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TWENTY-TWO MARGO VALEN

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       MARGO VALEN. Her name's a variation of another name, stealing the Margo from her maternal grandmother, a boring woman that couldn't tell the difference between Aestheticism and Romanticism. It is a name that has been thrown around frequently since September, ever since she showed up for the Quidditch try-outs, and blew them away, showing off the skills she had practiced tirelessly since she got her first broom, aged four. Sometimes, it's mentioned with the fact that her best friend is Atticus Malfoy, the so-called "Bad Boy" of Slytherin House. Other time it's whispered, about I heard she's in love with Malfoy (this is not true) and I heard Malfoy's in love with her (also not true.)

       Recently, it's been noted with another thing. She's the new Slytherin Quidditch captain, the old one got stressed over their N.E.W.Ts. The news broke to the rest of the school a few days ago, when the old captain called a meeting with the team and announced that Margo was taking over, that a fifth year was taking, a student barely sixteen years old was being handed the Slytherin Quidditch team, with the full intention of beating the other teams.

       And, of course, it travelled quickly, news always travels quickly in Hogwarts. The place is itching for any sort of gossip — from I heard so-and-so fancies so-and-so to I heard they plan to join the Death Eaters.

       Margo doesn't mind. She knows that people are talking about her more, now that she's become the captain. Let them talk. Let the next game in three weeks — the one against Gryffindor — gain an atmosphere of excitement, to see how the Slytherin team's working under a new captain. Let the Gryffindors be a little intrigued, a little concerned, they don't know what she's going to do, they don't know if she has any new tactics, if she doesn't. All they know is that Margo Valen — the school's so-called Queen Bitch — is running the team, and they have no clue what she's got up her sleeve.

       "You know, Regulus looked rather interested, didn't he, when poor Montague announced he was stepping down as captain," says Atticus, and he gives Margo a look. There's this one look, this terribly annoying look that she despises, the one she's titled Atticus is discussing Regulus Black. He looks smug, because he knows the little secret Margo's had for the past few months, ever since she walked back from Quidditch practice and somehow ended up walking back to the castle with Regulus, who had this pretty smile, and now, she can't get him out of her thoughts.

       "The meeting was supposed to be team members only," says Margo.

       Atticus shrugs. "Maybe I seduced Montague. Maybe I sat down and no one bothered to tell me to clear off. Maybe I hid behind the curtain," he says. Margo rolls her eyes at him, her hand holding onto her bag strap. It's one of the fancy ones, plain white dragon hide, that took two birthdays and Christmases combined to afford. "Speaking of seducing — Margo, dearest, when are you going to ask out Regulus?"

       "Keep your voice down, fucker," says Margo.

       Atticus grins at him. "You know, if you were to ask him out, I could call you that!"

       "I hate you," says Margo. "And the answer's never. He doesn't even like me, anyway, so what's the point in humiliating myself? And come on, At, I need to get our team to victory by the end of this year, I've got no time for a boyfriend."

       "But then," says Atticus, frowning a little. "What's the point in winning if you've got no one to celebrate with?"

       Margo shrugs. "I have you."

       "I can't make out with you, though. It would be gross," says Atticus, and Margo completely agrees. She loves her best friend with all of her heart, but every time rumours like that begin circulating around school, both of them feel weird about it. It would be bizarre, them being together. She doesn't love him like that. "But you know who you can make out with? Specifically, the next time he helps you try and pass Transfiguration?"

       Margo gives him a glare. "Let me guess — Regulus?"

       "Yeah?" 

       Margo's eyes widen. She freezes on the spot, and Atticus grins at her, as he looks over Margo's shoulder, and smiles. "We were just talking about the Quidditch team, weren't we?" says Atticus, glancing at Margo, who nods twice. Regulus walks up to them, and Margo feels her heart beating a million miles a second. "You're going to the meeting later, aren't you?"

       "Well, considering it's mandatory, yes," says Regulus.

       Margo smiles. He's adorable. Look at him. Look at him. Look at the way his hair falls over his forehead, look at the way he smiles like all of the stars in the sky are shining down on him. He's wonderful. He's so smart and lovely, too. She thinks about how patient and nice he is when they sit in the empty Transfiguration classroom and he helps her out with the different spells. He's so wonderful.

