’m saying."

"You were there, Nancy," he ploughs on, ignoring her words. "You know Vecna is still alive."

Nancy resists the urge to swear under her breath as she looks around the Hall, trying to see if anyone is paying too much attention to the huddled and hushed conversation in the corner of the room. Resists the urge too to snap at her brother and lash out, to say that he’s not the one who was almost killed by him, who had his voice echo and scrape in his head. "Of course I do, Michael. But that isn’t the point."

"Then what is?" Mike challenges, raising his chin stubbornly. Nancy feels something in her soften as she looks at him, so bullish and reliably headstrong as always. It isn’t his fault that he’s so stubbornly good that he can’t recognise what’s really happening.

"Do you really think that this is about who’s lying and who’s telling the truth?"

He blinks at her, taken aback. "What?"

"Think, Mike. I know you’re capable of it."

"Fuck you, Nancy," he retorts, more of a knee-jerk than anything. There’s none of the venom behind it that she might expect. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"People will believe what they want to believe, Mike, no matter what is actually true. We need to get the truth about everything out there, of course, and convince who we can. But Pericles isn’t here to teach us. And pushing back against him publicly isn’t going to do anything right now. The Ministry refuses to accept that Vecna might come back, so all anyone is ever going to get is a barrage of lies about how he won't. Standing up and calling them lies is only going to make them think you're someone who needs dealing with."

Mike sniffs, drawing up straighter. "So, what?"

"Yelling in the halls that Vecna is out there isn’t going to do anything except make yourself a target," Nancy tells him, every syllable enunciated as clearly as possible — for once, she is begging the universe that Mike just listens to her. His brow furrows, eyes shrouded in shadow as he stares back at her for a long moment before nodding.

"Okay," he says, and it feels like a peace offering even with the wary apprehension threading through the words. "I get what you mean."

Nancy isn’t ashamed of the way that she half-slumps in relief. "Okay," she echoes, like a surrender. "Goading Pericles or causing a scene isn’t the way to win this, but I’m not saying we do nothing."

"I got it," Mike says, annoyance creeping into his tone. "I’ll think of something else." And, as ominous as that is, he’s whirling around on his heel before Nancy can say anything else. She thinks about stopping him, heavy hand on his shoulder before he can retake his place at the Gryffindor table, but it isn’t worth it — it’s a battle she can’t face fighting right now. So, instead she traipses back to Slytherin, hoping no one can spot the tension in her shoulders as she slips back into her seat opposite Grace. The other girl raises a wordless eyebrow but doesn’t say a word. Nancy wishes the jam, usually so sweet and tangy, tasted like anything other than ash as she takes a bite of her now-cold toast.

————

As the year goes on, the shadow cast by the growing activities of the Death Eaters. The Daily Prophet might be doing its best to cover up the truth, to keep the public in the dark, but it is no match for the Hogwarts rumour mill. Especially in Slytherin. There is no shortage of kids with parents in the Ministry, and it becomes open knowledge that people are disappearing. At first it is just minor roles — people all the same, but not elected officials.

Then more important people in every department start to go missing too, and half a dozen infamous Death Eaters manage to escape Azkaban, and the problem becomes impossible to ignore.

It all throws Nancy for a bit of a loop. It’s obvious why this is happening — every replacement nominated is someone linked to Darker families and activities. Not necessarily accused Death Eaters, but it doesn’t take a genius to see the way that the Ministry is being stacked and manipulated for what is to come. The Prophet stays quiet, as does the Ministry as a whole, with the new appointments being framed as reforms and regular overhauls. But the truth is easy enough to figure out. It just isn’t easy to figure out what to do about it. Nancy can’t stop the burn of frustration that she feels in her chest at the fact that there’s nothing she can do to stop this. Problems at Hogwarts, fine, but they can’t exactly tackle the whole corruption of the British Ministry of Magic.

Nancy doesn’t know how to tackle a problem that isn’t right in front of her.

Mike doesn’t even bother to drag her into whispered conversations anymore, even though she knows that he’s heard what’s happening and must have picked up on the truth of it all. He isn’t stupid, even if he is only a third year, and with Pericles in the castle, it’s obvious that the Ministry is changing its approach. She just hopes that he remembers what she had told him — and prays that she can stick to it too. There’s nothing to be gained from making foolish moves right now. Even if people did believe them, if they put faith in the truth of what they were saying about everything that had happened over the last two years, there’s nothing that a bunch of students could do about the Ministry either. They’re better off focusing on what they can do about Pericles and Defence Against the Dark Arts, Nancy knows, but understanding that doesn’t stop the sting of what feels like failure. Doesn’t stop her from pouring over the newspapers at every opportunity, from tolerating Lucy and Joanna more than she ever has before, for the sole reason of picking up whatever gossip she thinks might be meaningful.

Doesn’t stop the lingering aching feeling that she should be doing more.

With the thick tension hanging over the castle, Quidditch becomes an escape as usual. Nancy makes good on her promise to the others to train up Davidson. Even though she’d been designated a reserve, the girl has talent. Problem is that Nancy doesn’t know anything about being a Beater. She isn’t exactly built for it. Asking Steve for help doesn’t feel like the concession that it might have done years before, and, despite being a Chaser, he got an odd knack for it, his swing seeming to last for a thousand years, the crack of the bat always resounding and loud and sure. When he’s flying, the picture of confidence, every inch of him is Adonis-golden, and Nancy knows it isn’t love that she looks at him with but envy. She thinks of all the things she could be if she had been born in his skin instead, if she was armed with boyish charm and Hufflepuff gold instead of cold primness and Slytherin emerald.

Steve always gives her such a clueless smile as soon as she starts going down that dark corridor that she can’t help but feel guilt pinch her throat. It isn’t his fault, after all.

The best part about him helping is the fact that Robin and Eddie usually tag along too, like Nancy and Steve together are limbs they can’t quite live without. It’s strange, being adopted by this gaggle of Hufflepuffs, but they all slot together better than she ever could have dreamed.

Davidson doesn’t quite get it. Her brown eyes go flat with suspicion the first time that the others all show up, Steve in his Quidditch robes and his broom slung over his shoulder and Robin and Eddie slouching in the stands, Robin shoving at him as he leans in and whispers what Nancy is sure is something foul and lewd, judging by the stretch of his smile and the gleam in his eye. "What are they doing here?" Davidson asks, head tilted in confusion.

Nancy smiles. The younger girl reminds her of a puppy sometimes, even though she’s already taller than Nancy, with long gangly limbs with the unexpected strength of a thirteen year old who’s going to grow hard and broad and tough. Now, all that anyone sees is a stretched and slight girl, but Nancy knows how to carve her into something more, even if she knows shit all about being a Beater.

"They’re here to help," she says, before squinting at Robin and Eddie in the stands. Like she can feel her eyes, Robin casts her eyes in Nancy’s direction, throwing her a beaming smile, her face scrunched up from the force of it. "Well," Nancy amends, even if her heart is burning with affection, "Steve is. I think the other two are just here to be annoying."

Though she hadn’t raised her voice, the words must carry in the emptiness of the early afternoon, as Eddie pouts and yells something in protest that makes Steve scoff and wrinkle his nose in amusement as he approaches.

"But they aren’t Slytherins," Davidson points out haltingly, like this is a test she might fail. Nancy, even now, even faced with someone so much younger and simple, feels her stomach turn over. Slytheirn exclusionism is growing more and more of an issue — it's almost unthinkable to the worst of their House that anyone in Slytherin might socialise with someone who isn't, blood status be damned. To them, any purebloods in the other Houses only enable the Muggleborn problem, are undermining their society, are traitors to their blood. Davidson seems to be looking at them with more uncertainty and confusion rather than genuine protest, but that doesn't mean Nancy shouldn't be careful.

"Does that mean that they can’t help?" She asks, opting to keep things simple. Davidson looks confused, stumped by the obviousness of the problem, and Steve laughs.

"Look. Nancy asks for a favour, I do what I’m told. I know what’s good for me." He shrugs, like it’s that easy. Maybe it is. Maybe Nancy is finally getting closer to believing that, though she steps heavily on his foot and scowls at the implication that this was some kind of order when Steve, in reality, had laughed and assured her that of course he would help when she stumbled haltingly through the request.

"Don’t be a dick, Harrington."

He pouts, like some sort of kicked puppy. Nancy cuts her eyes away, blushing when she sees Eddie laughing and Robin grinning as she leans forward, elbows braced on her knees as though she’s watching a particularly interesting train wreck.

"Won’t they tell the Hufflepuff team what we are doing?" Davidson asks, and Nancy tries not to snort.

"I get the hang up, kid, but we are trying to get you up to standard. Hufflepuff don’t care about the reserves," she points out, and it comes out a little more cruel than she means. Davidson flushes scarlet in embarrassment, and Nancy finds herself oddly compelled to soothe the wound. "All that I mean is that Steve is a friend, and even if this were of interest to Hufflepuff, he wouldn’t betray a friend."

"Plus, Nancy knows more curses than I know words," he interjects with a cheerful grin, and Nancy sighs, waving a hand in his direction in absentminded confirmation.

"Yeah, there’s that too."

Davidson stares at them before nodding slowly, her delicate features still scrunched with confusion and suspicion. Nancy swallows her laugh as best that she can.

"Come on, Davidson. Drills as normal," she orders, something in her chest jumping at the way that Davidson leaps to follow her instructions. Nancy can’t deny that it is a little satisfying to watch Davidson follow her orders without question. Maybe it is because of the rumour about Nancy being the Heir that has leaked all the way down to the first years. Maybe it is because of her sheer force of personality. Either way, Davidson doesn’t look to her with fear, but with respect. It’s refreshing, and Nancy can’t help the way that she wants to treasure the feeling, like hands cradled around a delicate flame.

Practises pass quickly, a blur of drills and manoeuvres that Davidson gets slowly and surely better at. Nancy enchants one of the Bludgers to move slower until Davidson gets a better grasp of the basics. It means that she doesn’t get too injured during their practices, but Davidson improves quickly. Declan gives her a secretive grin every time he sees her that she supposes she is to take as approval. It warms her heart in a way that Nancy takes a while to recognise. Years of going out on a limb for everything, or everything feeling like a high stakes dice roll, a bet that she’s always going to lose, and it’s helping this first year get better at hitting a ball that makes Nancy have to bury a grin.

