We're not gonna grow up
'Least not till the sun's up

Let's take the night off from caring 'bout tomorrow
Let's take our minds off the things we can't control
Let's take our clothes off and jump into the ocean
Don't know where we're goin' but it's somewhere out there

"Lost Boys"
Ocean Park Standoff

~

LUCY:

The fact that Harry had remained so adamantly on the sofa, on the fringes of the group, bothered me as I tried to fall asleep that night. I had been happy to see him, and I had no doubt he had been happy to see me, but there was something I was missing. I opted not to ask him about it directly — I thought it might force him deeper into hiding than he already was. Maybe it was just the two weeks spent with the Dursleys taking its toll, he always needed a bit of time afterward to remember that he was in fact loved and welcomed in the Wizarding world. Or... maybe it was the fact that he'd been demonized by the Wizarding world from June 25, 1995 onward, and the tide was only just beginning to turn since everyone finally believed that Voldemort was back. Or perhaps it was a combination of the two. Whatever the reason, Harry hadn't seemed quite like himself, and I tried to stop thinking about it. Worrying about it wouldn't solve anything.

I was only marginally successful. I overheard Fred and George bickering in the back room over what was on my mind. Fred was convinced I was still in "Harry Land," as he called it, but George argued that I was upset about something. They were both right, in a sense, but George was closer to the truth. I tried harder to shove my worries away, and the twins (not knowing I had overheard their conversation) tried to distract me by throwing out absurd product ideas for me to shoot down. No, Fred, I don't think anyone would buy fire-breathing chickens, I think breeding those would be illegal anyway even though we unfortunately know it's possible. No, George, I don't think selling punching bags with Umbridge's face would go over well, she is still a Ministry employee and could cause problems if she heard about it. No, shut up, both of you, we are not putting Percy's face on the boxing telescope and rebranding it as "Punch-a-Prat."

6:00 arrived, and we closed up shop. I was restocking Shield Hats when I heard a too-familiar strangled yelp outside.

I placed the Shield Hat already in my hands on my head, grabbed another one with my left hand, and grabbed a handful of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder with my right before charging out the door in the direction of the disturbance.

Archie Graye was flying through the air. I followed his trajectory in reverse and spotted the person who had attacked him at once, a menacing young witch who looked vaguely familiar. I charged forward and tossed most of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder at her feet before rushing over to where Archie had landed flat on his back and practically smashing the Shield Hat on top of his head as I tugged on his arm.

"C'mon, c'mon, she'll be able to see again soon!" I shouted to him over the sound of her indignant shrieks and the jets of spellfire narrowly missing us on all sides.

Archie blinked and struggled to a sitting position. "Diggory?"

"Archie, now!" I jumped to my feet and dragged him up with me, running us both into the shop and launching the rest of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder into the street before slamming the door shut and stopping all of the fireworks with rapidly-muttered spells and a wave of my hand. I wanted the shop to appear closed and vacant, just in case. I whirled around and yanked the Shield Hat off of Archie's head so I could see his face better. To my horror, it looked even worse in the light of the shop than it had appeared in the dusky shadows of Diagon Alley, bruises blossoming under one eye and along one side of his jaw with a zigzag of abrasions crossing his cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"How do I know you're really—" Archie backed away and narrowed his silver-blue eyes at me. "What's something only the real Lucy Diggory would know?"

"You've fancied Cam Rivera since you were eleven years old," I replied.

"Twelve, but close enough. I'm the real Archie Graye because I know that your favorite Narnia character is Peter Pevensie."

"I'm impressed, Graye. I don't think anyone else in the world knows that."

He grinned, which faded into a wince immediately. "Ow, Merlin's bloody—"

"Hold on. Er — I hope this works." I stepped forward and gently, somewhat awkwardly, pressed my fingers to his various facial injuries. "Episkey."

He winced again, squeezing his eyes shut as his face knitted itself back together. He cracked one eye open, then the other, then blinked a couple of times. "You're a wonder, Lucy Diggory. Thanks for the rescue, and the repair."

I offered him a small smile. "Happy to help. Oh, bloody hell, wait, we need to let your parents know."

"No, don't bother." Archie shook his head. "Too much effort."