      "It'll only be five minutes," says Margo, casting a dark look towards Atticus, who steps further away, about to slip off and leave them together. She glances over her shoulder, to find Atticus talking to one of the boys in his dorm. "The proper practices will start next week, I'm planning, I just want to speak to the team before we get the ball rolling... I want us to win."

      "You know my brother?" says Regulus, and Margo nods. Almost everyone knows about Sirius Black. It would be difficult not to, what with the loudness and the frequent bursts into song in the hall, often ruining a Queen song. "The other day I heard him say how Gryffindor's got one more year to beat Slytherin. And you know what I say?"

       They've stopped walking now, and he steps a little closer to her. Margo thinks she's dreaming. It takes her a minute for her to snap out of it, for her to realise that she isn't dreaming, she's just staring at the boy she's fancied for the past year. No biggie. "Um, what?" she says.

       "We've got one last year to beat him," says Regulus, and he smiles at her. Margo smiles back at him, and she feels her heart beating even faster than before. They continue standing to the side of the corridor, Margo standing against the wall and looking up at Regulus. He looks down at her. She can feel the butterflies in her stomach. "So, next Hogs—?"

       "Valen!"

       Regulus grimaces. Margo's brows furrow, as she looks to the side, where James Potter's standing, next to Sirius Black. Regulus steps backwards, so he isn't leaning closer to Margo, and he looks away. His brother does the same.

       "So," says Potter. "We heard that you're the new captain, so, good luck on the game in three weeks." Margo nods, and holds back laughing and saying, I don't need your good luck, I'm going to win, I'm going to lead my team to victory. "Hi, Reg."

       "Mar, let's go," says Regulus. She feels her stomach drop. Mar. Mar? No one's ever called her Mar. Mar Mar Mar. The little name keeps on swirling around in her head. Where's At when you need him, to jump up and down because Regulus Black gave her a nickname!

       Regulus takes a hold of Margo's hand — to which she looks around in search of Atticus, to see if this is his doing — and moves her away from the two older boys. Margo's still in shock. Mar. What. The. Fuck. Mar. Mar. Mar.

       "Mar?" she says finally, because fuck it, she's getting some answers about this one. They walk towards the hall, and he lets go of her hand (she tries not to be genuinely upset by this, she would love to spend eternity holding his hand, what the fuck.)

       He shrugs. "We're friends, aren't we?"

       "Well, yes," says Margo. But still. Mar. She's writing this in her diary when she gets back to her dorm, fucking hell, there's going to be an entire two-page spread dedicated to HE CALLED ME MAR. "Just threw me off a little." A little. Her subconscious laughs. "Here I was, thinking I was just the annoying girl you helped out in Transfiguration, that you were sort-of friends with."

       "You're not annoying," says Regulus. They sit opposite each other at the Slytherin table. Margo sees Atticus sitting with a couple others on the team, and she gives him a look, as if to say, do not come over I swear to Merlin he just said I wasn't annoying AND he gave me a nickname I am in love with this boy. "I don't think so, anyway."

       "You're a charmer," says Margo, smiling. He scoffs, as if she's made a remark, but she honestly hasn't. She's being entirely truthful when she says that he's a charmer.

       Margo puts a pile of green vegetables onto her plate, and she glances over to the entrance into the hall, where James Potter and Sirius Black are walking in, towards their table. She looks back at Regulus. "If you don't mind me intruding — why don't you get on with your brother?" she asks. Regulus looks at her. Margo regrets everything. "It's fine if you don't want to, I was just wondering, but you don't have to, that's completely fine, uh—"

       "It's a long story," says Regulus, finally. "You wouldn't be interested."

       Margo frowns. "Yeah, I would."

       "It's not exactly nice," he says. "I don't think you'd—"

       "What? Have the stomach for it?" says Margo, raising an eyebrow. And then, she does something bold, something daring, something worthy of getting her a place on the Gryffindor table, because it's not only bold, but it's stupid, it's reckless, it's probably not going to work out well for her. She reaches forwards, and she puts her hand on top of his. "We're friends, you said that. And friends would sit through the most dreadful, the most boring tale ever told if it had some significance to one of their friends."

       Margo looks at him, properly, in the eye. She can feel the butterflies in her stomach, her heart pounding, all of her other surroundings blur out. She feels his hand move under hers, to hold onto hers, and she see fireworks sparkling in the air.

