It was a grey, foggy day, giving the otherwise mundane landscape of naked trees and the occasional ramshackle house a bleak eeriness. He was not the only person on this path”not far behind him, a teenaged couple strolled hand-in-hand, and a middle-aged man in truly hideous purple leggings jogged steadily to the beat of his headphones. An elderly woman and a girl who couldn’t be older than two sat on a bench, feeding pigeons. But although there were others nearby, he was unquestionably alone.
Suddenly, a young woman in a pink dress appeared out of thin air with a slight pop. She seemed totally unfazed by this, not even pausing to look about her at her surroundings before walking briskly down the path. But although she was nonchalant about her sudden materialization, this in no way reflected the attitudes of those around her. Behind Jordan, the teenaged couple screamed and clutched one another, the man in the purple leggings swore loudly, the elderly woman nearly toppled off of her bench in shock, and the two-year-old girl giggled and clapped her hands together.
Not oblivious to this reaction, the young woman in the pink dress stopped in her tracks and slapped herself in the forehead. “Oh, right,” she muttered. “How could I have forgotten?” She rummaged in the denim purse slung across her shoulder and pulled out a wooden stick. She waved it and mumbled a few words to herself, and instantly, everyone seemed to warm considerably to this new arrival.
“Sorry, Walid. What were you talking about again?” Jordan heard the female half of the teenaged couple behind him say.
The male half of the couple replied casually, “I dunno, Jenny, it wasn’t important. It sure didn’t have anything to do with some lady randomly appearing out of nowhere!” He laughed heartily at the preposterousness of it all.
The man in the purple leggings winked and nodded at the young woman as he jogged past, and the elderly woman on the bench called, “Happy Christmas!” (Which was slightly odd, seeing as it seemed to be summer, despite the leafless trees and grey skies.)
The young woman in the pink dress grinned with satisfaction, her freckled nose wrinkling mischievously, and she stowed the stick back in her purse before continuing on her way.
Her dark hair shone in the muted sun as it bounced around her shoulders, and the stiletto heels of her fashionable shoes--open-toed to reveal sparkly pink toenails--clacked pleasantly on the pitted asphalt. She was rather attractive, bright-eyed and slim, and impossible to classify by age. She could have been anywhere from thirteen to thirty-three years old.
Jordan watched as she made her way over to a park bench and sat down, crossing her legs daintily There appeared to be a lumpy blanket beside her on the bench, and she prodded it surprisingly roughly with her elbow. By now, the jogger and the couple had passed by, and the old woman and her granddaughter’s attention had shifted back to the hungry pigeons. So Jordan was the only person besides the woman in the pink dress to observe what happened next.
The lumpy blanket groaned and shifted, and a second later, a scruffy head popped out from beneath it. Then, like a moth emerging from a cocoon, the man lying on the bench kicked off the blanket and rubbed his eyes blearily. “What brings you to this bench, ma’am, when there are several other perfectly good ones in the area that tend to be far less occupied by men trying to sleep?” he asked with a rather huge yawn. Although he was clearly homeless, he spoke clearly and articulately, and his voice was well-modulated despite its rather flat, cynical tone.
The young woman in the pink dress frowned impatiently. “Don’t give me that,” she replied, sounding as if she regularly conversed with this man. “You know fully well what I’m doing here. Now move over.” She shoved the man into a sitting position, showing no qualms about touching the filthy beggar with her clean, manicured hands.
The man raised his head, flicking shaggy tangles of long black hair out of his eyes. He wore an expression of great dignity, despite his lowly appearance and ragged clothing. “I have no interest in becoming the property of your charity du jour, ma’am. I understand you’re quite famous in the wizarding world, and I am aware of how involved actresses are in attempting to appear selfless, but I assure you, I need no help.”
The young woman in the pink dress looked about ready to punch him in the nose. “Of course the first thing that pops into your stupid, arrogant head is that I’ve come here to help you!” she snapped. “But guess what? I don’t really care if you live out on this bench, making a few coins of Muggle money every day from singing or doing ‘magic tricks”’” (Here, she made air quotes with her fingers) “”because that was all your choice. You could’ve done anything with your life. So, no, I didn’t come here to talk to you and try not to smell you because I wanted to help you. I need your help.”
The homeless man chuckled bitterly, the laughter not reaching his hollowed and hardened green eyes. “You are clearly confusing me with someone capable of action,” he said, gesturing at the tattered clothes that hung on his thin body, the sunken and prematurely aged features, the grubby and stubble-covered face.
“Oh, I would know you anywhere,” hissed the woman, moving her face inches away from his. “Look, Dad’s life is on the line, and Bellowes wants him thrown in Azkaban. We need to save Dad, and it’s the least you can do, considering what you owe us.”