"You know what, you're right, you can just use our Floo and head straight home—"

"And find an empty house," Archie interrupted.

I blinked. "Empty house?"

Archie nodded. "They're gone."

One beat of silence. Two beats. Three.

"Gone?" I repeated, numb dread settling over me.

"Oh, wait, Lucy, don't worry, they're not dead or anything," he said quickly with a shake of his head, "they just left the country. Apparently my fellow Inquisitorial Squad members didn't like my stunt a month ago and got their parents — the ones not in Azkaban, anyway — to threaten my mom, so they headed to Canada until things settle down."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"Dumbledore. I'm an Order member now. He was impressed by my whole Inquisitorial Squad thing and thought I'd be helpful. He just has me doing non-magic tasks so far, chores really, like errands, like today, but I turn 17 in September so I'll be able to do real magic then."

I huffed. "Bloody hell, I've wanted to be in the Order for a year now but everyone says I'm too young. Good for you, though."

"Want me to put in a good word for you with Dumbledore?" he asked.

I had to bite back a laugh. Dumbledore knew damn well what I was capable of doing for the Order. I truthfully had no idea why I hadn't been recruited yet. It made sense for Harry to stay uninvolved, but me? That was a mystery.

"Sure," I said, smiling, "why not. Are you enjoying it so far?"

"So far, so good," Archie replied with a shrug. "I'm still just trying to get used to the fact that this is my life now and I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

I blinked. "You're not?"

He shook his head. "No. If being in the UK wasn't safe enough for my parents, going to Hogwarts isn't going to be safe enough for me. If I'm getting hexed in the street, imagine what it would be like in the halls. We both know Snape wouldn't do a damn thing about it, and I can't have a bodyguard 24/7 either."

"But — it's school. What will you do instead?"

"Order business. I mean, hey, Lupin's in the Order, and the real Moody. And McGonagall, technically, I think. They can teach me whatever I need to know to get a real job by the time this war is over. At least I have my O.W.L.s."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I just stared at him. It wasn't fair that his life had been uprooted that way. It wasn't fair at all.

"Hey, don't look so sad on my behalf," Archie said with a surprisingly-genuine grin as he punched my shoulder. "I've had 'Renegade' by Styx in my head for several days. I've always loved that song, and now I think it describes my life rather well. Life could be worse."

I opened my mouth to reply that "Renegade" wasn't the best Styx song to relate to when the door to the back room opened, and Fred appeared.

"Who in Merlin's name are you talking to, Cub?" he asked. He then spotted Archie and waved. "Oh, hi Graye! Wait, why is your shirt all covered in blood?"

Surely enough, his once-white t-shirt was quite red, even though I'd healed his face.

"I had just wrapped up an errand for the Order when some Slytherin I irritated a couple years ago decided to use me for target practice," Archie explained. He grinned. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Sorry mate, that's unfortunate," Fred commented with a wince. "Lucky for you, we injure ourselves on the daily around here so I reckon we give Mungo's a run for its money at this point in terms of healing. Cub's still the best at it, though. I see she's got you sorted."

I shrugged. "Lots of practice."

"Reckon so. You have dinner plans, Graye? It's pasta night around here if you're in the mood."

Archie laughed. "You know, normally I'd decline since I'm wearing this lovely white shirt, but I think if I spill marinara on myself it'll be indistinguishable from the blood stains, so I'll take you up on it tonight."

"Great!" Fred clapped his hands together once. "George is working on it upstairs, follow us."

Naturally, the first thing Archie noticed about the flat was my ever-growing stack of fantasy books in the corner of the kitchen.

He whistled appreciatively. "Nice!"

"Why thank you," George said, grinning, "I knew these orange trousers made my arse look good, but I appreciate it nonetheless, Graye. Nice to see you as always, mate, but why are you all covered in blood?"

"Bit of an incident with a former schoolmate," Archie replied lightly as he crossed the room to squint at each title. "Ah, I see you've discovered The Silmarillion. You read it yet?"

I wrinkled my nose as I reached for four bowls — a fourth one had been added to our stack of three by George, who said it would come in handy if Henry came by for dinner one night. "Yeah. Bit dense, isn't it?"