       "You can sneak out of your dorm room, right?"

       "Of course I can," says Margo. Sneaking around is her specialty. That, and those cakes you make with nothing but cereal and melted chocolate — the trick's to use some golden syrup, and then, a smaller type of cereal so that the singular cakes are one solid thing, instead of something flimsy and amateur.

      Regulus nods. "Slughorn doesn't check the common room after midnight," he says. Margo's brows furrow, about to ask how he knows that, but Regulus continues before she can. "Meet me in the common room, at midnight. It's always empty, I can tell you everything."

       "Really?" she says.

       "It might take a while," says Regulus, and he smiles at her, the sort of smile that causes a bright smile on her own face, the sort made of sunshine. "But it's Saturday tomorrow, so we can stay up late, right?"

       Margo can't help but smile.

      The next few hours went by slowly. Margo spent the short meeting with her new team smiling like she had pictures of puppies wallpapered onto the inside of her skull, to the point that afterwards, Atticus asked if she was feeling OK. She was. Well. She was feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she was feeling her heart beat faster, she was seeing stars and sparkles inside her head, all because of a certain boy in green uniform that called her Mar, that trusted her enough to tell her about his family situation, that smiled at her as if there was no evil in the world.

       Margo slips out of her bedroom, two minutes to midnight, quietly closing the door behind her. She walks slowly down the corridor, making sure the green glow from the windows looking into the lake didn't reach her, didn't make her presence known.

       As she steps into the common room, she sees Regulus sitting on one of the sofas. He looks up and sees her, and he smiles, and Margo smiles back. She hopes the face mask she slathered onto her face earlier has done some good.

       "So," says Margo, sitting down next to him. "Tell me everything."

       "It'll take a while," he says. "And like I said, it isn't the nicest story."

       "But it's a story about you," she says. "And that's all I want to hear."

       Regulus looks at her in surprise, and Margo smiles softly. And so he starts to explain to her: how his brother used to defend him, stop their mother from hurting him. How alone he was when his brother went to Hogwarts, how he had to look after himself for the first time, take the blows from their mother. How angry his mother was when his big brother came back the summer after his first year, talking about muggles and muggleborns and all of these different beings having just as much importance as a pureblood. How his brother was always different with him afterwards, once he left to go to Hogwarts. How odd it was, when his brother left last year, because he had already lost him, when he stepped on the train for his first year.

      At the end, Margo's resting her head against the back of the sofa, her eyes looking up still as he speaks. He's looking down at her as he finishes, a strange look on his face, one she can't quite describe. "I didn't realise you have freckles," he says.

       "They're faint, that's why," says Margo.

       "They're pretty," he says, quietly.

        Margo isn't quite sure what to do. She sits up, facing him, and she frowns at him. And, for the first time today, she does something daring, she does something reckless and stupid, something that not only hands her a seat on the Gryffindor table, but golden suits of armour will walk her to the table, all the while playing a song that's incredibly Gryffindor — maybe 'Rebel Rebel' by David Bowie (he's good for a muggle, sue her.)

        "Kiss me."

       Regulus looks at in disbelief, and he quietly says, "You like me, too?"

       "Have you met yourself?" says Margo.

       Regulus nods. "That's why I thought otherwise—"

       Margo cups his face in her hands, and she leans closer, kissing him, and — There's a knock on the door into the dining room. Holly jumps, and Atticus grimaces, the door opening slowly as Narcissa walks into the room. She gives a warm smile to Holly, who forces herself to smile back, when in reality, she wants to hear more about her mother.

       "Atticus," says Narcissa. "You're needed in the north wing."

       Atticus nods, and he looks at Holly apologetically. "Sorry, kiddo," he says. "I'll tell you the rest later, all right? But I promise — I swear on my life — that I will tell you everything you need to know."

       Everything you need to know? The phrase has a bad aftertaste. What does he think she needs to know? That her mother went out with Regulus Black? She wants to know the random things about her mother, the things she would've picked up over the years if she had actually been raised by her. She wants to know more than what's relevant, because with the way the world's turning upside down, how do they know what's relevant, and what isn't?