The homeless man was silent. However, the woman still had plenty to say. “I know you’re too afraid to face anyone from the wizarding world after what you did in your sixth year,” she spat, “And I don’t blame you. Of course, Bellowes loves you now, especially since Ron died. And, yeah, everyone else pretty much hates you, especially for what happened to Emma Weasley, but you can redeem yourself. Helping the people whose lives you wrecked with your idiotic selfishness is probably a better way to spend your time than sitting here feeling sorry for yourself.”
The man stood up and walked around the bench to face her. “You must think I’m someone else,” he spoke, enunciating very precisely. “I’ve never spoken to you before in my life, ma’am. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d very much like to go back to sleep, so I’d prefer it if you left. Immediately.”
Now the woman got to her feet as well, drawing herself up to her full, rather diminutive, height. Her bright green eyes narrowed with anger. “YOU ARE MY BROTHER, YOU MORON!” she shouted. “DON’T YOU ‘MA’AM’ ME AND PRETEND YOU’VE NEVER SEEN ME BEFORE! YOU KNEW ME BEFORE WE WERE EVEN BORN!” She sighed with disgust. “Don’t you realize how much I need your help? I know you’re only acting like you don’t know me”I’m an actress, I can tell the difference between faking and the real thing, after all.”
The man shook his head, not even a flicker of emotion crossing his young but weather-beaten face. “You are raving,” he stated sharply.
There was absolutely no noise at all for almost a minute as the two of them stared into one another’s eyes. Finally, a slightly hysterical and completely humourless laugh escaped the woman’s lips. “Fine, stay here,” she said, her voice grave and low. “But don’t expect me to feel sorry for you”don’t think I’ll cry if you die out here. And call me overdramatic, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead.” She took a moment to regain her composure, then turned and strode away, her purse swinging from her arm.
As she passed Jordan, the boy got the first good look at her face close up. She looked so familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on where he had seen her before. And suddenly, he was filled with a sudden urge to know who the homeless man was, as well.
“Erm, excuse me?” he called, his throat inexplicably dry and cottony.
The young woman stopped in her tracks and turned around to look at him. She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Yes?”
“Uh…what was that all about?” Jordan asked. “Who was that man you were talking to?”
The young woman sighed. “Just someone I used to know,” she said sadly. “My baby brother, Jordan.”
“Jordan, wake up!”
Jordan sat up bolt upright in bed. It was only a dream, of course… naturally, he couldn’t have traveled ten or so years into the future. And yet, he felt unsettled, almost ill. He had read somewhere that almost everyone dreams every night, but he almost never remembered his own dreams. After looking in his father’s Pensieve when he was small, he had had nightmares for weeks, but since then, the only dreams he’d remembered were about small, insignificant things, like playing Quidditch or sitting in class. And this dream was so vivid, so real.
He crawled out from under his sheets, reminding himself forcibly of the older, homeless version of himself in the dream.
And just like in the dream, his twin sister Haley was standing over him dressed in pink and denim. “Rise and shine, baby bro!” she sang. “Today’s that day you’ve been looking forward to all summer and all sane people have been dreading! It’s O.W.L.s test results day!”
Because his contacts were not in, Jordan couldn’t exactly see his sister clearly, but there was something comforting about seeing her as a shrimpy hyperactive girl instead of the glamorous, mature version of herself in the dream. Haley’s shoulder-length black hair, tied with a pink ribbon and neatly flipping up at the ends, tickled Jordan’s nose as he sat up in bed. “That’s the spirit!” she chirped. “Ted and Emma are over, and we’re all waiting for you to start breakfast, matey!”
“I can’t help being nocturnal,” groaned Jordan, snatching up the clothes he had laid out the night before, being compulsively organized like that, and slouching into the bathroom. He didn’t know anyone but Haley could be so perky so early in the morning, but then, Haley was usually perky. She was a petite ball of energy who tended toward the theatrical and was therefore very clear in expressing her likes (singing, mischief, sugar) and dislikes (people who could raise one eyebrow, potions, and schoolwork, although she had been working harder lately.)
Conversely, Jordan preferred not to wear his heart on his sleeve and didn’t usually spew out whatever thoughts were on his mind. Although he did somewhat resembled his sister physically, he was her polar opposite personality-wise. While Haley was happy to be a member of a wild crowd, Jordan was a born leader who had little patience for silliness and frivolity. He enjoyed solitary pursuits like schoolwork and reading as well, although he had lightened up a bit in the past year and now devoted quite as much energy to sports, music, and computers as he did to work and responsibilities.
He finished washing up and popped in his contact lenses. He brushed his teeth, but didn’t even bother thinking about brushing his unruly mop of black hair”it was absolutely uncontrollable, and he’d learned to accept it.
“Had fun in there?” asked Haley, who was bouncing up and down on Jordan’s bed as he stepped out of the bathroom.