Archie nodded, still looking at the stack of books. "Oh, for sure. I've only read it once, once was enough. Ooh! A Wizard of Earthsea! What did you think of it?"

"It's rather funny reading about every Muggle's different interpretation of magic," I said. Truthfully, that book had unnerved me. Names were of particular significance in that book, and seeing as I went by so many, the idea of a "true" name holding power made something deep within me squirm uncomfortably. I was Claire's sister, so I was Lucy Everlin. I was Cedric's sister, so I was Lucy Diggory. I was just Lucy. Just Lucy.

"It's part of a series, you know," he commented as he turned back around. "It's no Tolkien, but it was quite revolutionary for its time."

"You sure know a lot about Muggle books," Fred observed.

"Yeah, mate, it's neat!" George added. "What makes you so interested in them? I tried cracking one of Lucy's books once and I had no idea what was happening."

"Well, I'm a half-blood for one," Archie replied. "My mom's a Muggle. She read me The Hobbit as a bedtime story when I was eight years old and I was hooked. I've consumed every fantasy I could get my hands on since. I brought my favorites with me to Hogwarts, too. I brought multiple copies, just in case any of my dorm mates happened to steal one or burn one or otherwise destroy one, which is how I got Lucy into it."

"Why bring the books, if you were worried about theft?" Fred asked.

"They gave me an escape." Archie looked at me meaningfully. "Being one of the only Slytherins who wasn't a raging blood supremacist was far from easy, but I got to hold onto my Muggle magic with those books. They couldn't take my imagination away from me."

George nodded. "That makes sense. What do you love about those books so much, Cub?"

"Kind of the same reason," I said with a shrug. "He loaned me the first books when I found out Cedric was going to have his St. Mungo's internship. I was lonely that summer, and they were an escape, sure, but they were a way to feel less alone too. Surrounding full moons, for instance, when I couldn't be around other people. Real people, anyway. Oi, Fred, share with the class."

Fred was staring at the stack of books in the corner, a scheming, inspired, product-designing look on his face.

"You know..." he said slowly, "I think we could make a product out of this escapism idea."

"You mean like turning imagination into something you could actually experience?" I asked.

Fred nodded. "Something like that."

"We shall discuss this over pasta," George announced, "because I'm starving."

Since Archie was with us, we actually ate dinner at the kitchen table for once. The conversation flowed mainly between Fred, George, and myself, but I could tell that Archie was too amazed and excited by what he was witnessing to feel excluded.

The product would be called the Daydream Charm. If we could invent a working incantation and create a companion product that would provide the sufficient imaginative material to fuel a proper daydream, we could combine the two into a vivid, hyper-realistic experience. From there, the discussion swerved into what the daydreams could be, and that was where Archie joined the conversation again, with brilliant ideas.

Archie suggested a Narnian Dawn Treader themed daydream, complete with pirates and the open sea and talking creatures and interactive characters.

Bouncing off of that idea, I suggested a daydream that was just like the barrel-riding scene from The Hobbit through the forests of Mirkwood.

Archie then suggested an Ent-themed daydream where you could ride on Treebeard like Merry and Pippin had.

George's eyes widened as he looked at me and declared that we needed a dragon-riding daydream.

"How do we come up with all of this imaginative material, though?" I wondered aloud. "I'm guessing we would need to find a way to more or less create a miniature incantation-dependent Pensieve to do this, but we would need memories to put in said miniature incantation-dependent Pensieve. It's possible that my mental images of these would be good enough, but I doubt it. I think it would be too incomplete to really be immersive."

"We need to find a way to make the memories somehow," Fred replied quietly, his eyes distant as a smile crept over his face. "I think this is where ridiculous and risky but fun and foundational life experiences are going to come into play, Cub."

"What, and nicking someone's motorbike didn't count?" I retorted.

"That was only the beginning." Fred's eyes were still dreamy and unseeing. His smile widened. "We've got work to do."

~

The very next night, I was just about to start baking our nightly batch of cookies when I realized Fred was nowhere to be found.

"Where'd he go?" I asked George, who was poring over the Daydream Charm blueprints we had started after Archie returned to Grimmauld Place, which was officially Order headquarters again since Harry had been able to successfully claim it.

"Not sure," he replied noncommittally.

"George," I pressed, not believing him one bit.

