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TWO LEGALLY BLONDE

—✧—✧—✧—✧—

       THE SUN'S UP and so is Holly, having woken up earlier than usual to ensure that she was completely and absolutely ready for her first trial as the British Youth representative. She and Mr Weasley left for the Ministry before the others had woken up — with the exception of Mrs Weasley, who insisted that Holly ate a hearty breakfast before she left — and by the time Holly's pretty silver watch read 8:58 AM, she stands in the lift, a pleasant smile playing across her lips.

       Holly waits for the doors to open into the courtroom. She lifts up the letter she received a couple of days ago, explaining where to go once she arrives. Apparently, she goes to a room off the side, but she isn't told anything other than that. She supposes it for secrecy — of course they don't want to say all of the important details, what if someone tried to break into the trial? She doesn't know why they would, but you never know nowadays.

       The doors slide open, revealing the courtroom. Holly, feeling as if she's in a new type of Triwizard Tournament, steps out into the hallway, and makes her way to the room she's been told to go.

       This is wonderful. She can see that the court's almost full, which must mean that whatever trial she's about to witness today, it's going to be important. She wonders what it could be. Maybe it'll be so revolutionary, so world-changing, that she'll remember this day long in the future. She can see it now: aged seventy-two, her hair colour barely changing since it's already almost-white, sitting peacefully somewhere sunny and warm like Hawaii. And then she'll turn to either her dog or her husband — or maybe if her husband's passed away she'll be living in a cute little villa with her best friend Pansy, because obviously they'll still be best friends, and Holly will turn to her and say, "Hey, this is the day I saw that trial!"

       She cannot wait to see her dad again, to tell him all about the exciting trials she's been able to hear and be a part of because of this amazing opportunity—

       "Holliday Lippincott," says a wizard, once Holly steps into the small room off to the side. Holly stops in her tracks, quickly snapping out of her daydream. "You're the British Youth representative, aren't you?"

       "I am!" says Holly, smiling. "Oh, you can call me Holly—"

       "The first thing you're going to do is hand these out to all of the members standing out there," says the wizard. Holly nods, smiling still as she's handed a stack of plum folders with the information inside. The name of the trial is a series of letters and numbers, ones that must have some meaning, and then today's date. The 13th July, 1996.

       She expects this. Obviously she's not going to be given the most important job in the entire Wizengamot, that is what she's going to work up towards in the upcoming years. By thirty-one she'll be the head, but for now, she's obviously going to go through menial tasks. Her dad said, when she told him about this, that it might be a little like the sort of internships muggles do whilst at college ('university' in the UK, but you know her dad). At least she isn't getting people coffee... Do wizards even drink coffee?

       "Then you come back here," the wizard says. Holly wishes he was wearing a name-tag, it would be nice if she at least knew the name of whoever she was speaking to. "Do not talk to anyone, they don't want to be burdened."

       Burdened?

       Holly nods anyway, and she goes into the courtroom, handing out the folders. She goes through the first row of witches and wizards, who all keep their heads down, absorbed in other things, and she frowns. She didn't realise these many people could hate their jobs so much... Maybe they're upset because this is a Saturday, but surely if the trial's on a Saturday, it's got to be important, because they couldn't waste any time leaving it until the following week?

       So Holly ignores what the nameless wizard said, and as she hands out the folders, she smiles at the members of the Wizengamot. "Good morning!" she says to everyone she hands the folders to, adding other little things whenever she sees fit. Things such as, "I love your hair!" or "Your glasses are nice!" No one smiles back at her but it's fine, it's fine, they're just not used to actual positivity. They may think they don't want to be greeted, but they really do. What they want is a bright, excited witch called Holly Lippincott to bring some life back to the Wizengamot.

