LUCY:

Some people feel anger in the head. A rush of fire that ricochets around the skull and eventually spills out in a torrent of scorching words that can burn the paper world of headlines and publicity.

Some people feel anger in the soul. A force so strong that everything within the body demands something be done to show the world just how unfair it is.

Some people feel anger in the heart. A sting in their chest, a sharp exhale, a deep sort of furious animal that would prove to be dangerous if ever poked and prodded into breaking free of its cage.

Mum's anger had been in her head. The article still on Hermione's desk in our shared bedroom was proof enough of that.

Dad's anger had been in his soul. I didn't like to remember the times he had proven that.

I had the feeling Harry's anger was in his heart. I saw it in the way his eyes flashed when he talked about the trial, the way his fists clenched whenever we were sent away from where we knew an Order meeting was occurring, the way his shoulders stiffened every time someone stepped a little too close to a sensitive topic.

Like me, for instance.

Harry's shoulders stiffened every time George noted with concern the way my hands still trembled or Hermione tried to coax me into eating one more sandwich at lunch or Fred attempted to make a joke that I couldn't laugh at or Ginny tossed me something that I was too slow to catch or Ron commented on how tired I still looked. He only ever seemed to relax when I had drifted off to sleep, really, based on the conversations I sometimes overheard between Ginny and Hermione on the mornings they didn't realize I was awake but still too exhausted to open my eyes.

I spent nearly every waking moment where my eyes were open doing summer homework. It was exhausting, it was so much harder than it really should have been, but I did my best. I always worked in the same room as Harry, because neither of us liked being without the other. I heard Hermione whisper something to Ginny about separation anxiety one time when they thought I was asleep. Whether the way we seemed tethered by an invisible string at all times had a name or not, I always felt safest with Harry, and he understood that even if no one else did.

Sirius was another sensitive topic. It was only brought up one time, while Harry and Ron and Hermione were cleaning the mold out of a third-floor cupboard and I was trying to finish my essay for Potions.

"I think Sirius wishes I had been expelled," Harry said. "I mean, have you noticed how much time he spends up with Buckbeak? He doesn't talk to anyone as much as he did before the hearing, not even me." He sighed. "I just wish-"

"Don't you go feeling guilty!" Hermione interrupted. She shook her head and scrubbed with renewed vigor. "You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish."

Ron cleared his throat diplomatically. "That's a bit harsh, Hermione. I mean, you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without company either."

"He'll have company! It's headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

I tuned their voices out. I was trying to finish my sentence about the final side effect of a properly-brewed pepperup potion, but my fingers shook so violently it looked more like I was saying that "peypervp pOXon" caused steam to leak from the drinker's ears. I grabbed the top of the quill with my right hand in an attempt to still the shaking, but that just resulted in another stray streak of ink across the page that made an entire line illegible.

Anger flared in me, but I pushed it down and scribbled the whole line out. I had just finished rewriting the ruined line when Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the room.

"Still not finished?" she asked the three kids at the cupboard.

"I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break! D'you know how much mold we've got rid of since we arrived here?" Ron replied indignantly.

"You were so keen to help the Order... you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in." Mrs. Weasley turned to me with a far softer expression. "How is the homework coming, dear?"

"I'm doing my best, but it's not much," I admitted in a soft voice. I attempted to offer a weak smile. "Potions isn't my favorite, but don't tell Professor Snape, if he happens to be downstairs right now."

"I think he knows by now," Ron said with a playful grin.

I blushed a bit and returned to the essay as Mrs. Weasley left the room.

They worked in silence then, and I tried to finish out the last paragraph. But my left hand trembled more than ever, and when I tried to steady the quill with my right hand, the tip of the quill snapped.

Anger surged in me.

I couldn't push it down fast enough.

Then I snapped, too.

I sent the quill flying across the room with the force of a dart. If my hand hadn't been shaking so badly, it might have even embedded itself in the wall. For a second, all I could see was my scarlet fury.

And then that second passed, and a cold wave of sorrow flowed over me and extinguished every last flicker of anger, and I suddenly found myself fighting tears. Cedric had given me that quill.

Harry whirled around first. "Lu? You alright?"

I stared at the quill across the room for a moment before biting my lip and nodding.

Ron and Hermione turned around as Harry followed my gaze.

I buried my head in my hands, a strangled sound of exasperation escaping me. Harry was by my side in an instant.

"What happened?" he asked gently as he rubbed a small circle on my back with his thumb.