All that she regrets is the ammunition that it gives the others for later.

"I didn’t know that you had turned into such a momma-bird," Robin teases, shoving Nancy with her hip as they head back to the castle for dinner. They had let Eddie and Steve hang back, the two of them making up excuses for why they had to linger. It is honestly kind of sweet to see the way that the two of them are so nervous around each other.

"Fuck off," Nancy snorts, glad that Davidson was walking far away enough that she probably couldn’t hear them. "I’m not."

"Really, it’s cute."

"Robin, genuinely, shut up."

"What? You’re feeling protective over your new apprentice? Your baby Padawan?"

Nancy laughs, giving Robin a gently bemused look. "You’ve lost me."

Robin flushes, the way she always does when she's forgotten the differences between this world and the non-magical one. "It’s a reference to a Muggle movie. Basically I’m just saying you’ve adopted Davidson."

"I have not!"

"Come on! Your proud look every time she makes a good interception is visible even from the stands."

Nancy shakes her head as she grins. "Maybe I’m just proud of what a good teacher I am."

Robin snorts, raising an eyebrow. "Well, either way, it’s sweet."

Nancy hates how she can genuinely feel the force of her blush as her cheeks radiate scarlet. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you aren't allowed to any more of our training sessions."

The look that Robin sends her is so loaded with disbelief that Nancy can’t stop the huff of laughter she lets loose. She doesn’t get that much time on her own with Robin anymore outside of the library — her life is torn between studying, Quidditch and worrying about whatever is going on with the Ministry. She’s struck for a moment by the same feeling that she’d had on the train when she saw Robin for the first time after summer — it’s a recognition of all that has come before between them. She still remembers when Robin looked even more awkward and gangly than she does now, and it’s a strangely bittersweet feeling to remember that they’re getting older. They only have two more years at Hogwarts after this, and Nancy feels her throat go dry at the thought of Robin going back to the Muggle world, or them splitting apart after Hogwarts. She might have mixed feelings about the school, but this castle has tied her and her friends together for years, and Nancy can’t help the sudden desperation that she feels to stop everything from changing so quickly.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" Nancy asks as casually as she can, trying to keep the odd surge of emotion under wraps. Robin’s eyes are almost obscured by the force of her smile when she turns to grin at Nancy.

"For sure. I’m getting bored of watching you fly about anyway."

"You could just join us," Nancy reminds her, already laughing as Robin shakes her head vehemently.

"Never again. I almost shit myself last time you took me flying."

Nancy sniffs, feigning bitter disappointment. "Well, good to know that you don’t appreciate our bonding time as much as I do. I’m just your tutor, huh?"

Robin laughs, holding her hands up in surrender as she widens her eyes. "No, no, I take it back."

"That’s what I thought."

————

Whilst Carol and Tommy might not be bothering her anymore, they haven’t disappeared. Nancy might be more ingratiated into the systems of Hogwarts than ever before, but that isn’t the same for everyone — in fact, she’s sure that they’re pushing people around more than ever before, that a worrying amount of students are gaining a hard and vicious edge to their teasing that was never there in the past. She does what she can, but a one-woman campaign won’t do anything to make people’s lives actually better; Nancy knows this better than most, that House points don’t make a lick of difference in the end. Realising that they’re terrorising others gives Nancy a similar feeling to the one that she had at Quidditch tryouts — it is disorientating to realise that she’s grown into something that people don’t see as vulnerable when so much of her life has been dominated by fear.

She attributes at least half of that to the gleaming prefect badge on her chest. Difficult to try shoving her into a broom closet when she can dock people House points. Carol and Tommy might be bullies, but they also know that even the worst types in Slytherin won’t side with them if they end up losing them too many points.

Gideon scoffs, nose high in the air even though there’s no one else around to look down on. "Why do you hang out with all those Hufflepuffs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, even if you are from a Gryffindor family, you’re Slytherin enough. Merlin, everyone thought you were the Heir in third year. You can do better than some stupid Puffs. Muggleborns as well," Gideon sneers, like he can’t imagine anything worse.

Every part of Nancy aches to tear him to pieces, to tell him just where he can stick his stupid ideas about blood purity, but this is the direction that the castle is heading in. His carelessness is only more evidence that divisions are deepening, that Hogwarts will always be a reflection of the rest of the wizarding world. What benefit does it give any of them for Nancy to tip her hand now?

"They’re not all bad," she says instead, shrugging like the very issue is beneath her. "Harrington is good enough to get some extra Quidditch practise in. I think Liu would bite my head off if I dragged her to any extra drills. And he’s too much of a Puff to think of rivalries."

Gideon shrugs, but there’s a doubtful tug to the corner of his mouth, and Nancy knows she isn’t selling it. "Still. It means you have to put up with Munson and Buckley though. Hardly worth it."

"I mean," Nancy pretends to scoff imperiously, "it’s a little entertaining sometimes."

"Like rats in a maze?"

The sharp, cruel grin he dons so casual makes a shiver run down Nancy’s spine, but she doesn’t show it. She’s used to plastering on a mask — if she’s survived all her years with Brenner, then she can fool this idiot. "Something like that. Don’t know if that’s an insult to rats, though."

Gideon laughs, high and braying, and Nancy forces herself to do the same, sending silent mental apologies towards the Hufflepuff dorms as they continue their rounds. For all her relief at the start of the year that Hogwarts had just seemed like the same old castle as before, the truth is that these days the shadows feel longer, the hallways gloomier, the dungeons colder. There had been an odd warmth to the drafty castle before that's missing now, and Nancy knows it's nothing to do with the flagstones and torches.

She thinks about evenings playing chess with Cassie. Imagines the stone pieces in her hands, the strange warmth of enchanted life to them, breaking apart and knitted again so easily.

Her pieces aren't quite so easily sacrificed.

————

It’s true that there’s nothing Nancy can do about the Ministry, but there is something that she can do about Pericles, their puppet in Hogwarts.

Even kids who hated Defence class last year seem to be restless now, barely even pretending to pay attention to their textbooks as they spend another class doing nothing but reading theory. Duelling Club had been suspended as well and Nancy finds herself having to bite almost through her tongue every lesson to stop herself from protesting — she knows that there is a threat out there, that this amounts to deadly negligence from the people supposed to be educating them, that, even if the Ministry is doing this out of good intentions, this can only end badly.

"Sir," she eventually says one class, and the surprise on Pericles’ face at someone even speaking up makes her grind her teeth with frustration even as she keeps her voice measured. "Are we going to do any practice for these techniques?"

Pericles raises a thin eyebrow. "Your education has been going successfully so far this year, Miss Wheeler. Why should we change tact now?"

Nancy can’t keep her scoff under her breath. "How would you know?"

"Excuse me?"

"How would you know if it is going successfully?"

Murmurs and whispers break out across the classroom, and Nancy can feel Cassie staring from the seat next to her, but Nancy doesn’t break eye contact with Pericles. He unfolds himself up from seat, all long and slender limbs, but it makes him look thin and breakable more than elegant or distinguished as he comes around to perch on the front of his desk. His eyes narrow and his lip curls under his sparse moustache, but his tone is mild and even when he eventually responds.

"The Ministry is of the belief that thorough study of the theory is all that is necessary for you all to become adept at defensive magic." He tilts his head in challenge, leaning forward to stare harder at her. The rest of the room goes quiet. "I understand Professor Brenner is a capable instructor, but recent rumours about the quality of teachers at Hogwarts has encouraged the Ministry to ensure that we will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry- approved course of defensive magic this year to bring you all up to the OWL-standard that is expected."

Despite what many would believe, Nancy is no fan of Brenner’s, but she can’t help the irritation that swells in her. Brenner never made her feel this helpless. In fact, it is too much the opposite.

"Much clever and more experienced wizards that you have devised this program of study, Miss Wheeler, so I acknowledge your protest, but I am afraid you are not qualified to decide what we are supposed to be doing here."

"Sorry," Cassie drawls, raising an eyebrow, "I thought I understood what the word ‘Defence’ entails."

Pericles’ pale skin flushes red at the further challenge, but he paints a strained smile across his face. "You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"


"What use is that?" Jonathan interrupts, and Nancy can’t help the way that her gaze jerks to him. "If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be in a controlled environment. It won’t be theoretical."

Pericles laughs, high and hollow. "Apologies, Mr Byers, but who do you believe may be waiting to attack you?"

"Men like Carroll? Besides, isn't there a practical part of the OWL exam?" Someone else pipes up, apparently joining the wave of students who are now waving their hands in the air, comparatively politely waiting to lodge their own complaints. Nancy has never seen Hogwarts students so involved in the theory of their own education. Pericles wipes a hand across his brow, a nervous tic that seems to reveal his frustration before his expression snaps back into a mild smile.

"Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination. As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

"Without ever practicing them before?" Nancy laughs incredulously. "Fine if you didn’t like Duelling Club, but we’ve always practised in class. No one is going to wait politely for us to figure out wand movements in the real world."

"This is school, Miss Wheeler, not the real world," Pericles says softly, his voice lowered dangerously. "There is nothing waiting for you, there is no one who will attack you. The Ministry keeps you all safe."

"The Ministry couldn’t even keep Bauman out of Hogwarts," Jonathan snaps back, angrier than she’s ever seen him. "Or keep Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and Chrissy Cunningham safe."

Deathly silence falls, heavy and fragile. Nancy doesn’t even shift in her seat to see all the people she knows are looking for, but she does tilt her chin up just the slightest amount. People can believe what they want, she reminds herself — besides, most have moved past the idea that it was her between the high level of magic necessary and the fact that the murders haven’t continued. It’s always tempting to believe something sensational, Nancy knows, but what matters more is that Jonathan is right. The Ministry didn’t protect Will or anyone who Vecna had killed that year, or El. The Ministry didn’t protect Barb, didn’t even care that she was gone.