“Oh, loads,” replied her brother sarcastically, throwing his pajamas onto the bed and coincidentally managing to hit Haley in the face with his pants in the process.
Haley smirked. “Please, no details,” she said, jumping off the bed and skipping down the stairs ahead of Jordan.
When Jordan reached the kitchen, he could tell that the large table was already nearly full. His mother, his aunt Hermione, and Dora Lupin were conspicuously missing (they usually had a ladies’ breakfast tea at the Lupin residence on Saturday mornings), but most of the usual Saturday crowd was there. His father and Remus Lupin, were seated with full plates, and the younger set of Potter twins, the three-year-old Holly and Jonathan, were trying to convince their father to allow them to eat cookies for breakfast.
“But Uncle Ron lets us!” whined Holly.
“Then I’m going to have to speak to your Uncle Ron about his babysitting techniques,” responded Harry. “Where is he, anyway?”
Nobody answered him, because at that moment Jordan and Haley took a seat at the table, allowing everyone else to eat.
“Jordan has risen from the dead!” proclaimed Haley with an expression of mock-seriousness.
“Make that bed. Want some bread?” said Ted Lupin, causing inevitable giggles of ‘that rhymed!’ from Haley.
“Honestly, I think you’re less mature than Holly and Jonathan sometimes, Haley,” groaned Jordan, turning toward Ted. “No, thanks. I’m not very hungry.” The dream was still weighing heavily on his mind.
Ted shrugged and instead helped himself to the bread, after offering it around to the others seated at the table.
He was a very tall and skinny boy, really rather gawky looking, with shaggy light brown hair that fell haphazardly into his round blue eyes. Ted had a friendly, if rather tired-looking face and a pleasant, easygoing personality. Naturally, he was well-liked, and his casual, optimistic manner and sense of humour didn’t hurt. But there were two things that really made Ted unique. One was his talent for understanding feelings and emotions, and the other was the fact that he was a werewolf.
Ted was not the only teenager at the table who occasionally transformed into an animal, though. “Jordan, can you pass the fruit?” Ivy, Jordan’s adopted sister asked brightly. As she reached for the fruit bowl, her hand bumped against Ted’s and they smiled at one another in a slightly sickening sort of way.
Ivy happened to be both Ted’s best friend and girlfriend, as well as being an Animagus who could transform into an arctic fox at will. She was a rather shy girl, sweet, habitually nervous, and hardworking, and it was hard to believe that she was the biological daughter of Draco Malfoy. But she did resemble the Malfoys, with a porcelain-pale complexion, grey eyes, and sharp, angular features that were more distinctive than pretty. Her hair, white-blonde and long enough to sit on, was fixed in a tight braid, as usual.
“I think my dad probably went out to get some coffee, found a shop, and decided never to leave,” remarked Emma Weasley with her mouth full. True, her father, Ron, was quite the caffeine addict (a habit that had formed due to his stressful work as an Auror) but he could always get good coffee free at the Potters’. Emma tended to make disparaging comments about her father’s love for coffee, though, because she frankly couldn’t understand why some people needed caffeine.
She was like a wind-up toy that never quite stopped going, never quite released all of its potential energy. This was not to say that she was hyperactive like her best friend Haley”just rather high-strung. She tended to speak before giving any thought, and frequently had foot-in-mouth moments, and her dark brown eyes were always blazing for one reason or another. It wasn’t a good idea to get on her bad side, but she could be a very useful ally.
Emma was talented”bold, strong-willed, and quick-witted, she was the scourge of the dueling club. She played Chaser for the Gryffindor house Quidditch team, (of which Jordan was the captain) and had served as the Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament the previous year. To make her even more formidable, she was generally considered quite pretty, with long wavy reddish-brown hair, dark eyes, and dazzling teeth that were more often than not displayed in a wicked grin.
She wasn’t grinning at the moment, though. Rather, she was glancing uncomfortably at the window, where five owls were jostling and scraping, all vying to be the first inside. “It’s owls with O.W.L.s,” hissed Haley, stating the obvious like a pro.
Very rarely were there so many rising sixth-years under one roof, and there was a brief period of feathery chaos as owls hooted and flapped around the breakfast table, trying to locate whoever would be the recipient of their envelopes. Finally, everything settled down.
“Good owl,” Ted cooed in soothing tones, giving some of his breakfast to a rather large owl that was currently perched somewhat painfully on his head. “Let’s not dig the talons in so much, okay? Good boy!” He untied his envelope from the owl’s leg.
Ivy laughed. “I’m sorry, but it’s so funny!” she said, and helped him remove the bird from his scalp, her own having already departed.
“Zsa-Zsa must have bragged to everyone in the owlery about what a great perch my head is,” stated Ted, referring to his own beloved owl.
“Well, I bet it’s a nice view from up there,” remarked Haley. She poked Ted in the ribs with her spoon. “You tall person, you.”