       Maybe she should know more about that mirror piece, where Regulus is. Maybe she should more about that strange crown-like headpiece, with an eagle and a blue sapphire. Maybe she should know everything, because how on earth do they know what's going to become relevant and important? Actually, no, scratch that, she should know what's going on.

       Why is she being left in the dark about the Order, along with her friends at Grimmauld Place, and Harry? Why is her step-dad saying everything you need to know, instead of, everything I know? Why is she being treated like she's completely defenceless, when she's not? She's far from defenceless. She bets half of the Order can't find the strength to perform Cruciatus, and she was there, easily casting the curse, aged eleven. Her reaction speed is stellar, she knows countless defensive spells, she knows the right ones for the right time. She isn't just some little girl with no knowledge, no experience of the nasty world — her headmaster was Karkaroff, and, she was there when Voldemort came back. She is not defenceless, she's a weapon to defend — and if the Order can't see that, then you know what? Fuck this shit.

       If they won't tell her what's going on, if they're using her dad to keep an eye on her, why should she obey the rules they laid out? They shouldn't judge someone on the actions of their parent, because Holliday Lippincott is not Margo Valen, not in the slightest. Instead, Holliday Lippincott with her own stories, her own skills — and the faintest of scars on her hand, saying I must not defy.

       Holly's going to see Harry.

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       THE NEXT DAY, HOLLY LEAVES her friends with a spring in her step, returning to Grimmauld Place for a couple hours before declaring she was seeing one of her friends and that she was going to take the train. Her dad mentioned the Floo Network, which he now knows about, and she nodded and made up some lie about one of her friends being muggleborn (evidently, none of them are) and therefore she could not use it.

       The current heatwave England's been cursed with means that the walk to the train station takes even longer, sweaty tourists standing in her way as she tries to get past. She's in a white t-shirt and denim shorts, the staple outfit she wore whilst on holiday earlier in the summer. As she reaches Kings' Cross she makes a bee-line to buy a train ticket, and off she goes, her Walkman in her bag and a little smile on her face.

       She walks through a little park, one with a playground and a tiny stall selling ice cream, and she begins to realise that she probably should've figured out how to actually get to Privet Drive, before she set off from Grimmauld Place at lunchtime. Admittedly she was a little too caught-up in the fact that she was going against what she had been told she had to do all summer, and she sort-of got a little excited by the idea of it all, and now, she's walking through some random park in some random little town in some random part of the country. And, her Walkman ran out of battery, so there's that, too.

       Everything's going wrong—

       "Holly?"

       "Harry!"

       Holly smiles at Harry, who's still looking at her in shock. For a minute she's wonders if he's actually frozen in time, or something, like how the basilisk apparently petrified people, and they were frozen stiff for days. She wonders if she should prod him, see if he's still alive, or if he's actually dead — you can't die like this, surely? No, of course not... If he was dead he would've fallen over.

       "What—What are you doing here?" says Harry, eventually.

       "I wanted to see you," says Holly, and she glances around, seeing a woman walking her dog across the street, and frown at the two standing on the edge of the park, looking awkward. Holly turns to Harry. "Do you know anywhere we can sit, or something? We look stupid, standing here... I've also gotten myself lost, so you'll have to walk me back to the train station later."

       "That's—That's fine," says Harry, and he starts to walk back into the park. Holly follows him, because she's realised, since losing Susannah, she used to rely on the ghost far too much when it came to finding herself around places. She wonders if she even knows her way around school on her own. "How long can you stay?"

       "Well, I think the last train to Kings' Cross leaves at eleven, but by that point there'd be a search party out, so," she says. They reach a playground, with a low fence guarding the swings and the slide, and Harry climbs over it. Holly, frowning, does the same. "There's one leaving around six, I was planning to go on that one..." Harry sits down on one of the swings, and Holly sits on the one next to him, frowning still. "Um, about your letters — I wanted to reply, but I wasn't allowed."

       Harry looks confused, maybe the slightest bit annoyed. Which makes complete sense. Holly's confused, too. She doesn't really understand why she was told that she had to move into Grimmauld Place (well, she does now, but at the time she didn't because their excuse was stupid), and the whole thing about keeping everything from Harry makes no sense, either. None of it does. And how can she tell him something, anyway? She doesn't know anything to tell.