He didn't look up as he hummed. "Don't worry about it, Cub."

"I'm not worried," I said, "I just need to know how many cookies to bake. Enough for two people, or enough for three."

"No need to do that tonight."

"George."

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

George finally looked up at me and smiled. "You'll see soon enough."

"Well, that's not ominous at all—"

Fred burst into the kitchen then, grinning ear to ear, two bulging shopping bags in his arms. "Let's go make a memory! Here, Cub—" He dropped the bag, rifled through it, and pulled out a flowy white dress. "This is yours."

I raised my eyebrows. "Did you arrange a marriage for me?"

"What? No! It's a pirate dress!" Fred replied, as if that should have been obvious.

"We're going to the beach," George explained. "I apparated all over the coast today looking for a ship we could, ah, borrow for the night to make a memory for the pirate daydream. I couldn't find any that looked quite like the ship on the cover of that Narnia book Graye mentioned, but I found one close enough, I think."

"Is that where you were when that kid knocked over a box of fireworks and burned his eyebrows off and you claimed you were just upstairs working on the blueprints?" I asked.

He nodded sheepishly. "I said I was working on the Daydream Charm, not the blueprints. And I was working on the Daydream Charm, just... not the blueprints."

"C'mon, c'mon, we're wasting moonlight," Fred complained, tossing me a floppy black hat. "Wear this, too. The swords and lanterns are in the other bag, we can sort those out once we're all dressed."

"Aren't we going to be exhausted tomorrow?" I asked. "This could take all night."

"Who cares about tomorrow?" Fred asked right back.

"Tomorrow is tomorrow's problem," George added.

"In that case, I'll be back," I said with a grin as I spun on my heel and hurried upstairs.

I scribbled a quick note to Harry explaining that we were working on a new product so I was going to be too busy to talk for the time being. I then changed from my uniform to the dress and made my way into the bathroom to make sure the makeup covered all of the scars that the dress exposed — or might expose. I really did prefer trousers, but I understood why I was in the dress.

I undid my braids and fluffed my hair a bit, figuring that the loose ripples of my hair seemed quite pirate-queen-adventure-daydream-esque. With the floppy black hat on top, the look was complete, except for the sword.

My sword and the belt from which it would hang was waiting for me on the table. I laughed aloud at the boys, who were wearing even more elaborate costumes than mine. Fred had an eyepatch over one eye, and he'd charmed his hair black and somehow managed to grow himself a beard. George's hair was the same length as Bill's, held back by a navy blue bandanna, and he'd given himself a bit of scruffy facial hair. They were dueling with their own swords when I arrived, so I snatched mine off the table, jumped onto the table, and joined the fray.

"That's the spirit, Cub!" George said with a laugh, ducking out of the way of my blade and sheathing his own. "Alright, save the fancy tricks for the ship. I'll stand in the middle so you can each hold an arm, since I'm the only one who knows where we're going."

I jumped down from the table and did as he said while Fred grabbed the bag, still filled with lanterns, and grabbed his twin's other arm. With a loud crack, we landed on something that gave way immediately and sent us all sprawling.

"Bloody hell," Fred choked out, coughing because he'd topped forward and gotten a mouthful of sand. "Next time, mate, apparate us to the wooden dock, yeah?"

"The wooden dock's all rotted, else I would've," George replied as he pushed himself to his feet. "Need a hand, Cub?"

I shook my head and rose. "Wow."

Ships were silhouetted against the night sky, looking like skeletal trees. I waited for my fear of the water to hit me, but it didn't come. It was held at bay by my sheer excitement, even as we walked across the rotting wooden dock, even as we clambered onto the ship, even as we struggled to keep our balance on said ship. I couldn't believe I was standing on a ship with Fred and George Weasley in the middle of Merlin-knew-where, England. As I watched the twins argue over which combination of charms would propel the boat forward, I realized I'd never done anything quite that crazy before, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever do anything quite that crazy again. And just like that, I was experiencing one of the best nights of my entire life.

The rest of the world might have been at war, but in that moment, on the sea, excitement buzzing through my veins as I stood on the brink of a new adventure, my fears were quiet. The rest of the world could wait. In that moment, we were not just creation, but creators. In that moment, we were in control of the story.