       "And you didn't speak to anyone?" asks the wizard when she returns to the small room, and she quickly smiles at him, denying such a thing. "Good." He doesn't look like he's pleased. Maybe Holly should bring coffee to the new trial, or perhaps some sort of baked goods, she's always thought that the best impressions are made through surprise cookies, if baked well. And Holly can bake — fairy cakes, rock cakes, cookies, you name it, she can bake it and it'll be delicious. She can't cook actual food, but it's fine. That's what savoury cakes and takeaways are for.

       "Now, you stay in here whilst we wait for the court to begin. The person on trial will also be present — the one today will be disarmed and restrained," says the wizard. And, a little quieter, he adds, "Sometimes they say things to the kid, thinks they can get away with it."

       "Oh," says Holly, feeling a little less excited.

       The wizard gives her one last nod, still no smile or sign of assurance, and leaves the room. A couple minutes pass and another door opens, two wizards on either side of another man with his hands behind his back, and chains around his ankles. He moves with a loud clatter, and Holly looks at him, as he's sat down.

       Her heart stops.

       "Wait here," says one of the wizard to him.

       The two walk out of the room, like the other wizard. Holly stares at him, her vocal chords having been pulled back. She can't speak. She isn't sure if her heart's still beating, or if time's still progressing like it normally does. All she knows is that she's looking at the same man that's her greatest fear, the same man that forced her to learn the Unforgiveable Curses the same week her new friends were, in another school, learning how to levitate feathers.

      "Kill him, kill him!" says Susannah.

       Holly ignores Susannah... She doesn't have the stomach for it, anyway.

       "Lippincott," says Karkaroff. The last time she was alone with her old headmaster was when she was forced to use a bloodquill, because she refused to cast Crucio on a first year. She wants to be sick. "I suppose you are pleased about this — I hear you have gotten worse... I saw in the Prophet, how you were involved in the Department of Mysteries. I wonder what the Dark Lord's going to think about that, when he learns that his favourite servant did not give him another loyal follower, but rather, an idiot girl with no loyalties—"

       And then Holly doesn't feel sick anymore. Instead, she can feel her blood boiling. This is the man who ruined her expectation of magic when she was eleven years old, something that took a long time for her to reverse. This is the man that ensured she could use Dark Magic without lifting a finger. This is the man who has ruined himself, now that he's gone on the run from Voldemort. And yet, he still sits here and tries to have authority over her.

       "I wonder what he's going to do when they know where you are," says Holly, speaking with a sneer. She despises this man. She doesn't think she's ever hated someone this much. Not even Umbridge can compare to this monster. "I'm glad you're here, actually — because the second you're taken into that courtroom, I'm going to tell them every single thing that happened at Durmstrang."

       "Maybe that is the reason why I am here."

       "No, the reason why you're here is because you went missing immediately after the tournament and I'm guessing that people think you went to help Voldemort—"

       "You speak his name?"

       Holly nods. She still has a smirk on her face.

       "You smile, Lippincott, but you forget," says Karkaroff, his dark eyes glaring into hers. She tries to look like she isn't angered, like part of her isn't a little bit scared. She thinks she's always going to be a little bit scared of him. "You think that the British Youth representative is a good position to have? It is not. It has not been for decades. Did you think they would actually give you any sort of power, any position? You think too highly of yourself, Lippincott, you always have. Always thinking you are better than the rest of us. You are not. You stand there, and you think that you are better than me because you are not a Death Eater, but what exactly are you? Someone who's greatest glory will be a tournament she joint-won at fourteen."

       Holly doesn't reply. On the inside she's seething, fire burning in her veins. She wants to shout back at him, to prove him wrong, but she knows it isn't worth it. But she hates him so much, for months she's hoped that he'd eventually be found dead and the Prophet would announce it on page ten, because it wasn't that important. She wants to punch him, she wants to use Cruciatus on him, see how he likes it, show that she's more than the tournament. Her greatest glory will not be something she did as a teenager — she will help Harry defeat Voldemort, and after that, it'll be onwards and upwards. It'll be the Chief Warlock (or Witch?) of the Wizengamot, it'll be returning to Durmstrang and mending years of horror. It won't just be duelling a couple Death Eaters.