Pericles looks out at all of them from his position at the front of the room, his gaze oppressive and suffocating. His mild expression is fixed in place but the contempt seeps through. "Certain rumours have led you all to falsely believe that a Death Eater infiltrated Hogwarts last year. Not only are these claims vile and untrue, but they are dangerous. There is nothing for you to do here but listen and learn and trust in the Ministry and your teachers to keep you safe and guide you until you are ready to leave Hogwarts and go out into our world. Until then, it is best if you follow the advice of those much wiser than you. You may have been told that you are full of potential, that you are the future of our society. Potential is easy to waste and futures collapse."

Nancy goes to snap back, to directly address his negligence, but Cassie places a steadying hand on her arm and shakes her head as imperceptibly as she can. Nancy snaps her mouth closed, trying her best to take some calming breaths, to push through the boiling frustration and impatience, but she almost bites clean through the inside of her cheek as she seethes. Pericles gives her a condescendingly smug look as he returns to his seat, gesturing for the class to return to their textbooks with a flick of his hand towards the chalkboard.

Nancy fumes to herself for the rest of the lesson and shoots to her feet the second that it ends, but Pericles stops her with a raised hand and a hard look, waiting for the other students to filter slowly out of the room before he informs her, in a soft voice, "Miss Wheeler. I expect to see you this evening for detention."

It’s all Nancy can do to stop herself from scoffing. Jonathan, who is half out the door, turns around like he’s about to protest, but Pericles silences him with a glare. Jonathan doesn’t quite manage to keep the anger off his own face, but when their eyes meet a second later, it melts into something unsure. Nancy fights to swallow her conflicting guilt and frustration, and it’s her who breaks the eye contact first.

She’s not surprised to find Cassie leaning languorously against the wall when she leaves the classroom, and the other girl falls easily into step besides her as Nancy storms down the corridor.

"Detention?"

"Yeah."

Cassie hums evenly. "There’s nothing that we can do about him," she tells her, the rest of the students who are sending them odd looks. Nancy knows that the outburst she had in class doesn’t reflect the Slytherin philosophy of never letting people see your emotions, but this is almost a more insidious enemy than Carroll had been.

"It’s ridiculous," she huffs. "Last year wasn’t a one-off."

"What, you think Pericles is one too?" Cassie presses, raising her eyebrows when Nancy shakes her head absently.

"No, no, he’s Ministry through and through. I mean that Carroll isn’t alone. Vecna is still out there. There are other people working for him too. And we can’t even practise defending ourselves in a classroom?"

Cassie shrugs. "What choice do we have, Nancy? You can’t get a detention every class for calling him out. This is exactly the kind of shit that you tell Mike off for. You can’t be this reckless."

Nancy sighs. "I know. I just hate feeling this helpless."

Cassie knocks their shoulders together, a rare moment of contact for them that breaks the tightness in Nancy’s frame just slightly. "Take your ego down a few notches," she tells her, not unkindly, and Nancy laughs.

"Got it," she bites back, pushing the frustration down and away until she can breathe just a little easier as they head to Charms. She’ll just have to see how detention goes.

Nancy isn’t deaf to the way that whispers fly throughout the Slytherins the rest of the day. She has gotten through the past years and the growing tension in the castle by playing the part of the perfect student, not by showing her cards like this. Thankfully, she can somewhat pass off her protest through everyone’s disdain for Pericles’ teaching, not the political implications of it. Only certain members of Slytherin with parents high up in the Ministry might even be paying enough attention to what’s happening, and even that could be a stretch.

Cassie gives her a raised eyebrow when she leaves the Slytherin common room that evening which she supposes she is meant to take as a ‘good luck’. It’s still early enough in the autumn that the sun is only just beginning to paint the hallways amber through the thick window panes, the drafty stone castle still feeling cold enough that Nancy draws her cloak a little tighter around herself as she knocks on Pericles door. She supposes that he and Brenner should have switched rooms after Pericles took the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, but, even if he seems to be gracious about the swap, Nancy can hardly imagine Brenner bowing to something like that.

"Come in," a mild and even voice commands, and Nancy slips inside, her footsteps echoing against the flagstones as she approaches the desk set up in front of Pericles’ teacher’s desk at the front of the room. He watches her, beady eyes black and flat and expressionless as she approaches.

"Good evening, Miss Wheeler," he smiles, like he’s genuinely pleased to see her. Nancy nods, giving him a tight smile as she returns the greeting. She only realises that her fingernails are digging bloody crescents into her palm when she feels a sharp jolt of pain and has to remind herself to relax as she unfurls her fist in the safety of her robes pocket.

"I think an appropriate punishment for your earlier behaviour would be for you to write out some lines this evening. And every evening this week."

He hadn’t mentioned any more detention sessions earlier, but Nancy knows he wants her to protest so she says nothing, just nods. It’s a dismissive kind of disinterest that she’s trying — a message that there’s nothing that Pericles can do that will intimidate her into following the Ministry’s education program. Lines are a paltry attempt either way, but Pericles doesn’t look put off or surprised. If anything, there’s a glimmer of vicious anticipation in him. Nancy feels a sudden surge of uncertainty rock her, but she keeps her expression flat.

"What would you like me to write, sir?"

"How about, ‘I will obey my elders’?"

Nancy holds back a snort, and moves towards the desk. Placed by a piece of blank parchment, apparently waiting for her, is a long and thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. In the half-gloom of the torchlit classroom, it glimmers like a knife’s edge.

"You haven’t given me any ink," Nancy says, but Pericles just raises a cool eyebrow.

"You won’t need any," he counters, his mild smile turning just the slightest bit mean for a second. The flickering shadows almost make Nancy call the light in his eyes cruel as he very deliberately motions for her to sit with his gaze.

Nancy feels something in her stomach twist and churn with dread as she takes a seat, holding the quill in her hand for just a second before she begins to write. Pericles seems only to stare at his own paperwork as she does so, but the moment that Nancy starts writing, she swears he’s holding his breath with anticipation.

A sharp pain cuts through the back of her hand as she scrawls what looks like red ink blooming across the parchment, glimmering scarlet in the half-light. The loops and swoops of her own handwriting are familiar, as is the stinging feeling of a knife slicing open her skin. She tilts her hand and fights not to hiss at the pain as she watches the skin knit together once more, the only lingering evidence the slightly red tint that stands out from her usual paleness. Her hand looks good as new, as though it had never happened. As though Pericles can wipe this away as easily as the Ministry glosses over everything happening out there too.

"Problem, Miss Wheeler?" Pericles’ voice cuts sharply through, and Nancy raises her gaze to stare at him. There’s a smugness to him now, in the perfect set of his shoulders, in the way that he leans over his desk to look at her, like he wants to savour the sight of his victory. He thinks he’s won.

There’s a lot Nancy could do. She could swear and curse. She could wait and tell Brenner. She could get up and leave, bringing the quill with her as evidence. An almost infinite expanse of choices spread before her and yet she knows she’ll do nothing. After all, Nancy knows how to play the game.

She gives him a smile, purposefully tight and anxious at the edges. "Of course not, sir."

Pericles makes a noise of agreement, amused and victorious. Nancy ducks her head accordingly and continues writing her lines until he tells her to stop, her hand stinging painfully and night descending outside the windows. The cuts have deepened from the repetition, oozing blood slowly and sluggishly with each beat of her heart. It’s stained the white of her shirtsleeve around the cuff. Pericles stands over her, staring down at her blood-covered parchment until he seems satisfied, dismissing her with a flick of his chin. As though this was all perfectly normal practice. Nancy leaves with her shoulders up by her ears, the picture of defeat. Let him think that she’s a problem solved, she thinks viciously to herself. Then he’ll never see her coming.

The hallways are deserted and it has to be almost curfew, so she’s surprised when Jonathan peels off from his station leaning against the wall of the corridor. He’d clearly been waiting a long time, his bottom lip bitten red in worry, and his gaze darts straight to her hand. She stuffs it hurriedly into her pocket, hoping to avoid the concern in his features.

"Nancy," he starts, full of worry and reproach at the same time, and Nancy has to fight not to roll her eyes.

"I’m fine, Jonathan," she tells him, snappish only because this is not the problem it could be. Her Epsikey spell is decent and the magic of the quill is clearly meant to let the cuts heal up to a certain point. She may have been there for hours, but the wound is not so bad that she’ll suffer for it.

Jonathan clearly doesn’t agree. "Stop being stubborn," he sighs impatiently, standing in front of her in an effort to bodily stop her from walking away from her. Nancy scowls, seeing that he won’t be dissuaded, and takes him by the elbow, dragging him along until they’re around the corner and far enough that Pericles won’t be able to overhear them.

"It’ll heal," she stresses, knowing there’s no point in acting like he hadn’t seen her bleeding. To prove her own point, she brings her hand up for him to see and murmurs Episkey under her breath, and they both watch as the skin knits back together, only smears of scarlet remaining. The skin smarts and stings just a little as Nancy flexes her fingers. Jonathan doesn’t look placated, though.

"How did he even do that?"

"Magic quill," Nancy shrugs, and Jonathan scowls.

"You have to tell someone. Do something. I don’t know, but he can’t just do that to you!"

"Don’t be an idiot, Jonathan," she sighs, the weariness in her tone undercutting her scorn enough that Jonathan only looks slightly wounded as he stares at her. "Do you think he’s doing this to everyone? That little first years are walking around with bleeding palms because they were late to class or forgot their homework?"

"This isn’t about anyone else." Jonathan shoots back, and Nancy fights the urge to shove him as he steps closer. It’s like he thinks proximity will give his words more impact.

"Exactly," she hisses. "He saw a problem. He thinks he’s fixed it."

Jonathan’s a smart guy, but his brow is furrowed with confusion. Nancy is reminded of the way that Mike had glared at her at the start of the year, after his first detention. They’re all the same, really, under the surface. They all have the same anger, same exhaustion, same fear that keeps them marching forward. But this is about who can put up the biggest fight. This is about who can win.