I stood at the front of the boat (the bow, I thought?) as the ship lurched forward into the night. The twins let me just stand there and take it in for a few minutes, ship rocking back and forth beneath us. Once we were far enough away from shore that we could light the lanterns without being seen, we did so, then we bickered about where to hang the lanterns so we would be as well-lit as possible.

Then, the fun truly began.

"Alright, so—" Fred reached into the lantern bag and pulled out a large trunk. "I told the poor Muggle at the shop that I was shopping for my kid brother's pirate birthday party and I had forgotten costumes and decorations, and he told me that this was all we really needed. He called it a... treasure chest?"

"Oh, perfect!" I exclaimed. "That's where pirates keep their gold coins and jewels and other valuables."

He then popped the lid to reveal several gold coins, which flickered in the light of the lanterns. "Do Muggles just give away gold coins in every box they sell?"

"I doubt it," George replied, walking over and plucking a coin from the chest. "Oh, no, this is too light to be real gold. I think it's plastic. Henry says plastic is cheap."

"Oh!" I rushed forward and removed Harry's charm bracelet from my wrist. "We can add this as the 'real treasure.' Maybe in the memory, I could be an incensed vigilante trying to reclaim my queen's stolen jewelry."

"Stolen from her lover, perhaps?" Fred asked with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure. It's not like Harry will ever know about this anyway. Alright, so to recap the plan, we're going to start and end each memory with a specific, unique code word. While the memory is happening, so to speak, we stay in character no matter what happens because we don't know what will and will not be usable. Am I missing anything?"

"Only the most important part," George said, grinning. "Have fun!"

"Hear, hear!" Fred piped up.

I smiled. "Right, of course. Let's do this! You two, hide the treasure chest somewhere. I'll hide somewhere too, and then once one of you shouts the word, we can start."

They both gave me mock salutes, and we each found our places on the boat.

I ended up jumping over the side of the ship and holding onto the side, to make a dramatic entrance by swinging myself over onto the deck. I held my breath, shivers of excitement rushing through me. I was going to get to play pretend on a ship in the middle of the night with the twins. It was wild, it was crazy, and I'd say it was a dream come true except I'd never have imagined it was possible, let alone dreamed about it.

"Phoenix!" Fred shouted.

And just like that, it was show time.

I leapt onto the ship and drew my sword with a beautiful metallic ring. "I am here to find the stolen treasure of my kingdom! Anyone who dares to stand in my way must answer to my blade!"

"Blades are merely metal sticks unless they are wielded by a true master," George said, drawing his own and beginning to walk toward me. "Do you consider yourself a master, little girl?"

Even though I knew he was just acting, fighting fire ignited deep inside my gut at his words. You did that on purpose, George Weasley, you little— "Do you, old man?"

"I prefer not to brag of my mastery."

"And I prefer to let my blade do the talking!" I declared, lunging forward and knocking George's sword out of his hand.

A grin toyed with the corners of his mouth, but he forced it away to remain in character. "Very well then. You have forced my hand. Or my foot, rather." He jumped one, two, three, four, five times, grinning wider each time.

"What was that?"

"If it's the treasure you want, you will need to answer to Sir Frederick the Flappable!"

I furrowed my brow. "Don't you mean unflappable?"

"No, I meant flappable. Here he comes now."

With a sound eerily reminiscent of a hyena's cackle, Fred burst into view, laughing and swinging his sword wildly.

I tried to smack the sword out of his hands the way I'd managed with George's, but his movements were too unpredictable. I changed tactics and instead started swiping at his feet, and after a couple of tries, he started to lose balance. I pushed him closer and closer to the edge of the ship, and once he was close enough, I lunged at his feet and knocked the sword from his hands. With just a gentle nudge from me, Fred toppled over the edge and landed in the water with a resounding splash.

With Fred overboard and George distracted trying to haul him back onboard, I started searching for the treasure chest. (All while keeping a werewolf-ear out to make sure Fred really was okay, of course, which he was.) I located it deep in a shadowy crevice of the ship.

"Here it is," I whispered, for the sake of anyone who might be watching or listening in the future. "The queen's treasure. There's gold, of course, yet there is one treasure in here more meaningful than all of the gold in the world..."