"Just got frustrated," I replied in a voice little more than a whisper. I lifted my head from my hands and stared across the room again. "I got mad because the quill broke and I threw it across the room and now I'm just..."

Hermione picked up the quill and studying it. "It's okay, Lucy, it looks like an old quill anyway."

"Cedric gave it to me," I choked out. "I should have been more careful with it."

"The twins can fix it in an instant," Ron said, picking the tip of the quill up off the desk and taking the rest of the quill from Hermione. "C'mon, let's go find them."

Hermione followed him from the room, and just like that, I was alone with Harry.

I continued to stare at the spot on the floor where the quill had been, not wanting to meet his worried gaze. But I heard the worry in his voice clear as day when he spoke.

"Same cycle of angry and sad?"

I managed a nod.

"Maybe a little more angry this time?"

I nodded again.

"A little more sad, too?"

I nodded a third time, lower lip trembling. But I inhaled slowly through my nose and released all of my sadness into a sigh so heavy the parchment fluttered.

"Looks like you're nearly done, though. Are you?"

I nodded. "Last paragraph. Then I only have reading left. No more essays."

"That's great!" he said, squeezing my shoulder. "You won't need to worry about the shaking while you're reading."

I nodded yet again.

Harry paused for a moment before saying, "I feel like I already know the answer to this, but if I offered to finish writing the paragraph for you, would you let me? Not write it, really," he added quickly, "but if you told me what to write and I only did the physical part of writing, would you let me?"

I looked at him for the first time and managed a small smile. "I think you're right, you do already know the answer."

He sighed, sending a resigned grin back my way. "It was worth a shot. You really are stubborn, you know."

"I've always preferred the term 'fiercely independent,'" I replied lightly. Ron and Hermione returned then with the repaired quill, and I blushed bright red. "Even if I need a little help sometimes since I can't use magic outside of Hogwarts yet."

On the last day of summer holiday, I was sitting on Harry's bed working through the last chapter of required reading while he cleaned Hedwig's cage when Ron entered the room with three envelopes.

"Booklists have arrived. About time, I thought they'd forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this."

I nodded as he passed me my envelope. "Thanks. I was wondered about that, too."

Harry settled on the bed next to me as we opened the envelopes. I took longer than he did — shaking hands hate breaking seals.

The twins apparated into the room with a crack, and Harry's hand instantly shot out for mine. He knew I always got startled by apparating, even if it was only the twins.

"We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," Fred said without missing a beat.

"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," George finished for him.

"We overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back, and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?"

Harry slipped his hand from mine to count dramatically on his fingers. "One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months. Yeah, I see what you mean."

"What's up with you, Ron?" Fred asked suddenly.

I glanced up to see him staring at the letter in his hands with shock written all over his face.

"What's the matter?" Fred jumped up and read the letter for himself. "Prefect? Prefect?"

George jumped up too and dumped the contents of the envelope into his hand. Surely enough, a prefect badge fell into his hand.

The twins seemed just as shocked as Ron.

"No way."

"There's been a mistake. No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect."

Anger. Ron deserved more credit, he would be a great prefect.

Sadness. Harry would have been a great prefect, too.

"We thought you were a cert, Harry!"

"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!"

"Winning the Triwizard and everything!"

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him..."

"Yeah... yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right."

Cedric was a prefect, I wanted to say.

I could tell without looking there was no badge in my envelope.

It seemed I could hear my dad's voice in the back of my mind, reminding me from beyond the grave that I would still never be as good as Cedric.

Anger pushed at my ribcage, flared on the back of my neck, but I hurriedly tampered it down.

I glanced at Ron. His face was still frozen in shock.

He stepped forward and handed Harry the badge as if wanting confirmation it was real.

At that exact moment, Hermione barreled into the room.

"Did you get-?" Her eyes landed on Harry, who was still holding Ron's badge. "I knew it! Me too, Harry, me too!"

Harry shoved the badge back to Ron and shook his head. "No, it's Ron, not me."

"It — what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me."

"Ron? But... are you sure? I mean-"

"It's my name on the letter," Ron said, his face bright red.

Hermione blinked. "I... I... well... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really- really-"

"Unexpected," George finished.

Hermione shook her head, turning even brighter red than Ron. "No, no, it's not... Ron's done loads of... he's really..."

Mrs. Weasley entered the room before Hermione could finish. "Ginny said the booklists had come at last. If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing... what color would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," George replied with a smirk.