"Pericles isn’t going to go away because we kick up a fuss in class or tell him he’s a negligent teacher. That just gives him ammunition, lets the Ministry know who isn’t conforming to what they want, tells whoever’s on Vecna’s side who might be a problem. There are other things that we can do, but crying to Owens won’t achieve anything. We just have to tell the others, the kids, that it's more important than ever to stay quiet."

It takes a second before Jonathan nods, looking almost defeated. As always, he wears his emotions plainly on his face, and Nancy can’t help the hurt she feels at the depth of the sadness in him. It’s layered: it aches that she can’t read Jonathan as well as she used to, back when she knew what he wanted, but it also stings that she knows he still cares about her. Jonathan, before anything, has always just been her friend. After all, the reason things have been so tense is because he cared too much, not too little.

"Jonathan," she manages, swallowing past something difficult. She can’t tell him that things are going to be okay, because she doesn’t know that, but she has to do something. "We’ll think of something, okay? We aren’t just going to lie down."

The smile he gives her is mournful. "I know. I’m sorry."

She knows that he’s apologising for more than just this conversation. All of a sudden, Nancy feels overwhelmingly tired — a kind of exhaustion that sinks bone deep and never leaves, that weighs and strains and drags until it’s all that’s left. She had been angry at Jonathan for reducing her to something to be saved, for putting his guilt on her, for avoiding it rather than facing his feelings and talking to her. She’s still so angry. At Pericles, at the Ministry, at Vecna. At everything but not with Jonathan. That anger isn’t doing her any good anymore, even if it was righteous. Even if it was justified.

"I am too," she manages, and knows he understands. "Come on. OWL Charms revision isn’t going to wait for us to revolt against our professor."

Jonathan cracks a genuinely warm smile — a rarity from him — as they part ways and head off to their separate Houses and, though Nancy had Robin and Eddie and Steve, she can’t deny that something in her chest stitches back together a little bit.

————

She supposes that she should have expected the cold command to wait that rings out after her Transfiguration lesson a few days after her confrontation with Pericles.

"I hear that you got yourself a detention, Miss Wheeler," Brenner begins, barely looking at her as he shuffles through the loose papers that are spread across his desk.

Nancy tries not to stiffen too much. "Yes, sir," she mumbles, raising one shoulder in the picture of a reproachful and sheepish student — already appropriately scolded, so no need for anything more, thank you, Professor. He looks up, a blank expression on his face.

"Most unlike you."

She decides not to point out that she got a detention last year as well, though she supposes that Hopper is far less likely to go around boasting about that kind of thing as Pericles might be. She wonders for a moment if Brenner knows to look at her hand, if he's thinking about the scars that might trace careful words across Nancy's skin in her own script. If so, he's careful about not showing it, his eyes now fixed on hers. "Care to explain?"

Nancy tries not to feel too chided by the fact that this is almost a carbon copy of the conversation that she had had with Mike earlier in the year. "I took issue with Professor Pericles' teaching methods. It won't happen again, sir."

Brenner lets out a little noise that might be a laugh, or perhaps a disdainful scoff. "Well. Not much point in practising Occlumency when you just go shouting out your thoughts for anyone to hear, is there?"

Nancy's surprised by how deeply she flushes. It's more than just a reaction to being scolded by a figure of authority — she's genuinely annoyed and ashamed with herself, if she's played it to her advantage in the end. Pericles might think that she's a problem solved, but it's her who advertised herself as a problem in the first place. This isn't what she's spent so much time putting up with Brenner for. This isn't what she's sacraficed her honesty for.

"I know, sir. It was a mistake."

Brenner sighs. "Indeed. Well, Pericles is an idiot."

She can't help the sharp way that her head jolts up to look at him. "Professor?"

"You may have been foolish to declare it, but you're not wrong. Of course, I would never speak ill of the Ministry. I can see why he was granted the position: pureblood, educated, well regarded as an administrator previously." What could be a smile pulls slightly at Brenner's features, condescending to Nancy and Pericles' in the same point. She tries not to start at the casual way that he talks about Pericles' blood status as though that had anything to do with the problem at hand. She supposes that now, perhaps, it does. "He is simply an insufficient instructor."

Nancy has the distinct impression that she's standing in quicksand right now — one wrong move and she'll start sinking. "It's a shame you aren't still teaching Defence, sir," she tries, keeping the Ministry's course standards entirely out of the conversation. Brenner sends an odd look. If it was anyone else, she might call his expression fond as he shakes his head.

"Regardless. If Pericles was really willing to deliver on the Ministry's instructions, he'd outline the danger that Muggles are starting to pose to our wizarding world," Brenner says, almost callous in his carelessness, as if Nancy disagreeing isn't even a possibility to him. She stiffens, because this is the most outright he's ever been about what side he falls on, even if that was never in doubt. Still, Nancy knows when she's presented with an opportunity.

"Sir?"

"Haven't you noticed all the officials going missing? Muggle sympathisers, trying to weaken our government."

It's a sanitised version of the prejudice gaining momentum in the halls. There's no trace of such claims in the Prophet, of course, because the Ministry would rather stick its head in the sand than acknowledge what is happening, but statements like this are rapidly becoming the face of blood purists' political schemes. When it might be too impolite to outright say that they want anyone with a trace of Muggle blood gone, they opt for outlandish stories of half-bloods and muggleborns working to undermine the wizarding world.

Nancy tilts her head, the picture of the attentive student, considering her mentor's words. "That's awful. Why wouldn't the Prophet report that, sir? They only mention the missing officials."

Brenner's eyes gleam like a shark that smells blood in the water. "Because they're cowards," he says smoothly, raising an eyebrow like he thinks she should know this already. "But the Ministry and the pureblood families are taking this opportunity to reinforce our nation. Headmaster Owens or Professor Hopper may disagree, but it's what is needed."

Like the Ministry is anything except under siege, she thinks to herself, trying not to scowl. She might think Coleman is an idiot, but he's no Death Eater. Nancy snorts, smiling in the conspiratorial way that he knows he's expecting from her. Like they're both in on the same joke. After all, this is the first time that he's ever mentioned Owens. She's not surprised to hear that Brenner has it out for Hopper — the two of them are known to hate each other, plus Hopper is clearly on the Light side — but Owens always struck her as more neutral than anything. Maybe that's something to be revised.

Still, she weighs her words carefully before responding. Somehow Brenner has managed to walk the thin line between disparaging the Ministry and praising it: calling Pericles what he is but defending the program. Nancy resists the urge to shift on her feet as though the flagstones beneath her shoes were as precarious as her ground in this conversation. "Well, thank Merlin. Didn't know Minister Coleman had it in him," she grins, the same way that some of her father's friends do at their incessant dinner parties, gathered around in each others' grand dining rooms, discussing the state of the nation over glass after glass of firewhisky.

Brenner smiles, smooth and empty, though she's sure she detects a slant of pride to it as well. It makes a sick shiver run down her spine. "Indeed. Off you go to your next class, Miss Wheeler. And keep out of detention."

"Understood, sir," she nods, ducking her head as she turns and heads out of the classroom, her mind racing. After all, if someone as careful as Brenner thinks he's safe showing his hand, things are worse than they seem.

The next day, Nancy still finds the conversation replaying over and over in the back of her mind as she leans on the wall out the castle entrance, waiting for Robin. It's impossible to know if she's played it right with Brenner, but anxiety churns in her stomach either way. At least she's using the strange protégé relationship Brenner seems to believe that they have to her advantage, Nancy tells herself as she watches her breath crystallize in the air before her. It's only just starting to get cold enough for it to turn to mist, and she tugs her robes tight around herself as a loud and clumsy series of footsteps sounds against the stone corridor.

Robin comes bursting out into the late autumn afternoon, cheeks already flushed and with apologies spilling from her lips. "Sorry, sorry, I know I'm late. Steve was being a pain, I swear it isn't my fault."

Nancy finds herself smiling before she's even really taken in Robin's words. "It's fine. I'm happy to blame Steve."

Robin's face turns even redder, if that were possible, but there's a tugging at the corner of her lips like she's holding back a smug grin. "I think he's going into town with Eddie. They're tagging along with the kids, of course, because God forbid they do anything that might be a date."

Nancy laughs, shrugging. "It's kind of sweet. You wouldn't think they'd even get on so well, you know? And funny that the kids like them so much."

Robin wrinkles her nose like she might think different, but she's grinning too. "It's definitely something. Maybe sweet in the beginning but I can only take so much of Steve's pining, Nancy."

"Is that why you didn't go with them?" She dares to ask, trying to hold back the tightness in her chest that might be something like hope.

Robin shrugs. "Kind of. Also just nice to see you without your head being buried in a book. Or the clouds. You're booked and busy, Wheeler."

Nancy tries not to flush and bites back the frantic assurance that leaps halfway out her throat that she always wants to spend time with Robin. "Don't complain too much," she says instead, "you also get to see me when my head is buried in a cauldron."

"True," Robin laughs, shrugging. "You're doing wonders for my grade, but honestly OWLs are kicking my ass anyway."

"I think they're kicking everyone's ass, to be honest," Nancy admits, though she colours a little at Robin's incredulous look. "Come on, you know how much I study."

Robin laughs, rough and melodic at the same time, and Nancy feels her toes curl in her shoes as she fights to keep her expression even. "That's true. Maybe I'll just sit next to you in all the exams. You'd let me take a peek, right?"

Nancy raises an eyebrow. "Sure, for you," she says, before she realises it, and Robin grins, sharp and rakish.

"Good to know."

"Oh, fuck off, or I'll abandon you to study with Steve."

Hogsmeade comes into view as Robin bites her lips, pretending to consider the threat. "As much as I love the guy, for the sake of my grades, I guess I'll shut up."

"Wise choice," Nancy informs her primly as they descend into the village. It doesn't take long for her breath to catch in her chest, though, as she looks around. She hasn’t spent much time in Hogsmeade so far this year, and she’s surprised by how much it has changed. Certain shops are gone, and the little village simply has a different air to it. Maybe the rumour of a Death Eater teaching at Hogwarts had driven some shopkeepers away, Nancy thinks, and feels the memory of their reality wash over her like a sharp dousing of cold water.