       "Don't get angry, or anything — actually, no, you've got the complete right to feel angry about all of this, because it's so stupid! Merlin, all of this is terrible, I think it's stupid why they've left you here when You-Know-Who's back, because what if he were to come here? How can you defend yourself? With that broken swing?" says Holly, gesturing towards a swing seat and chain sitting pathetically on the asphalt. "Dumbledore said that I wasn't allowed to tell you anything — he's said the same to Ron and Hermione, too, if that explains any weird letters from them. Sorry I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say."

       "You've seen Ron and Hermione?" he asks.

       "I'm staying in the same house as them—"

       "You're at the Burrow?"

       "At the what?"

       "The house the Weasleys live in!" says Harry.

       Holly frowns. "No, somewhere else."

       "Where, though?" he asks impatiently.

        It takes her a minute for her to remember the name Sirius had told them to call him, whenever talking about him in public. She can see the desperation growing on Harry's face, and she feels guilty. She should've visited him sooner. "Snuffles' old house," she says. "The one he grew up in — the Weasleys and Hermione are staying there, too, apparently it's safer, I don't know, but Mrs Weasley's a better cook than my dad."

       "But if you've been staying there with Ron and Hermione," says Harry, his brows furrowed, looking like he's trying not to get annoyed. She thinks so, at least. She remembers the faces of Durmstrang students, and the ways they tried to hide their anger when the teachers tried to provoke them, to hand them a detention. Holly tilts her head, waiting for him to continue. "Why aren't they here, too?"

       Holly looks at him for a minute, and she feels her stomach tie into knots. She can see how much this is affecting him, how having his friends pretty much ignore him for the whole summer — right after he saw Voldemort come back from the grave — has affected him. Hurt him, even. The look on his face makes her feel upset and hurt.

       "They don't want to go against what Dumbledore told us," says Holly, and she lets out a sigh. Harry still has that look on his face, the one that's making Holly want to cry herself. She frowns at him, and she stands up. "But, um, I missed you, and — oh, you know what? You're coming with me."

       "I — what?"

       "Yeah!" she says. "Why not? I know nothing, and I've been in that damned house for weeks now, so what's the point in them making you stay here, all on your own, when you can go and stay with the rest of us? You still won't know anything, but you'll be with us." She starts to walk up and down, and she crosses her arms. "I have no spare change on me, but I can go back and get the twins, they can Apparate now, so they can come and get you—"

       "Honestly?" says Harry, standing up. Holly stops pacing, and she stands next to him. She nods. "You're not joking, are you?"

       "Why would I joke about this?" says Holly. "Come on, show me back to the train station — I know there's an earlier train back, I'll take that, we can sort everything out, you can come back." She grins at him. "It's going to be so much fun! Finally, I can actually speak to you about the whole thing in the graveyard—" She catches herself, and she suddenly feels strange for bringing that whole nightmare up. "Not just that. I missed you."

       "I missed you," says Harry.

       And then there's silence. Holly isn't quite sure how to respond to that, because she missed him too, she's already said that, and she's not exactly going to go off on a tangent about how bad she's felt for the past few weeks. How she keeps on thinking about him and how terrible he must been feeling, here all on his own. And how awful this is, too, how he went through such a nightmare at the end of last year, how he had been so brave and strong when he was duelling Voldemort, and this how they repay them, forcing him to stay with his relatives that don't even like him, don't even acknowledge how wonderful and smart he is, don't even treat him as the boy who won the tournament, the boy who duelled Voldemort and lived to tell the tale.

       "Come on," says Holly, finally. "Walk me to the train station, will you?"

       "So you'll be back here later, for definite?" says Harry.

       Holly nods. "I promise."

       "We can go this way," says Harry, gesturing to a street that looks vaguely familiar to Holly, because she probably walked down it earlier on.

       But, like she's noted, she seems to be useless with finding her way around places when she doesn't have a ghost guiding her way. She misses Susannah — she misses being able to glance at someone who was always there, who always knew what was going on, who helped her listen in to conversations and know what was going on. Now she's on her own, and she isn't sure how well she's going to react, considering she can't even find a house in a small town on her own, without getting lost.

       "My cousin and his friends are on the next street, I think," says Harry. Holly nods, and frowns at him, inviting him to continue explaining, if he has anything to add. From the sounds of what he's said before, this probably isn't a good thing. "They like to beat up younger children."