       "But I suppose you think you are better than me anyway, because you do not have the Mark on your arm," says Karkaroff. Holly does not reply. She doesn't look him, she keeps her eyes fixed on one part of the wall, where a portrait of an old warlock sits. "When the time comes, you will not choose to defy. I realised when I heard what happened at the graveyard — you want to defy, but you never will, not when your life is on the line. You will preserve yourself and ignore anyone else suffering. You have always been weak."

       The door opens and the wizard walks back in. Karkaroff coughs. 

       "Well, Scrimgeour, I did not realise that the Minister had to take care of brats," says Karkaroff. Holly does not look at him, does not respond, but she knows that when she gets home she's going to be thinking about this, over and over. You want to defy, but you never will, not when your life is on the line... You have always been weak.

       "Miss Lippincott was rather heroic during the Department of Mysteries," says Scrimgeour, and Holly doesn't agree, not in the slightest. She let her step-father pull her away from danger, and when she tried to break free, she got hit in the head and fainted. She was nothing but a coward, she was weak. Maybe Karkaroff's right...

       Karkaroff makes a noise that sounds like a snort. Two wizards appear and move him out of the room, into the courtroom. Holly still doesn't look at him.

       "I heard you once went to Durmstrang," says Scrimgeour.

       Holly nods. "I did."

       "Excuse me for asking, but I am rather intrigued, you know how uncommon it is — why did you leave?"

       And here Holly hits a crossroads. If she tells the truth, will she — and every other child that's ever attended Durmstrang — get into trouble for using the Unforgiveable Curses? Will they all be looked at differently, seen at these monsters that lurk amongst us?

       But then, if she doesn't, what happens to the first years this upcoming September? If she stays quiet, there will be this whole new group of students, excited to learn about magic, and two weeks in they'll be told that they're going to practice the Killing Curse on spiders. She can't let that happen — if she gets looked at differently because of what that school did, then so be it. She can't let more children go through what she did.

       "They teach you the Unforgiveable Curses," says Holly, crossing her arms. She doesn't look at Scrimgeour, because she doesn't want to see how he reacts to this. "And not what happened at Hogwarts, which was just an overview so we knew what they were. At Durmstrang, we practiced them — two weeks into my first year, I was practicing the Killing Curse on spiders and insects, all of us did."

       And she explains everything. Halfway through she looks at him and she can't read his face, but she continues anyway. The problem with explaining Durmstrang is that once she starts, she can't stop. She'll just talk and talk and forget tiny stories that happened and she'll have to add them in, because every detail is important when showing how terrible it was.

       At the end, she takes a breath. Scrimgeour is quiet.

       "We will have to keep Karkaroff until further notice," says Scrimgeour. "This case would be international, but we have to do something about it — not many British wizards go to Durmstrang, but as it concerns some of them, we have the responsibility to start an investigation into Durmstrang. Thank you for telling me this."

       Holly smiles slightly, feeling a little shaky.

       She's done it. She's done it!

✧

       KARKAROFF IS DEAD three minutes after he's taken out of the courtroom. A masked Death Eater appears out of nowhere and puts a dagger to his throat, slicing deep, blood oozing onto the silver. And then, as other Death Eaters appear, covering ground, creating terror, Karkaroff slams to the ground. Bellatrix Lestrange is spotted by a few members of the Wizengamot, and one low-level Department of Magical Maintenance worker falls at her hand.

       But no one knows who the masked Death Eater was. No one knows that it was the same white cat sneaking around the courtroom, listening in to Karkaroff speaking to an ex-student. No one knows that she wasn't supposed to kill him, but as soon as she heard what he had done to her daughter, she had grabbed the dagger from her pocket and let him bleed.

       Good riddance.