The change feels unexpected, even when she knew that things had been getting worse. She’s surprised by how much it makes her chest hurt.

Like she can read her mind, Robin gives her a sad little smile — nothing pleased in it. "It’s happening everywhere, I think. Did you see Diagon Alley this summer?"

Wordlessly, Nancy shakes her head. Her parents had ordered her, Mike’s and Max’s things. It had only taken a little begging from Mike and some quietly strategic comments from Nancy for the two to crumble to the pressure to include Max in everything. If her parents had been the sentimental type, she would have said they would have called Max their own. Given that they weren't, she figures it is up to her and Mike to do so.

Robin’s mouth twists, an ugly expression settling across her features. "A lot of closed shops," she says, cutting it uncharacteristically short. Nancy feels her stomach tighten and churn. A familiar anger rises in her, and it hurts her a little more every time to bite it back.

"Merlin. I wish there was something we could do."

"Steve says the same," Robin jokes half-heartedly, though there's something that glimmers, unreadable, in her eyes. ."If only there was something to punch."

"Or curse," Nancy offers, watching the way that Robin's features twist.

"Well, if we ever run into more Death Eaters, that sounds like a plan." She gives her a soft smile, and Nancy feels herself flush scarlet. There's something about being pinned under Robin's gaze, something that makes Nancy's very insides squirm with a truth she refuses to acknowledge. Still, there's also a reticence to it — she knows Robin is hiding something. It's just a case of what.

The thought is quickly forgotten and almost completely buried as they flit through Hogsmeade, stocking up on quills and sweets and books. The Three Broomsticks is warm as they drink Butterbeer, Nancy's face in the grubby mirrors flushed scarlet from the cold and the fire and the company. She almost feels what some might call normal as they walk back to the castle together, Robin cracking jokes that seem purpose made to get Nancy to roll her eyes and groan. Like there's nothing bigger in the world to care about than weekend shopping and finding more ways to put off writing their latest essay and gossiping about Steve and Eddie.

Like the whole world is just the two of them.

Still, though, later, a little ember of a thought burns and smoulders in the back of Nancy's mind, and she can't put that out so easily.

————

As the winter progresses and Christmas nears, the usual rhythms of Hogwarts absorb her, greater expectations and pressures placed on them from the professors than ever before as incessant reminders of this being their OWLs year pile up. Nancy would feel overwhelmed if she hadn't claimed a permanent table in the library from basically her first day in the castle. As it is, she finds her friends joining her more and more often — the balance that they try to strike is almost amusing: it's clear that they don't want to come across as entitled to her help, but Steve clearly realised a long time ago that if he makes puppy dog eyes at her across the table for long enough, she'll cave and huddle over whatever textbook is plaguing him eventually to point out where he's going wrong. It's a strategy that Eddie and Robin catch onto and employ with reckless abandon.

Cassie thinks that she's become too soft, and Nancy finds herself agreeing more often than not. Still, she never says no, and never really finds herself wanting too, either. It's more than inclusion — it's the soft warmth in her chest that comes from the knowledge that there's something tangible she can do to make at least some things around her better.

What throws her off, though, is how often she sees her brother and his friends lingering in the stacks, intently flipping through various books, muttering under their breath to each other. It's not that she doesn't think they are good students, more that she's inherently suspicious of anything Mike might be whispering about these days. She's too familiar with what actually happens at Hogwarts, to El Ives, for her to believe that they aren't up to something.

As if proving her point, the whole bunch of them appear in the Great Hall at dinner one evening, an amorphous huddle of black robes and mixed trims and house colours, and Nancy just knows that something is wrong. It might be the strangely hunched set of Max's shoulders when she had never known the younger girl to be anything but uncompromising and stubborn, or the sickly pallor of Dustin's face, like things had escaped his control, his sphere of knowledge and understanding. It's strange to see, an odd kind of inexplicable defeat to them when they have so long behaved like they're immortal in all of this.

She flicks through the pages of that day's Prophet, delivered every morning by Perrie like that means Nancy could change anything, but she can't think of anything in the news that would make them react like this. Which means that it's something else, and, if it's to do with Vecna or the Death Eaters, it means that they're branching off on their own. Again.

Nancy huffs to herself, a climbing ache in her chest and throat that she only gets when she's annoyed, but it falters when she catches a better look at Max. It's not obvious, but it's her that's the focus of the huddle, her that all the kids have their eyes turned to. Her with a piece of cloth wrapped around her hand.

Pericles.

She moves to stand before she's even though it through, standing half-crouched over the Slytherin table when her brother makes eye contact with her and scowls so fiercely that she feels herself freeze in place. Nancy watches, numb even to her own anger and frustration, as Mike whispers something to his friends and they all, rather unsubtly, turn to look at her for a flash. A range of emotion seems to be painted plainly across their faces — she thinks, strangely enough, that it's guilt that carves through Max's features, and worry through Will's. El eyes her with her passive interest, something pinning about her gaze.

Still, ultimately, they all turn away, huddling closer until they ultimately get up to leave, Max still concealed by the mass of black cloaks and limbs that wrap around her. Nancy knows something happened, knows that it was Pericles and his detention and his quills. And, yet, she still is sure that there's something she's on the outside of, something that she knows is being kept from her.

Cassie watches her huff with an amused look, raising a wordless eyebrow at Nancy's petulant pout until she can't physically keep her frustration in anymore.

"Do you ever feel like everyone is in on something and you aren't?"

"No," Cassie counters dryly. "I pride myself on knowing everything."

"Asshole," Nancy mutters, pushing her peas around her plate. She doesn't even know why she took any — she has all the power in the world to make up her own plate and yet she can still hear her mother's voice in her ear telling her to make sure she eats more vegetables, cuts back on carbs. She bites bitterly down on a carrot, the taste like ash in her mouth.

Cassie watches her carefully for a second, a flash of a serious expression settling on her features for only a moment, before she leans back and thinks over Nancy's words for real. "I mean, of course. You and the others only brought me in on your secret crime solving gang last year. I just had to assume that you were covered in blood for normal reasons before that."

"That was one time. And there were extenuating circumstances, you need to let it go. Plus, if I remember right, you did in fact immediately believe I hadn't killed anyone."

Cassie snorts. "That's just because I think you're too lame to have been Heir."

Nancy rolls her eyes, resisting the urge to throw her bread roll at Cassie's smug face. "Wow. Morality. So lame."

"Yeah, exactly," Cassie agrees easily, "now you sound like a real Slytherin."

Nancy sighs, raking a hand through her hair as she stares her friend down. "Have I ever told you you're a dick?"

"Multiple times, actually."

"Well, you are."

"Thanks," Cassie grins, taking another prim bite of her lunch. "Now tell me what you think the others are in on that we aren't. Because I promise, I never know more than you do about what those assholes are up to."

Any lightness that had taken hold of her quickly dissipates as Nancy is reminded of what's been hanging over her. Cassie doesn't hide the laugh that rises in her at the scowl Nancy knows she's wearing. "I don't know. I just know that they're lying about something. Or at least not telling me."

Cassie considers her for a moment before leaning forward across the table, her elbows firmly planted in a way that they both know her mother would smack her for. "Have I ever told you that you're a control freak?"

"Oh, fuck you," Nancy sighs, rolling her eyes. "And, yeah, probably at some point," she admits as Cassie cackles, finally undignified in her delightedness.

"You need to relax. The whole world isn't on your shoulders and you can't fix everything. If they're hiding something, then figure it out. Or don't. It doesn't have to be your responsibility."

"And when they get themselves in trouble?"

Cassie shrugs. "You can tell them you told them so?"

"I don't know if I get the kick out of doing that everyone believes I do."

A dry smile stretching across her face, Cassie leans across the table. "Yeah, you do, Wheeler."

Nancy can't help the way she huffs a soft laugh, Cassie able to coax some irritated amusement out of her as always. "Alright. Just a little."

"It's not like they'll listen to you anyway."

"Did you see Mayfield's palm?"

Nancy hadn't had to have the same argument with Cassie as she did with Jonathan after her detention with Pericles. The other girl had instead taken one look at Nancy's palm and nodded in understanding when she had explained about the quill and the blood and the lines. Sh enow takes a quiet moment to be grateful for that — she thinks, with everything that's happened since she was eleven and knobbly-kneed and terrified of the Sorting Hat as it sat on her head, Hogwarts would have been much harder without the simple and easy understanding that Cassie had always given her. So, there's no edge of fear to revealing what she thinks might have happened. Cassie is a vault when it matters.

"Shit. He's still doing it?"

Nancy shrugs, trying to look unaffected even as she feels a delayed bite of guilt. Maybe if she had spoken up, this wouldn't have even happened. The quills would have been taken away, Pericles removed from the school. She sucks in a breath, willing herself to steel. "I think so."

Cassie chews carefully for a moment, humming as she twirls her fork through the air in thought. "It's not like you can make them tell you anything by force. Just keep yourself around, I guess. Talk to Mayfield, say that you can heal her palm. She's been less actively aggressive since she lives with you, right?"

Nancy huffs a sigh, wilting slightly. "Yeah, I guess that's the best I can do."

"Oh, get over yourself, Wheeler," Cassie sneers easily, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like I tell you everything, or you me. Make them want to. Are you a Slytherin or aren't you?"

"Isn't that the question?" Nancy shoots back easily, and it would sound poisonous to anyone else, but Cassie grins and laughs like that's exactly what she would have expected her to say, shooing her up from the table and out the Hall with a wave of her fork as she pulls Declan into a conversation about whether she should take NEWT level Potions.

Of course, where the kids go, Steve and Eddie are close behind these days, so she isn't necessarily surprised to be pulled aside by the two of them, Robin too, and dragged outside. The winter air is biting and cold, a bracing wind making Nancy stiffen, but it at least means that no one is around to hear their conversation.

"Do you know about what Pericles has been doing?" Steve grinds out, though it's clearly more of a rhetorical question. He goes to launch into a rant, about to explain about the detentions and the lines, but Eddie stops him, a contemplative look on his face.

Eddie's always been the best at reading people.

"You already knew, didn't you Wheeler?"