       "What charmers," Holly remarks.

       Harry continues walking, down another street that Holly thinks she remembers, because she recognises the yellow car on the other side of the road. Yes, because earlier, she remembered she saw the car and squinted at the way the sunshine made the yellow even brighter, almost fluorescent. Her eyes did not appreciate it.

       "There's a short-cut this way," says Harry. "So why are you at Snuffles'—?"

       "Is this your girlfriend, then?" she hears someone say from behind them.

       Holly stops walking, a frown on her face. She sees Harry stop walking, too, and look a little more annoyed than confused, when he begins, "That's my cousin, um—"

       "Oh," says Holly, and she turns around. From what she remembers from ages ago, Harry's cousin's called Dudley. She believes. She hopes she's remembered that right. She still doesn't know Crabbe and Goyle's names, and she thinks she's friends with them (she thinks?)

       "So," says Harry's cousin, as he walks closer. Holly sees Harry already look a little irritated, and she frowns at him. His cousin steps up to them. "Is this your girlfriend, then?"

       Before Harry can respond, Holly moves closer to Dudley (she thinks that's his name?) in a measly attempt to intimidate someone far bigger than her, and she smiles. "Why, jealous?" she asks, and she suppresses the weird feeling she has in her stomach when he asks the question.

       Harry's cousin looks at her oddly. Holly wants to believe this is because she is a very short girl remembering every way her cousin picks on the younger years, and trying to apply it to this situation. "You go to the same freak school, don't you?" he asks.

       "I do," says Holly. "I used to go to another one, where they taught us how to torture people and commit murder from the age of eleven."

       And then she smiles at him.

       "But you left?"

       "I got too good at it," says Holly. She flashes another grin, seeing the fear wash over his face, and she turns around, to find Harry smiling. She ignores the odd feeling in her stomach. It feels as if something's fluttering inside of it, it's strange. "Harry, where's the train station?"

       "Oh, yeah, this way," says Harry, and he gestures towards the little short-cut, a small path between two hedges from two gardens, flowers growing between the leaves. Holly nods, and she walks a little ahead of them, beginning to remember the way back. "How long have you been 'Big D' then?"

       Holly bites onto her lip to suppress a laugh. She thinks she's spent too much time with the twins over the past few weeks, to find that nickname funny.

       "Shut it," says his cousin.

       "Cool name," says Harry. She glances over her shoulder, and she sees him grinning. "But you'll always be Ickle Diddykins to me."

       "I said, shut it!"

       "Don't the boys know that's what your mum calls you?"

       "Shut your face."

       "You didn't tell her to shut her face. What about 'popkin' and 'Dinky Diddydums,' can I use them then?" asks Harry, and she knows exactly what he's doing. Part of her wishes his arguments with Draco were like more like this, she knows this stuff would get under his skin more than a jinx. "So you've been beating up tonight? Another ten-year-old? I know you did Mark Evans two nights ago—"

       Dudley (she thinks) says, "He was asking for it."

       "Oh, yeah?"

       "He cheeked me."

       A ten-year-old? Holly frowns. What?

       "Think you're a big man carrying that thing, don't you?" she hears Dudley ask, as they start to walk through the little path between the houses. Holly looks ahead, and she thinks she can see the train station in the distance, spotting the sign lit up outside the building.

       "What thing?"

       "That—that thing you're hiding." 

       Holly checks the watch on her wrist. Twelve minutes until the next train to Kings' Cross gets here. She wants to pick up her pace, but she wonders if she leaves the two boys they'll try and fight each other.

       "Not as stupid as you look, are you, Dud? But I suppose if you were, you wouldn't be able to walk and talk at the same time..."

       "You're not allowed... I know you're not. You'd get expelled from that freak school you go to."

       "How d'you know they haven't changed the rules, Big D?"

       "They haven't... You haven't got the guts to take me on without that thing, have you?"

       Holly almost sighs. Saying anything with you haven't got the guts is almost definitely going to get a reaction out a Gryffindor.

       "Whereas you just need four mates behind you before you can beat up a ten-year-old. You know that boxing title you keep banging on about? How old was your opponent? Seven? Eight?"

       "He was sixteen for your information, and he was out cold for twenty minutes after I'd finished with him and he was twice as heavy as you. You just wait till I tell Dad you had that thing out—"

       "Running to Daddy now, are you? Is his ickle boxing champ frightened of nasty Harry's wand?"