✧

       "OH, MISS MARGO!" says Bellatrix, standing in the sitting room, the room that looks into the gardens of the Valen House. Margo is sitting on one of the armchairs, holding a cup and saucer in her hands. A wispy ghost has been illustrated on the set, silver outlining the spirit, and green ivy chaining the phantom to the white china. Her fingers had been tracing the outline of the ivy, the way it keeps the ghost in line. She's had to clean her hands since they got back from the Ministry, some blood got under her nails.

       She looks up. Bellatrix is standing next to one of the windows, holding a letter. She's tossed the envelope to the ground, and Margo stands up, leaving her tea next to the cup and saucer holding Narcissa's. Margo picks up the envelope.

       HOLLIDAY LIPPINCOTT

       "So now you're nosing through my daughter's mail?" says Margo, her lips twisting. She remembers earlier, what she heard that monster say to Holliday. You have always been weak. Margo was there, both to kill Karkaroff for his betrayal and to watch her daughter excel, but that man. She did what any parent would have done. And she enjoyed every second, seeing that bastard squirm and die.

       "You've got a smarty here," says Bellatrix, a sneer on her face. She hands the letter to Margo, detailing Holliday's O.W.L. results. Margo forgot that was today. Oh.

Holliday Hazel Lippincott has achieved:

Astronomy — O

Care of Magical Creatures — O

Charms — O

Defence Against the Dark Arts — O

Divination — A

Herbology — O

History of Magic — O

Potions — O

Transfiguration — O

       "Eight 'Outstandings' and only one 'Acceptable'," says Margo, a small smile on her face. That's all her, she knows it is. Her daughter is just like her, an intelligent wonder. Even if she wasn't there watching her grow up, she was in spirit, can't you see? Her remarkable intelligence shows it, proves that her daughter is the wonderful thing she sacrificed her life for. "I told you she's amazing."

       "If she's this clever," says Bellatrix, as Narcissa walks back into the room. She wasn't there at the Ministry; they were going anyway to kill Karkaroff, but when Margo heard what he had done to her daughter she had to be the one that ended his life. And they returned to the Valen House, waving the bloody dagger, they're victorious, and told Narcissa where they went for half an hour. Then Narcissa left the room, most probably to talk to Atticus about Lucius in Azkaban, and now she's returned.

       Margo's brows furrow. "She is not becoming a Death Eater," she says. She thinks of the dagger. Buttercup, the house-elf, might have cleaned it by now... "The Dark Lord agreed. She is waiting until the end of her education, and then, she will join."

       It will be safer that way. Whilst she's in school, it will be an issue, if she were to have the Mark. What if her sleeve got caught and it moved up? What if someone accidentally saw it? She would be imprisoned on the spot. She is not doing all of this, for her daughter to go to Azkaban. That will not be the end of this story.

       "No, I'm not saying that," says Bellatrix. She glances over to the door, and Margo follows her gaze. Atticus sits down in the room. He's paler than he used to be, she's realised since she's returned. "What I'm saying is that she could help Draco."

       "Absolutely not," says Atticus. 

       Margo turns. "I will decide for my daughter."

       "Holly is not getting involved," says Atticus, standing up. 

       Margo thinks of the dagger. "Holliday will if I think it's for the best."

       "I think she should help her cousin," says Bellatrix, looking pleased with herself. Margo turns away from Atticus, her fingers curling into fists. She watches Bellatrix's face change, just slightly, looking bitter. "I know that she can perform Cruciatus rather well."

       "She is not—!"

       "Atticus," says Margo.

       Atticus goes quiet, surprised. She's always called him At, ever since they were eleven. Ever since they sat together on the train, and Margo giggled because of how long his name was, and he laughed too and said how Margo was a weird name. From then on, they were At and Mar. But now — now is not the time for a nickname made by children. He cannot make decisions about her daughter, her Holliday when she thinks differently. How dare he?

       "I don't know if we should get her involved," says Narcissa, and she stands up, too. Atticus looks thankful, and Margo wants to scream at him. How dare he? This is her Holliday. "Draco's only a child, as is Holly — it's unfair to get her involved... Do we even know if she wants to be involved?"