"What?" Robin whips around to look at her, hurt etched into her features and making her angry expression waver and fall. "No, Nance?"

She takes a breath, careful to keep her tone neutral even as guilt churns in her stomach. She had wanted to tell them — sort of. It had been easier not to in the end. "Yeah, I knew. He did it to me."

"What?" Robin repeats, already shaking her head, determined not to believe this. "Why didn't you say anything? We could have helped! We could have gone to Owens, or something!"

Nancy tries not to sigh too obviously. Remorse and guilt, for one of the only times since her detention and her choice to hide it, eats at her insides. She hadn't wanted Max to get hurt, hadn't wanted the others to think she didn't trust them. "I thought it was better to let him think the problem had been solved. Pericles isn't handing out that punishment to just anyone. It's targeted to the people who cause trouble for whatever Ministry agenda he is serving. Denying Vecna and Carroll and Death Eaters being back, or whatever. Making a fuss with Owens wouldn't have fixed anything."

Eddie bites at his lip, looking conflicted. "I mean, I know teachers suck and everything, and I know Carroll was literally evil, but are we really just not trusting any kind of authority anymore?"

It's kind of sweet the way that, despite his image, he's so willing to cling onto the hope of other people being able to solve their problems. Nancy shakes her head at him, but it's Steve, with his puppy dog pout, that she focuses on. "Pericles is just some Ministry puppet. I don't know if it's for Coleman or for whoever is leading the charge for Death Eaters in the Ministry, but it's not for Owens. Even if he got fired or punished, that wouldn't be fixing the issue of why he's here."

Something strange overtakes the expressions of all three of them, and Robin goes to say something before she huffs and crosses her arms across her chest, looking put out and annoyed. Oddly, though, Nancy doesn't think it's with her. "So, what? How do we stop him?"

Nancy shrugs, feeling more than a little helpless as she does so. Like a child playing at something too big for them to understand. Is she the chessmaster or is she not even at the board? "I'm not sure yet. Make sure the kids know that it isn't worth talking back, that that's what he's looking for?"

Steve shakes his head, frustrated and angry. "It's not just about the kids, Nancy. What about everyone else?"

"What am I supposed to do, Steve?" She presses, and it's meant to come out angry but there's a pleading edge to it that rings out from inside her in an uncomfortably honest way, like a discordant set of strings have been struck and now the sound is out there. She can't take it back, and, if it means Steve can give her the answer, she doesn't want to. He doesn't look away, something aching coming across his face, like guilt and hurt and shame all mixed together, and Nancy knows that there's something he isn't telling her. That all of them aren't telling her.

She can put enough of the pieces together, she just doesn't know what picture she's being kept from.

The scoff she lets out is stiff and hard. "I'm trying. I didn't tell you guys what Pericles did because I knew you'd want to tell Owens. I told Jonathan to tell everyone to just keep quiet to try and make sure they'd be safe. I'm trying to think of how to counteract him, but I just don't know how."

Something seems to crumble in Robin as she hangs her head low, and Steve and Eddie nod, looking awkward. "I know," Eddie manages, still seeming hurt. "We just were worried about you."

"Like I said, I told Jonathan to keep you guys safe."

Steve tuts, irritation bleeding through in the way that he rakes a hand through his hair. It's getting overgrown and wild with how much he tugs at it these days, a habit that he's picked up from both Eddie and Robin. Seeing the tick makes Nancy's heart burn with affection even now, an equally disorientating and grounding feeling. She wants to feel the anger and frustration that would keep her on even keel in an argument, that would let her be right, let her assert herself. Instead, Nancy finds herself reminded of how odd it is for Steve to fight with anyone at all, at least when it comes to his friends. It’s concern that bleeds through the edges of his pursed lip smile, not anger. "Not just because of that, Nance," he snaps lightly, "we were worried about you. How is your hand?"

Nancy flushes, shuffling on her feet at the question. "It's fine," she mutters, suddenly awkward. "My Episky spell is good and I think the quill is supposed to let it heal a bit. There's not even really a scar anymore."

Eddie huffs, an exhale of breath that tickles her neck as he pulls her into a quick rough hug. It's surprisingly tight, insistent in a way that soothes something ticking anxiously away in Nancy's chest, and she finds herself smiling when he pulls away. "Next time you get tortured by a psychopathic teacher, tell us, Wheeler," he tells her, smiling nervously in the way that he always does when he's being sentimental.

Robin laughs, cocking an eyebrow. "Well, then she'd have to tell us any time that she went to Brenner's class."

Steve shakes his head, more fondly this time, and he snorts a half-laugh that makes Nancy think she's maybe forgiven. If there was something to forgive in the first place. She's still not sure that she was wrong for not telling them, but she knows that she'd have been worried for them if the positions were reversed. She supposes that knowledge is enough for now.

They're still lying to her about something, she knows, and it stings and aches, but Robin doesn't even look chidingly at her as she catches Nancy by the wrist and insists on looking at every inch of the pale skin on the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she says, the words suddenly coming now that she can speak them low and quiet to just Robin. There's a split second of tense silence as Robin looks at her, and Nancy realises just how close she is as she watches her cornflower eyes.

Robin shakes her head, looking achingly remorseful but clearly not willing to confess whatever she's hiding. "It's fine," she manages, a soft and sad smile pulling at her features. "I was just worried. I'm glad you're okay."

Though she's still stung by the secrets, Nancy finds that she actually is. Okay, that is. At least right now.

————

It's a stupid slip in the end that does it. Really, if Nancy were less of an uptight person, she might have found the strength and humour in herself to rub it in their face that they clearly needed her, if only to keep them from exposing themselves to everyone with ears walking through the hallways. If she hadn't had expected this, had picked up on all the whispers she's missed, all the looks that go behind her back, Nancy would maybe feel the hurt more sharply, instead of a dull ache.

"We need to figure out how to recruit more people without exposing ourselves," Mike is saying as her and Gideon stop outside the classroom having caught the sound of voices when it's after curfew. Nancy feels her heart sink in her chest at the realisation that it is Mike that she can hear, but Gideon obviously hasn't realised that as he advances on the door, wand out. She's not quite sure what he thinks he's going to be doing with it — there's not exactly going to be a duel in the corridor over some students sneaking out and some docked House Points.

"The curse stops people from telling anyone," what sounds like Dustin counters, and Nancy resists the urge to rub at her forehead in an attempt to relieve the stress headache that's building. Knowing her luck, it'll be the whole gang of kids in there, huddled around some table, planning on bringing down the castle and half of magical Britain all on their own. "You told me to protect the Party. Recruiting kind of depends on being able to talk about it."

"Obviously," Max drawls, and Gideon's grin only grows with the promise of being able to dock points for so many students. Nancy wonders if she could get away with firing a Jelly Legs Jinx at him, but figures that it might equally alert Mike and the others to their presence — despite the fact that she knows it's wrong, she can't deny the part of her that wants to keep listening. It's dressed up in wanting to protect her brother and the kids, but she knows it's also because she's hurt. Nancy's at least that self aware by this point.

At least what they're talking about explains some things. If there's a curse on the members of whatever organisation they're talking about that stops them from talking about it openly, it makes sense why Robin, Steve and Eddie had looked so guilty before. Maybe they'd wanted to tell her, she wonders, but the very thought aches so much that Nancy cuts it off before it can go anywhere. They'd still lied, she reminds herself, because it's easier to focus on that simple betrayal.

The idea that it might have hurt them too only makes the roiling of Nancy's stomach worse.

There's a shuffling sound, like someone is pacing, maybe. "This is pointless if we don't get more people involved. How are we going to make up for Pericles not teaching us if no one is letting us?"

None of them seem to hear the creak of the classroom door opening, even though the rest of the castle is silent. They should count themselves lucky that it isn't another Prefect who finds them, really. It's bad enough Gideon is there, a smug smile pasted across his smarmy features as he leans against the doorway.

"What's this?" He crows, interrupting the clearly secret meeting that is happening. It's a stupid opening — he and Nancy have clearly overheard enough to realise what's going on, but no one ever accused Gideon of having class. Or decency, Nancy muses, as she looks over the room. She isn't surprised to see the whole gang of kids crowded together, Mike shoving the rest of them to the slight shadows behind him. What does hurt, though, like an elbow to the gut, is seeing Jonathan, Steve, Robin and Eddie standing with them, matching looks of guilt on their faces as they stare downcast at her, not even looking at Gideon.

She'd known, really. The confirmation still stings. Like salt in a wound.

"Nancy," Mike scowls, like she had planned this. Like he's the one who should feel hurt. "What the hell?"

Gideon sniffs imperiously, turning to face her with an expectant gaze, waving his wand threateningly. "You helping your brother with this, Wheeler? What, is this some kind of student rebellion?"

He stares her down, smug and victorious already, like he thinks he's got her backed into a corner. Nancy sets her shoulders in a firm line as she clutches her wand a little tighter in her robes pocket. Gideon isn't exactly a regular at Duelling Club, so it almost feels like a foregone conclusion when a Stunning Spell collides with his chest before he can even blink.

He hits the floor like a sack of potatoes. Nancy resists the urge to kick him. He'd deserve it, but it isn't him that she's angry with. It's an odd feeling.

"Nancy," she hears someone say, and she's surprised to look up and find that it's Max, who almost looks guilty. "You weren't supposed to know," she says, like that isn't obvious, but she's biting at her lip, regret painted across her expression. It's strange to see on someone like Max's features, and it almost doesn't fit her face right, Nancy thinks to herself, a little numbly.

Steve steps forward, but Mike grabs at his shoulders. "The curse," he reminds him firmly, and Nancy tilts her head as she looks at her brother incredulously.

"You don't have to tell me. I heard enough to understand. You're running some kind of student Defence club. Teaching kids what Pericles won't. Right?"

Because that's what it has to be. There's nothing else that would explain this conversation as well as what the others had been hiding. Nancy is a lot of things, but she isn't stupid. She can see what's in front of her. Maybe believing anything else had always been a mistake. Time and time again, Mike had shown that he doesn't trust her. Nancy is getting tired of trying to prove that he should. Of trying to believe that one day he will. All that time of longing to fix this, to help, to do something that would matter, and Mike and the others had found a way to do that after all.