       "Not this brave at night, are you?" says Dudley, as if he's trying his best to sneer at Harry. Holly, having spent the past year being friends with Draco, is not exactly impressed.

       "This is night, Diddykins. That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this—"

       "I mean when you're in bed!"

       Holly stops walking, and turns around, looking incredulous. By the looks of it, Harry's done the same, because really, what kind of comeback is that?

       "What d'you mean, I'm not brave in bed?" says Harry. "What — am I supposed to be frightened of pillows or something?"

       "I heard you last night," says Dudley, a weird triumphant look smeared across his face. Holly feels very incredibly confused. "Talking in your sleep. Moaning."

       "What d'you mean?"

       Dudley laughs, and he puts on this awful high-pitched whimper, "'Where's Holly?'" Holly thinks her heart stops for a minute. She looks at Harry in surprise. "'Don't kill Cedric! Don't kill Cedric!'"

       "I—I need to get the train," says Holly, with a lot less confidence than she had before. As soon as she sees Harry nod, she walks the rest by herself, feeling guilty. She didn't want to leave Harry there, with his cousin, but if she doesn't get this train, she doesn't get to the twins early, she doesn't get to ask them to Apparate back here. She needs to get onto the train, even if her stomach's twisting into knots and she wishes she could stay a couple more minutes, just until his cousin stops making fun of him for, what sounds like it, having a nightmare about the tournament.

       It's a miracle Holly hasn't had any, she thinks, as she gets on the train. Most of her dreams are still about Durmstrang, that tend to turn very sinister very quickly, or very strange, inheriting traits from the book she was reading last. One time a painting came to life and tried to strangle her Dark Arts professor. Admittedly, she was a little upset when she woke up and realised it wasn't true.

       She gets back to Grimmauld Place after what feels like eternity, having sat next to a window on the train with nothing to read, nothing to listen to, and having to get back through London, where the sky had turned a grisly grey since she left at lunchtime.

       As soon as she enters, about five people appear out of nowhere, looking at her like she just killed someone. Gus rushes forwards, a look of panic on his face, as he lets out, "What were you doing, Holliday?"

       Holliday. That's serious...

       ... They know she saw Harry.

       "Doing what?" says Holly, frowning at him. She's not going to tell them, in case they don't know, and this about something completely different — she spoke to Atticus, it could be that.

       His hands are holding tightly onto her arms, as if he's concerned and relieved that she's there, but he's angry. She knows he's angry, she can see it on his face. Her dad doesn't get angry that often, she thinks the last time she saw him like this was when she told him about Durmstrang, and he was furious because of how long it took her to tell him.

       "Do you know what happened to Harry?"

       "Something happened to Harry?"

       "Dementors tried to attack him," says Moody, from behind her dad. Some man called Remus Lupin — apparently one of the old Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers — is standing next to him, frowning at her. "He's fine, and his cousin will be, after a while..."

       Holly says, "I—I didn't know that."

       She hears another voice — she has no idea who, she's still overwhelmed by the amount of beady eyes staring at her — ask, "Did you know anything about this, beforehand?"

       "Why would I know?"

       "Dumbledore told you, you were not allowed to see Harry — Ron and Hermione listened to this, but why did you go and visit him, coincidentally the same day he's almost attacked by Dark creatures?"

       "Why would I know that was going to happen?"

       Holly looks at her dad, hoping he'd step in, defend her, tell them to stop asking questions. She would've thought by the panic on her face, the way she froze and felt sick the instant her dad said something happened to Harry meant that she didn't know about any of this. But they still see her as her mother. They still see her as the woman that somehow killed Regulus Black, the girl from their school days that was manipulative, the Death Eater that had murdered those against Voldemort.

       She forces herself out of her dad's grasp, and she bolts up the stairs, before she can hear anything else. She gets upstairs and she lies down on her bed, feeling dizzy, feeling sick, feeling like the entire world's about to crash in on her.

       Holly squeezes her eyes shut. They all think she's evil. They all think she's wicked, that she's this cunning villain that helped orchestrate an attack on Harry. But she knows she's the complete opposite — she went there because she felt guilty, because this stupid Order forced her not to reply to his letters, and because the Order only wants her here to make sure she doesn't turn around and kill them all.