       "She would if she knew it would help Draco," says Margo.

       Bellatrix snorts. "Little Holliday loves to be a hero," she says, putting on a baby voice. Margo wishes she could kill her. "That little boyfriend of hers must be wearing off—"

       "You forget who the Dark Lord prefers, out of the two of us," says Margo, quickly and swiftly. Bellatrix breathes in, but she doesn't respond. Margo moves away from her.

       The fact is true. The Dark Lord prefers Margo. Ever since she was asked to hide something for him — she doesn't remember what, she took her own memory to ensure it's safety — she's been the first in command. And now with her little Holliday being close to Potter, it's all perfect...

       "Margo," says Atticus. "Can I talk to you, privately?"

       "I suppose," says Margo.

       They leave the room. The kitchen's been Imperturbed, so Atticus walks that way, closing the door behind Margo. He turns to her.

       "What are you doing?" he asks. "I thought you were against this — why are you willingly getting Holly involved?"

       "Holliday," she corrects.

       "She goes by Holly," says Atticus, frowning.

       "I've been doing some thinking," says Margo. She crosses her arms, and she sees Atticus stand back a little, watching her with caution. "Whilst I was in Azkaban. A lot of the things the Dark Lord will do... It will all protect Holliday."

       "Her father is a muggle," says Atticus, and he glares at her. He's looking at her like she's gone crazy. "What do you think they'll do when they find that out? Allow it? No — they'll kill her and they'll kill you. Why are you for this, why now?"

       "Because they will never find out," says Margo. "But if he succeeds, every beast will be exterminated, the whole world will be safe and perfect for her."

       "The world isn't perfect," says Atticus.

      "It will be," says Margo, her eyes narrowing at him. "For her."

       Atticus looks at Margo, seemingly defeated.

       "The world isn't perfect," says Margo, continuing. "That's why Reg isn't here anymore. He died because the world wasn't good enough, so I will ensure the world is perfect to keep Holliday."

       "He died because you didn't realise what's right," says Atticus, frowning at her. She hates the concern on his face. He doesn't deserve to be concerned about Holliday, he doesn't know what's best for her. "Are you going to tell Holly this?"

       "Not yet," says Margo. "The timing's wrong."

       Atticus looks at her. She doesn't know what he's feeling, not anymore. She used to be able to look at his face and think, he's worried. They used to be so in-tune with each other. Not anymore.

       "She'll hate you, if Potter's dead and you've been on Voldemort's side all along," says Atticus, his voice low. Margo glares at him. He doesn't know her. "You don't realise, Mar. You didn't see her in the Department of Mysteries."

       Margo raises an eyebrow. "What, he's her Regulus?"

       "No," says Atticus. "Both of them are good."

       With that, Atticus leaves the room. Margo holds her anger, pushes it down. He's just bitter, she knows he is, because Sirius Black is dead and she bets there was still a little part of Atticus clinging to that teenage crush.

       She walks back into the sitting room, where Narcissa and Bellatrix are quietly talking to each other, standing next to the window.

       "I was thinking," says Narcissa. "I don't want Holly getting involved—"

       "Holliday," Margo corrects.

       "Draco calls her Holly, and so will I," says Narcissa, frowning. Bellatrix smirks. "I was thinking — Holly cannot get involved in Draco's task. He's said it himself, he doesn't want her having anything to do with this." Narcissa pauses. Margo's brows furrow. "But, I wondered if they could promise to protect each other."

       Margo raises her eyebrows. "The Unbreakable Vow?"

       Narcissa nods. "To keep both safe."

       Margo's lips curve, ever so slightly. Hm...

✧

       "GUESS WHO'S DEAD!" says Holly, when she arrives back at the Burrow. A bright smile is playing across her face as she steps out of the fireplace, opening her arms wide and rejoicing in the good news.

       Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who are all watching for something out the window, frown at her. Which makes complete sense because normally, it's a bad thing when someone dies. But, when your biggest fear gets killed mercilessly, according to one worried Ministry worker she passed on the way out, it's great news.

       "Karkaroff!" says Holly finally, grinning still. She walks towards her friends and she hugs all of them, because this is a day to celebrate. He's dead! He can't hurt anyone again, he's gone forever! The world is a little less evil, now that he's gone! "And the trial went amazing! They all know about Durmstrang, they're going to investigate the whole school! Oh, today is amazing—!"

       "Have you seen your O.W.L. results yet?" asks Hermione.

       Holly's eyes widen. "That's today?"

       "That's today," says Hermione, nodding gravely.

      "Oh dear," says Holly. She can already feel the butterflies appearing in her stomach, swimming around and making her stomach knot in worry. She did fine. She must've done, she did so much revision all of last year, and then all of the prep for the tournament... Surely she did OK. She must've done.

      Susannah appears, twirling around mid-air. "Go back to celebrating the dead bitch," she says, sounding bored. "Who cares about school? It doesn't teach you anything important, that's what Alphonse—" (the leader of the cult) "—told us."

       Holly gives Susannah a look. Susannah grins back at her.

       "I know I've failed everything!" she hears Hermione let out, putting her hands over her face. Holly frowns, and moves past Ron to stand next to Hermione. She takes a hold of her hands.

       "You'll be fine!" says Holly, although her own hands are shaking slightly.

       "I won't!" says Hermione, shaking her head.

       Holly looks at her incredulously. "You're the smartest person in our year, you idiot!" she says, trying her best to be reassuring, even if she's raised her voice in hopes it'll get the words into Hermione's brain. "You're going to be fine!"

       "What happens if we fail?" asks Harry.

       "We join the Death Eaters," says Holly, as she shrugs. "Explains why they're following a snake-man."

       "We discuss our options with our Head of House," says Hermione. Apparently no one thought snake-man was funny. It's fine. They're stressed. Holly is, too, it's just that she's got to wait until she goes home, so for now, she isn't going to think about it. She knows her exams went well. She left all of them thinking, OK, that went well? She'll be fine. "I asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term."

       Fleur begins to speak about Beauxbatons, but she's cut off by Hermione, who screams when the three owls finally appear, dropping the envelopes through the window Mrs Weasley frantically opened the minute before. Harry, Ron, and Hermione inch closer and get their letters, taking them and standing away from each other. They all fell silent.

       Holly looks up at Mrs Weasley, who looks like she's waiting for one of the three to finally say something, share what grades they got.

       "So — uh — are they OK?" asks Holly, raising an eyebrow.

       "Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about them?" says Ron, and he shows his results to Holly, who grins back at him and gives him a hug. She doesn't mention that she's planning to continue with History of Magic. She'll wait a couple weeks to drop that bombshell, that she's genuinely looking forward to the most boring subject that has ever been taught at Hogwarts.

      Holly turns to Harry, who shows her his.

      "You got an 'Outstanding'!" she says, and she throws her arms around Harry, hugging him tightly. She kisses him on the cheek and he laughs. "That's amazing!"

       "Well done!" says Mrs Weasley, giving her son a hug. "Seven O.W.L.s, that's more than Fred and George got together!"

       "Hermione?" says Ginny, quietly. "How did you do?"

       "I — not bad," says Hermione.

       "Oh, come off it," says Ron. He breaks free of his mum's grasp and crosses the room to where Hermione's looking at her results. Before she can react, he takes her results out of her hands. "Yep — nine 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' at Defence Against the Dark Arts... You're actually disappointed, aren't you?"

      Hermione shakes her head, looking rather unconvincing. She sighs and shrugs, smiling softy. "Maybe a little?"

       Holly grins at her, giving her a hug. "You're a genius, you're fine—!"

      There's a knock at the back door. Before Mrs Weasley can ask who it is, the door opens, and Holly's mother steps into the kitchen. Margo Valen does not smile.