Turns out there is something that they can do to defy the Ministry and the curriculum and everything else going on. Something to help people. And, apparently, even after all that she's done, Nancy hadn't been trusted to be a part of it.

Answering her questions clearly isn't breaking the terms of whatever curse they'd let Dustin cast on them as Steve nods miserably. "I'm sorry, Nancy."

"Steve!" Mike barks harshly, but he doesn't flinch, staring down at Nancy, a trembling breath caught in his chest until something seems to break and he has to look down at his feet. Nancy doesn't react.

There's a long silence. Steve doesn't offer any excuses or explanation, and Nancy thinks that she's glad for that. It would feel cheap from someone who, even after everything, is supposed to be one of her best friends. Instead, apparently accepting whatever judgement she has to bring, Steve stands before her, his head hanging low whilst he wrings his hands, a tortured look on his face.

Nancy doesn't say a word as she turns on her heel and leaves, unable to offer the absolution he is so clearly longing for. Betrayal, thick and bitter in her throat, stings, no matter what his intention. She isn't surprised, though, when Robin turns up outside the Slytherin dungeons the next afternoon, waiting for someone to let her in.

She had apparently known that it would be useless to ask them to fetch Nancy for her. That she wouldn't have come. Any other time and Nancy might have felt a twist of warmth in her chest at her determination, but now she just feels empty.

Nancy couldn't avoid her if she tried, so it isn't much effort to put up a Silencing Charm and gesture for Robin to sit on one of the sofas before the fire. She's glad that the Common Room is mostly empty. A Silencing Charm can't do everything to hide this, after all, and Nancy is breaking a cardinal house rule in letting someone not from Slytherin into the Common Room. Still, this doesn't feel like a hallway conversation. The tense quiet between them doesn't last long before a confession, overflowing with regret and remorse, spills out of Robin.

"I don’t know why they’re being like this," she blurts, looking at Nancy, a guilty slant to her expression. "He's being an idiot. You're the best at Defence in the castle, anyway. If they really want to make a difference, you should be part of it."

The platitudes, though it feels harsh to think of them as such, don't do much to help. Nancy gives her a sharp look. "Yes, you do know why."

"Alright," Robin acquiesces easily, snorting in empty amusement. "I do, but it’s a stupid reason, so I’m ignoring it."

"It’s not you I’m annoyed with," Nancy says, and means it, but it still doesn’t do anything to dispel the foul and bitter feeling curling in her chest. She’s angry and Robin is in front of her. It’s easy to feel like she’s angry with her too. Especially when Robin, who she always thought was on her side, hadn't told her.

Robin looks at her, expression pained. Nancy wishes she couldn’t see the pleading begging edge to it, wishes she couldn't feel her resolve crumbling in her chest in real time. "The parchment we all signed to join was cursed. Only founding members could tell any more students, no one could tell staff. I didn’t want to get cursed by telling you, even if I thought you should know. I didn’t even realise that you weren’t in it until I’d already signed. I would have, you know. Told you, I mean. If I could have."

"You didn’t create it?" Nancy raises an eyebrow, taking pity on the nervous rambling bursting out of Robin.

"Are you kidding? It was all Mike’s idea. Steve got roped into it. He thought you should teach it. What the hell does he know about Defence, you know? Even if he is good with kids. Steve just didn't want to leave the kids to it, after he knew. Figured that if he kicked a fit and said you should be in it that Mike would just keep going and would be in even more danger."

It's an accurate and fair assumption. Nancy remembers the shame and the guilt that had played across Steve's face. Thinks of how he'd always been good to her, even when she was trying to avoid him, even when she was being shitter than he deserved. The fury, at least at him, seems to flood out of her in an instant. Despite everything, she had never really been good at anger, especially not this cold, personal kind of betrayal. Nancy has always been softer, on the inside at least, than she should have been. Even now, she can’t really find it within herself to take this as a lesson, just lets some of the numb anger melt away as she looks at Robin, hesitation in the slant of her mouth, like she doesn't know what kind of ground she stands on with Nancy anymore.

"So, what, they thought Slytherins would snitch? Thought I would?"

"I don’t know," Robin sighs, eyes wide like she’s full of regret. The knowledge that Robin had wanted to tell her, had thought she should do, takes the wind out of her sails slightly, but the bitterness and anger still burn fiercely in her heart. She understands that she’s committed some horrific crime by daring to be Sorted into Slytherin, but, for once, Nancy refuses to bear the blame and punishment for it. Not when she’s stubbornly stuck by Mike’s side year after year after year.

Nancy nods, swallowing the bitter bile that rises in her throat. A cold feeling rushes over her at the realisation of the reality that she had always been aware of, in some distant sense, but is only now settling into her bones. "So, my brother just didn’t trust me?"

Robin softens, regret and sorrow twisting her features. "I’m sorry, Nancy. I don’t know why he’s being so pig-headed about it. Especially when he’s the one who told you now. I mean, you literally have run to his rescue every year. Saying that you wouldn’t help is just an excuse. He knows you would."

"When is Mike not pig-headed?" Nancy half-jokes, but it lands flat. Robin’s expression wavers, in sympathy or amusement, she isn’t sure, but she can’t quite stomach looking at it all the same.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I swear I wanted to. I’m literally only there to support Steve and make sure I can’t get my ass kicked too bad. Don’t need to be the best when I can always cower behind you."

That finally makes Nancy laugh, truly and honestly. Robin would face down demons to keep her friends safe. She’s not someone who cowers. "You sure I would let you?" Nancy challenges instead, hoping to see Robin squirm a little bit before she forgives her, but the other girl remains steadfast instead, raising an eyebrow as she looks at Nancy, something in her face softening.

"Yeah, Nance. I do. I’ve known since we were eleven and tiny. I know you."

Nancy snorts. Trust Robin to point the truth out in such a blunt way that it makes the whole thing sound ridiculous. "Alright, fine. I would let you cower behind me."

Robin’s expression brightens as she collapses back against the couch. "Thank Merlin, because you’re terrifying and I’m still worried my wand will just be a stick every time I wave it."

"You’ve been a wizard for years, Robin, come on."

"Hey, if you spent your whole childhood learning that magic isn’t real, you wouldn’t be sure about your wand either! I mean, I’m not saying that I think this is all a dream, but would I be surprised if I woke up in my childhood bedroom at eleven again, and this was all in my head? I know that you grew up with this, but this is the kind of stuff that believing in would get you locked in some kind of institution in my world, Nance. I don’t think you can blame me for doubting that I am some sort of magical wizard."

There’s self-deprecation beneath the humour, but Robin delivers it all with the sort of disarming smile that she’s so good at, and Nancy can’t quite find a way to make the words that would reassure her fit in her mouth. She wants to tell Robin that she is more special than she thinks, that she’s the best thing in Nancy’s life these days, but the words feel clumsy and odd, even in her head, no matter how sincere they are. Instead, Nancy lets Robin’s voice wash over her, familiar in its wandering and meandering ramble. That’s become comforting now, where at one time it might have been just awkward. She knows Robin thinks most people find her overwhelming, but Nancy finds that instead it's like her heart slows to its natural rhythm when Robin starts off, and she knows her place in the familiar flow and current of her tidal wave of words. She calls her 'Nance', like Steve does, like Eddie sometimes, but the syllable sounds different tumbling from her lips than from anyone else's.

"You’re an idiot," Nancy retorts, but she’s smiling and settling next to Robin on the sofa, who’s all splayed and sprawling limb, and the familiar warmth is spreading through her, so both of them know that she doesn’t mean it. It's a testament to Robin's genuine earnestness, which Nancy feels she'll never get used to, that she already feels like she's forgiven her. Even if Robin had a reason for it, she still lied to her, but Nancy finds it difficult to remember that when such honest warmth and sincerity seems to pour out of her.

Robin feigns a pout at her anyway, almost ruined by the smile she can’t suppress. It’s only a beat before she goes a little pensive, though. "You know, I was really lonely before I came to Hogwarts," she confesses easily, only a twitch at the corner of her mouth betraying any deeper emotion.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Robin nods and Nancy’s breath catches in her chest as she turns to her. She feels like she’s dangling over a precipice. Robin smiles, bashful and self-conscious and fragile enough to make Nancy’s heart break and mend in her chest almost simultaneously. "I’m not anymore."

"I think I know what you mean," Nancy offers, though they both know the differences. Nancy was lonely before, it’s a true confession, but between the two of them, it’s clear who is more isolated in the castle. Robin doesn’t press, sending her a warm smile instead. Her fingers brush Nancy’s own and her heart stops. Here is a girl who seems like she’s been crafted from Nancy’s dreams whole cloth, someone never less than herself, someone so perfectly imperfect that Nancy almost can’t quite believe it. Someone who, despite all the missteps they may have made between them, has never given her anything but time and care and kindness. She remembers a stolen moment on the top of the Astronomy Tower the year before, the memory etched into her very being like it had been carved into marble — timeless and eternal in Nancy’s mind. She thinks of shoulders pressed together, the half-impression of a smile on gently curved lips, the lazy and careless way that Robin had waved her hands as she tried to explain the difference between not belonging here and wanting to belong to the muggle world.

Nancy is hit with a sharp pang of grief at even the idea of a life here without Robin. It seems unfathomable, as though something about Robin had changed her life so fundamentally that without her it would be intrinsically different. It feels a ridiculous and fanciful kind of thought — almost romantic, if Nancy was the type — but all the more real for the soft way that Robin smiles at her now, like she can read her mind and finds herself endeared by the desperate way that Nancy wants to trace the swell of her bottom lip. Nancy thinks that there might be a hole in her soul in the perfect outline of Robin.

Her fingers tangle wholly with Nancy’s own, and she lets it happen, heart singing in her chest as Robin’s warm smile grows. "I’m not lonely when I’m with you," Nancy admits, surprising herself with her honesty. With anyone else, she might have felt a lick of fear inside her, or nerves at what might come next. Now, there's none of that.