       And look at her now. They think she's even worse, like she could have the potential to do something like. She knows she doesn't. The screams of children in Durmstrang uniform are too much for her to do anything evil, she still sees their faces in her dreams, she still sees them writhing in pain on the floor. And those idiots downstairs think she can hurt someone?

       She hears someone knock on the door leading up to the attic, and she ignores it. She doesn't want to see anyone. She wants to sit here, on her own, staring into space, ignoring the chaos from downstairs. She wants to ignore everything, just for now, just until she stops feeling as if someone she truly cares about almost got hurt, all because of her.

       Holly wipes a tear from her cheek, and she rests her head against the pillow, silently reminding herself I am not Margo Valen, I am not Margo Valen, I am not Margo Valen...

       "Holly?" says Hermione, a little hesitantly. Holly sits up, and she sees Ron nervously standing behind Hermione, looking at Holly like she's a wild animal in a zoo. Not so much a lion, but more a cheetah, something that's still deadly, just a little more unpredictable. "Are you—Are you OK?"

       "No," says Holly. "I didn't know about the dementors until I got here, though — I promise, I swear on my life, that I knew nothing about that, if it was You-Know-Who doing that, I didn't know, I wouldn't have done anything if I thought it was going to hurt H—"

       "We know that," says Hermione. She looks behind her at Ron, who seems to be afraid to even stand too far into the room, and she moves closer to Holly, hesitantly sitting down on the bed. "We weren't saying that. We were just wondering how he was."

       "I think he's upset that he doesn't know anything. I also accidentally let it slip that we're all here — I didn't say where, don't look at me like that — and he looked hurt about that, which makes sense," says Holly, and she sees the two exchange a look. "And there was this point where his cousin appeared—"

       "Oh, Merlin, you met him?" says Ron.

       Holly grimaces. "I wish I hadn't," she says. "He's such a brute — did you know he goes around, beating up little children?"

       "You know," says Ron. "Last summer, Fred and George—"

       Hermione looks confused. "Are you forgetting someone?"

       "What are your thoughts on Harry's cousin?" says Holly, and Ron snorts. Hermione gives Holly a look, and Holly smiles weakly. "I'm kidding... But yeah, Harry was — I don't know, antagonising his cousin, I guess? And I don't know, but through that, I got the hint that's he secretly angry about all of this. Which again, makes complete sense, I don't know about you two but it's frustrating that they're having these meetings downstairs and we still know nothing."

       "So you think he's angry?" says Hermione.

       Holly nods. "But you can't blame him."

       "Why—" Hermione stops herself for a minute, and Holly looks at her in confusion. "Why did you go, anyway?"

       She pauses, unsure how to explain. If she says the whole story, she has to explain what's going on with Atticus, and then she's got to explain how that and the whole right or easy dilemma spiralled and made Holly decide to visit Harry, because why should she listen to the Order when they don't even trust her? Which is funny, now that she thinks about it, this whole thing means they trust her even less...

       "I felt guilty," she says, finally. I felt guilty. Not the fact that she was also dealing with her own problems and thought it would help, seeing him. Not the fact that she kept on replaying that second before she left the train at the end of last term, when she, for some reason, thought the best thing to do was to kiss his cheek. Not the fact that she keeps on thinking about him, and not just how bad he must be feeling, but just him.

       Holly looks at Hermione and Ron, her brows furrowing. "Could you let me have some time alone, please? They probably want you downstairs, anyway, so you know whatever's going to happen to Harry."

       "Are you sure, Hol—?"

       "I'm fine," says Holly, and she stands up, gesturing towards the door, enticing them to use it. She watches Hermione frown at her, not entirely convinced that she is, but Holly tries her best to hide this. Holly knows that she told a lie, that she isn't fine. Her blood's boiling and her heart's racing; she wanted to help him, and look at her.

       She just made everything worse.

—✧—✧—✧—✧—

so holly doesn't know the whole story juuuuuuust yet but, more will be revealed throughout this part. like everything with margo leading up to her leaving school will be revealed and shown before the end of ootp. but, for now, i hope that little snippet is enough for you to think, oh, she's a little like holly, and also, oh, she doesn't seem that bad (because that may or may not be what holly's thinking oh no)