Jordan said nothing. He was too busy slitting open his envelope, determined to be the first to see his scores. Although he hadn’t studied for the O.W.L.s as much as he would have liked, they hadn’t seemed too difficult to him, so he knew he couldn’t have done too poorly. But then, there was that one 93% he’d gotten on a Potions assignment the previous year… what if he’d missed an O by one point again?
He unfolded his parchment, skimmed over its contents, and let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“How did you do?” asked Lupin.
“You know how I did in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor,” replied Jordan with a slight smile”after all, Ted’s father had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts for two decades, with only a short one-year break when Harry had covered for him.
Jordan held up his grades for all the room to see. He had every right to be smiling; proudly running down the parchment was a steady procession of eleven little O’s.
Harry grinned and patted his son on the back. “Great job, Jordan. Whatever you do, don’t let your Aunt Hermione find out. Even she didn’t get straight O’s on her O.W.L.s! I doubt she’ll ever forgive you.”
Jordan beamed, something that didn’t happen too often. His smile lit up his whole face, and he momentarily forgot about his troubling dream. He always loved getting back tests, and these were the ultimate test results.
“How are we supposed to top that?” groaned Emma.
“You’re not,” replied Haley, sticking out her tongue.
She was right, though nobody really minded. Ivy and Emma got similarly solid scores, if not exemplary, Emma’s strengths lying in her practical examinations, and Ivy’s in her written tests. There was, however, one notable exception to this.
“Oh!” Ivy exclaimed, a sharp intake of breath that was little more than a whisper. “I…I got an O-plus on my Transfiguration practical. Wait, is that even a real mark?” She looked up at the rest of the table. “I didn’t mean to brag…” she added quickly, trying to hide a wide smile
“It’s not bragging to tell the truth,” Haley told her. “Just like how it’s not bragging to say that Dad’s Head Auror or that Emma was Triwizard Champion, or that Jordan’s a brainiac or that I’m incredibly stunning and charming.”
Ted put his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. “It’s no wonder you got an O-plus in Transfiguration. How many fifth years can show the examiners that they can turn into an animal at the drop of a hat? Even the Marauders couldn’t do it for their O.W.L.s, ‘cos they were unregistered. They probably invented the O-plus just for you. That’s awesome.”
Ivy blushed, and Jordan seriously considered starting a tally chart of how many times she blushed that year.
Ted’s scores were decent, better than he’d expected, but not great. He’d always managed to get good grades in school because he worked hard, but exams were more difficult for him, especially written ones. This was because he had slight dyslexia, which sometimes made it hard for him to read and spell. But he was happy with how he’d done”he knew he’d done his best, and besides, he was usually pretty laid-back about such matters.
Now, the envelope left unopened was Haley’s. “Saving the worst for last,” she said, with a nervous glance toward her father. She ripped open the envelope took out the parchment with flourish, and read it. Her face fell like a ruined soufflé.
“Are they really that bad?” Ivy asked softly, her brow wrinkling with concern.
Instantly, Haley’s crumpled expression transformed into a giant smile. “Nope!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Now I know I’ll do well as an actress!” She brandished her scores. “Dun-da-da-DUNNN!” she sang in fanfare.
Haley’s scores were good, far better than anyone could have guessed. Nine O.W.L.s in all, she had passed every class she’d taken, her lowest grades being A’s.
“Three O’s! Great job!” Harry exclaimed, and Haley bounced up from her chair and gave her father a big hug. “Divination, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and…Potions, of all things!”
Haley replied with a sound best described as a ‘squeee!’
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” stated Emma. “Haley’s a smart girl, don’t let her fool you. Three O’s, though… I knew you were doing better in school, but I didn’t think you’d get three O’s!”
“Two, really,” Jordan put in loudly. “Divination’s hardly a real subject. I personally think it’s just a lot of lucky guessing.”
“It is not!” Haley shot back, stamping her foot emphatically. “I know I’m not a Seer or anything, but people like me can at least learn to interpret stuff like tea leaves and dreams.” The word ‘dreams’ caused a slight shiver to run down her brother’s spine. He didn’t want to think what Haley would interpret his dream to mean. “You just don’t get it because you’re so boring and obsessed with logic. As if logic has anything to do with magic, anyway! All they have in common is the last three letters!”
This argument probably could have continued all day, but it was broken off abruptly by a sudden interruption. The door banged open, and Ron Weasley stepped inside, looking white and shaken. He was wearing his Auror robes and his red hair was uncombed. Haltingly, he walked toward the table and took a seat, but he didn’t accept any food or drink.
Right then, Jordan knew something was wrong. He had never seen his uncle sit at a table full of food without even taking a mug of coffee.
Ron, slumped in his chair, looked around at the assembled party and said in a low, guttural voice, “I’m in big trouble.”