      The rest of the people in the room go quiet. The happiness from the minute before had already disappeared, and Susannah's arrived again, only now she's singing a Beatles song.

       Holly looks around. Everyone looks nervous at the sight of her mother.

       "Uh, Mother, these are my friends," says Holly, smiling softly. She glances to her side, where Ron and Ginny have slowly moved in front of Hermione. Like her mother's going to kill Hermione on the spot, because of her blood. "And this is Mrs Weasley — she's really kind—"

       "Pleasure," says Margo, but she doesn't sound like she has any pleasure meeting these people. Holly glances at Harry, who doesn't seem to know what to make of her mother. She can already see the difference between this and when everyone met her dad. "You have a lovely home..."

       Holly winces. "My bag's upstairs, I'll—"

       "Can't the house-elf—?" her mother says, and she pauses. Holly watches her mother pause, and frown. She looks at Mrs Weasley disapprovingly. "Oh, yes, I remember."

       Holly looks at her mother in horror. Why is she being so horrible?

       Her mother raises her hand and Holly's overnight bag appears, it's strap hanging on her mother's palm. Oh. Holly didn't realise her mother could do non-verbal magic that well.

       "I missed you, Holliday," says Margo.

       Holly forces a smile. "I was only gone a day..." she says, but from the look on her mother's face she realises that this remark isn't appreciated. "Oh, Mother — Karkaroff died earlier today, isn't that—"

      "I know," says Margo.

      "How—?"

       "Because I killed him," says Margo.

       Holly's frozen. Her heart stops. A dark question appears in her brain, lingering around. How many people has her mother murdered?

       "Oh," she manages to say. She glances at Harry, who's frowning at her mother. He'll get himself hurt, she thinks, so she turns to Mrs Weasley. "Thank you for letting me stay, it was really kind of you, and of Mr Weasley to show me around the Ministry this morning—"

       "You don't have to thank them," says Margo quietly.

       Holly freezes again. She can't force a smile this time, as she moves to hug her friends, to say goodbye. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny keep on casting cautious looks at Margo, who continues to examine the room like a roadside toilet.

       (How many people has her mother murdered?)

       Finally, Holly goes to hug Harry, who for a couple seconds refuses to let go of her. "I'll be fine," she says quietly to him. "She isn't bad."

       "She looks it, though," says Harry.

       Holly frowns at him, and she forces him to pull away. She thanks Mrs Weasley again for letting her stay, how appreciative she is. Margo snorts at this, like the Weasleys aren't worthy of being thanked.

       "You don't have to—"

       "My dad is a muggle! They're purer than I am!"

       Margo looks at Holly in surprise. In disgust. And Holly realises, as she sees Harry step closer to her, that she shouldn't have said that. She said the one thing her mother must hate her mentioning — she remembers the way her mother looked around her dads' house in London.

       Quickly Mrs Weasley tells Holly that she can stay any time she wants. "O.W.L.s are over so we've got no homework, so maybe you can stay for two or three nights next time!" Ron adds, and Mrs Weasley nods at the good idea.

       But Margo doesn't seem to like that idea — nor the other ideas that Ginny, Hermione, and Harry mention, such as going to Diagon Alley to see the joke shop — but she doesn't comment on it. Instead, she gives the bag to Holly for her to carry, and they leave through the back-door, the kitchen still silent.

       "We'll be having words when we get home," says Margo quietly, and Holly feels sick. Her stomach's tying into knots. "But first — your aunt and cousin are over."

       She takes her mother's hand and they Apparate to the sitting room of the Valen House. Holly spots Draco, who looks paler than he did the last time she saw him, and Margo smiles.

       "Now, Holliday, you and your cousin need to swear that you'll look after each other, no matter what, in the upcoming year at school..."

       She already wants to be back at the Burrow.

—✧—✧—✧—✧—

so. a lot happened.

let me know what you thought! :-)

(also flo's coming next chapter!!!)