It’s a statement someone else might smile at and dismiss, but Robin listens, nodding and considering, and Nancy’s heart has never felt so full. "I’m not either. It’s different than with the others."

It’s the closest to the truth that the two of them might have gotten in a long time. It doesn’t capture it all, doesn’t sum up the way that Nancy’s heart skips a beat when she sees her, the way that Robin is placed at the forefront of all of her memories. It doesn’t matter though, as her shoulder knocks with Robin’s own, their hands intertwined and bright blush dusting Nancy’s cheeks.

"I think I’d follow you anywhere," Robin declares, rosy flush still brushed across her cheeks.

She snorts. "With my track record, that seems like a great path to an early grave." The words don’t taste as sour coming off her tongue as they might have before. Maybe it’s because she believes Robin. Maybe it’s because she has for a while.

Robin laughs, shrugging, as though there’s not a concrete chance that Nancy is speaking the truth. "Stevie seems to be leading me to one anyway. You’re way more worth it."

The words strike her in the chest like a blow, and Nancy’s not quite sure why it seems to knock all the air out of her. When she catches her breath again, the chambers of her lungs almost sing Robin’s name. She knows there’s scarlet dusted across her cheekbones, can feel the heat radiating from her face, but Robin’s gaze is so fond that she’s almost not afraid of it as she might have been otherwise.

"Only slightly more worth dying for than Steve Harrington," Nancy manages, the twist of her lips into a teasing grin feeling genuine and false at the same time; Robin’s softness deserves reciprocation, but Nancy’s too scared to break this fragile perfection. Her stomach wrenches, like there’s a tether between her chest and Robin’s, and the other girl has just yanked on it. "I don’t know if I should feel flattered or insulted."

"Probably a mix of both," Robin grins and Nancy laughs, the sounds punching out of her chest like something she couldn’t cage even if she tried. Even if she wanted to. She doesn’t, anymore.

This is real wanting, Nancy realises distantly. Whatever she had been convincing herself this feeling might be, she had been wrong. The sheer force of it hits her like a kick to the chest. This is desperate and needy and sharp in its demand to be felt. This is what she was supposed to be feeling all those times before. It is nothing like the distant affection she felt for Steve nor the warm appreciation she held and still does have for Jonathan. This is keening and churning and burning. This is need, plain and simple, and it rages in her chest, a fire that she can’t tamp down. Nancy wants and wants and wants and she cannot have.

She knows that she cannot have. Robin is not hers to have.

She wants anyway.

————

Even after the conversation with Robin, Nancy thinks that she’s perfectly in her rights to avoid everyone for a little while. It doesn’t feel quite the same as when she had driven herself into hiding a year before. There’s less shame with it, even if humiliation and frustration burn fiercely in her chest, making her throat thick with emotion that she wishes she could swallow back. It’s a bracing kind of hurt to know that she isn’t trusted, even if it’s clear that the others feel bad about it. Steve pouts at her from across the Great Hall every time that they catch each other’s gaze, and Nancy finds a little of the ice in her chest melting, until she’s managing a smile and a fond head-shake if nothing more. Eddie smiles sheepishly at her, a melancholic guilt to him that Nancy doesn’t know what to do with. They do her the courtesy of not approaching though, clearly waiting for her to decide that she’s ready to even let them apologise.

Cassie doesn’t give her sympathy, per se — in fact, she’s sure that the other girl is even more merciless and ruthless in their chess games. Nancy doesn’t entirely get why that is more reassuring than anything else Cassie could do, but she knows that the other girl sees her gratitude simply based in the way that she doesn’t gloat quite as much. It’s a delicate balance, and Cassie somehow manages to find the exact centre that makes the tension in Nancy’s shoulders ease just slightly.

They don’t talk about it, because of course they don’t, but Cassie’s a steady rock, never changing or shifting in the ocean of roiling waves and chaos that seems to be Nancy’s life. She’s glad that the other girl is seemingly in tune enough to see the appreciation in Nancy’s eyes, because the words get thick and gummed up in her throat, almost like she can’t breathe past them. Instead, they settle in her gut, heavy as a rock.

The only times that she feels clear headed is when she’s in the sky, playing Quidditch. She practises almost daily, enough the other houses start rolling their eyes when they show up for their own training and she’s already there. She would feel bad about intruding on Declan and Grace, who almost runs the team as much as he does, but their joking reluctance never feels anything but fond. They run drills with just the three of them. With a Keeper, Chaser and Seeker, they run a pretty effective game between the three of them. It’s better when Nancy can persuade Davidson to join them. She gets less and less awkward in her positioning, and Declan gives Nancy an impressed look when eventually she seems to be shaping into a Beater worth her salt.

They're having a good season, and if they can beat Gryffindor next month, they'll be on track to win the Cup. It feels ridiculous to be worrying about something like the Quidditch Cup when there's the looming threat of Vecna and the Death Eaters and the increasing prejudice in Hogwarts itself, but Nancy can't help the fact that her heart is in it. She'd never been that into Quidditch before Hogwarts — her dad had taken her and Mike to matches, back when he used to give them the time of day, but it hadn't exactly captured her interest then — but she can't deny that the only time she feels herself is with her feet dangling above the pitch, weightless and free. It might have started as an escape in third year, but it's long since hooked her now.

"You alright, Wheeler?" Declan checks as they're laconically hovering above the centre of the pitch after one practise. Davidson hadn't joined this time, so Nancy doesn't feel bad about raising an eyebrow as she looks at him and Grace. Neither of them are stupid — she knows they've noticed what's happening.

"Nice to not be in the castle," she says, trying to limit her sigh. "If I have to spend one more evening with Gideon, I'm going to shove him off the Astronomy Tower."

Grace barks a harsh laugh that, despite her mutual distaste for Gideon, rings empty and humourless. "Fair enough. He'd deserve it."

"He's been boasting about how his family has ties to Death Eaters."

Declan hums, his features even and calm. "So does half our House, I guess. At least Gideon's obvious about his bigotry."

Nancy tries not to make her relief too obvious on her face. Whilst she'd had no doubt that Declan wasn't a blood purist, it's nice to hear it from the proverbial horse's mouth. Up here in the evening sky, the world painted pink and orange all around her, Nancy can't bite back the urge to actually talk about this with members of her own House who aren't Cassie.

"Is it weird that I keep expecting to come back to the common room after lunch, or whatever, and see it decked out in banners supporting Vecna?"

Grace snorts. "I mean, sometimes it feels like we're half on the way to that already, but I wish that they'd make themselves so easy to pick off."

After all, even with divisions worsening and prejudice gaining traction, the fanatics are still on the fringes and are easy to dismiss. The insidious ones are like Brenner, who know to stay hidden, to keep their claims mild and polite and easy to deny later. There's silence for a moment as all three of them seem to take a moment to think, Declan's expression turning introspective and almost troubled. It's not something she's used to seeing on someone so usually composed.

"My dad's lined up a Ministry internship for me after I graduate," he starts, slightly haltingly as he looks out over the expanse of Hogwarts' grounds rather than at either of them. "It's with Sullivan."

Nancy can't help her sharp intake of breath, Declan looking over at her with some tired amusement as she winces. Sullivan has been all over the papers lately — the Prophet and everything else as well — and he's the face of the darker turn that the Ministry is taking. He's a hardline blood purist, so clearly a mule for Vecna's followers.

Nancy doesn't call out the elephant in the room in terms of what this means for where Declan might fall. Beliefs only count for so much when it comes to lines being drawn in the sand. Cassie is proof enough of that, but Nancy still has a sour taste in her mouth as she shrugs. She imagines that Mike or any of his friends — or even Steve, Robin or Eddie — would take this as an opportunity to press, to insist that Declan can't work for Sullivan, that it's just plain wrong. Half of her wants to do just that, but the rest of her knows better.

The chips will fall where they fall. This is someone she knows, whose beliefs she knows. Declan will do what he thinks is best, and so will Nancy. She just has to be prepared for the worst, no matter how much she believes in him.

"Well," Grace snorts, turning her face up to the sky, "your dad has always been a prick."

Nancy laughs. Even if she's biting her tongue, she has to admit Grace has a point. She's heard enough stories after all.

Declan snorts, more than a little hollowly. "Yeah. You got a point there."

"Do you guys ever think about it?" Nancy says, surprised herself at the fact she's actually come out with the words. "About what happens if he actually comes back?"

"Do we think that he isn't back, at this point?" Grace asks, a white-knuckled grip on her broom handle. Declan shrugs.

"I think it's an inevitability, even if he isn't yet. No one knows what actually happened to him that night, with Ives. Maybe he's just been waiting, this whole time."

Nancy suppresses a shiver. It feels like that isn't far off the truth at this point, given Billy and Carroll trying to kidnap El last year. It's clear that there's some kind of groundwork being laid now, with the Ministry at least. The question is what their big plan is, what they're waiting to do before Vecna comes back properly.

"I think half the purebloods would end up in Europe," Grace says, shrugging. "The Light side."

"Really?" Declan shakes his head. "I think they'd stay. Fight. I don't know what I'd do."

"Graduation's soon," Nancy says, carefully mild. Declan's dropped gaze says a lot. Not everyone has people that make it easy to know which path is the right one to take. But everyone has to pick sometime.

Grace hums thoughtfully for a second before shrugging. "Look, there's no point wasting what's left of a good evening on this depressing shit."

Nancy wants to scoff, to shake her and ask what could be more important than trying to convince someone not to fall into the wrong side of things, but Declan has been almost inscrutable for most of the time she's known him and now the relief when Grace changes the subject is clear on his face. It's difficult to fight against that.

"Last one round both sets of goals is a frog's eye," Nancy challenges, already taking off, and Declan and Grace's scrambled curses follow her laughter as she streaks across the late evening sky. For a brief moment, it feels like she's shrugged off the weight of everything that pulls her down, that anchors her to what keeps hurting her. Between the three of them, they bear the scars and the marks of everything that the pureblood world is and wants to be, and, yet, for a moment, they are lighter than air, laughter stolen from their throats by the tearing wind and nothing more important than being the first round the goals.

————

Then Hopper disappears.