But when I opened it, I found that the chest was empty.

"Bollocks!" I hissed. "I have been deceived. A decoy chest! The nerve! I will find the real chest, I will, and when I do—"

"And when you do, what?" George asked with a sneer. "Did you honestly expect us to leave something of such value in a place that could be so easily discovered?"

"Yeah!" Fred echoed, still giggling maniacally. "Where's the real chest, eh, girl? Where's the real chest?"

I lifted my sword to buy myself thinking time. Obviously the twins wouldn't have done anything genuinely terrible, knowing how much that bracelet meant to me. But they were certainly mischievous.

"If you will not reveal the location of the chest, I am left with no choice!" I said, leveling my sword at George's neck. "I reckon there are many fake chests in this world, many on this ship alone to lead me astray, but I can't help but notice that you summoned the fearful Frederick the Flappable when you were standing without a sword above one particular plank of wood."

"Sir Frederick!" Fred protested, flapping his arms about. "Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir!"

"That's ma'am to you, if you insist upon formalities," I said as I turned my sword to point at Fred briefly before turning back to George. "Step off the plank."

"I believe the terminology is walk the plank," he retorted, narrowing his eyes, "and I will do no such thing on my own ship."

I smiled menacingly. "Oh, I think you will."

I unleashed a new attack upon him, but he had grabbed his sword after rescuing Fred, so it was a more even match the second time around. Eventually, though, my stamina won out over his strength, and I was able to duck between his legs, swatting him on the back of the knees with the flat of my sword as I went, and dove for the plank. I used my sword to pry it loose, and surely enough, the true chest was nestled in the darkness below.

I tugged it up onto the deck just as Fred wrapped an arm around my waist and scooped me up as if I were a sack of flour.

"Got her, got her, got her!" he chanted. "Overboard?"

"No," George said, pushing himself to his feet with a scowl. "Send the treasure overboard. If I understand correctly, the bracelet inside that chest was given to the queen by the love of her life." He stepped forward and stopped my squirming by lifting the blade to my neck. "Wait. The queen has your same eyes, blue as the ocean below."

"My eyes," I panted, "are as blue as the sky above!"

With that, I wrenched myself free of Fred and yanked open the lid of the treasure chest. I slid the bracelet onto my wrist and sheathed my sword in two quick motions, jumping to my feet with a wide smile.

"Thank you, gentlemen, you have been such excellent hosts!" I jumped up onto the edge of the boat and offered the boys a mock salute. "If you'll excuse me, my king and kingdom awaits! Phoenix!" I landed on the deck again and shook my head. "Bloody hell, what was that?"

But all three of us started laughing too hard to answer.

We thought of more and more scenarios as we went along. I was a damsel in distress being held captive by Fred, and George had to save me. Then I was George's captive. Then George was my captive. Then Fred was my captive.

In one iteration, George and I tossed Fred overboard. Then Fred and I tossed George overboard. When it was my turn, I didn't say a word about my fear of water as they launched me into the inky blackness. The water was nowhere near as cold as Lake Tahoe, and I found that I wasn't as afraid anymore, either.

Cedric wasn't around to save me if something went wrong and I started to sink, but Fred and George were.

I didn't sink anyway. I started to swim.

I grabbed a hold of the rope they tossed me and let myself be hauled overboard and blasted with a quick Drying Charm so we could act out more scenarios.

The three of us engaged in melee combat with no clear winner. The three of us scurried around the ship, calling out nonsense orders to each other, swinging from every rope we could find, walking along the outer edges of the ship one foot in front of the other, skirmishing with our swords some more.

After a while, we were exhausted, so I perched myself as high up on the ship as I could as the twins whispered to each other about how the hell we were going to find our way back to shore.

I tried to memorize every last sensation.

The way the ship rocked gently, soothingly, back and forth and back and forth.

The way the night air clung to every inch of my exposed skin and permeated the thin fabric of my dress.

The way the waves lapped against the sides of the ship, a consistent splash playing a countermelody to the creak of the weary vessel.

The way the salty air tingled in my nose and in my chest.

The way the stars above were still there, even though I knew we'd become quite lost.

I closed my eyes and just breathed. Oh, Cedric, if only you could see me now.