"Match his what?"

Fred soon sported an identical smirk. "His badge. His lovely shiny new prefect's badge."

"His... but... Ron, you're not...?"

Ron held up his badge, and Mrs. Weasley screamed.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

George looked hurt. "What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?"

But Mrs. Weasley didn't hear him. "Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh Ronnie-"

I slid off the back of the bed in one fluid motion and slipped silently from the room, my emotions trying to claw their way up my throat.

Anger. The twins deserved more credit, too.

Sadness. Maybe Mrs. Weasley would have rather had Cedric as a son.

Sadness. I would never be as good as Cedric.

Anger. I didn't need my dad to be around to remind me of that.

I forced all of my emotions away as I continued walking. I forced the hurricane into a jar and threw it up to the stars, never to be dealt with again.

Now that the booklist had finally arrived, it was time to go get my new wand.

When I made my way to the bottom floor, Professor Lupin was ready, so we apparated to Diagon Alley. Professor Moody apparated with us, for extra security. I did my best to pay attention to all of the paperwork transferring my parents' funds to me, but a lot of it was in technical terms I couldn't fully understand. I understood enough to fill the pouch on my pockets with money to last me the school year.

By the time we left Gringotts, Mrs. Weasley had arrived as well. I went with her to fetch everyone's books from Flourish and Blotts, though she refused to let me help carry any. Then, while she went to Quality Quidditch Supplies, I headed to Ollivander's.

Mr. Ollivander seemed surprised to see me.

"Lucy Diggory! Cypress, unicorn hair, eight and a half inches?"

I nodded. "Y-Yes sir. But it..." Anger. Then sadness. I swallowed hard. "It broke. I need a new one."

He pursed his lips. "What a shame. It was a fine wand, and it chose you immediately."

"The right wand on the first try," I replied with a crooked smile. "I recall you being surprised."

He nodded. "Very! It was incredible! Let us hope for the same again."

He turned around and plucked a wand from his shelves. "It's not often I have customers your age. But let's try this one. Hazel, with a unicorn hair core. Hazel is fascinatingly sensitive to emotion."

I accepted it nervously. With the way my emotions had been unpredictably ebbing and flowing and rising and falling over the course of the past months, I feared I would cause an explosion the second my fingertips met the wood. But nothing happened, so he clucked his tongue disapprovingly and snatched it from my hands.

"Perhaps ash with a unicorn hair core, like your brother."

I swallowed hard as he passed it to me. A white-hot flash of anger at Voldemort. Then a frozen blue wave of sadness. Nothing happened this time, either, and it was also quickly taken away.

"Alder with a unicorn hair core, maybe. Very well-suited to nonverbal magic."

Again, nothing happened.

"Hmm, tricky, tricky. Let's try chestnut. It likes those who get along well with magical creatures, like your father, and who excel in Herbology, like your mother. Natural fliers, too. Chestnut paired with unicorn indicates a strong sense of justice, as well, very common among Wizengamot members."

I was optimistic as I accepted the wand. Creatures, Herbology, flying, a sense of justice? Sounds like me. But again, nothing happened.

Mr. Ollivander tapped his chin as he scanned the shelves. He froze suddenly.

"Curious..."

He used his wand to summon a box from the very top shelf. He laid the box on the counter and studied it for a moment before speaking.

"Rowan wood, phoenix feather core, eleven inches long."

A voice from the caves echoed in my mind.

"You're going to need a proper wand before you're able to do his bidding. Unicorn hair is the hardest to persuade. Am I correct in assuming that is your core?"

"Phoenix feather?" I asked, my voice very high-pitched and uncertain. "Isn't — isn't unicorn hair hardest to persuade to do evil?"

"That is true. But Lucy Diggory, I cannot recall a single instance where one of my own rowan wands has gone on to do evil in the world." He held it out to me. "Go on. Try it."

I accepted the wand reluctantly.

Magic surged through me like liquid sunlight, racing through my veins and warming me from the inside out. I experimentally swished it, and red and gold sparks shot from the tip, arcing over my head in a large circle before dissipating.

I'm not done yet.

When I made my way back upstairs, I was surprised to see Harry sitting alone in the boys' bedroom with the door open. I made my way over to the doorway and wrapped my arms around my waist.

"Hey Harry, I'm back," I said quietly.

He jumped a bit as he turned to face me. "Hey." He blinked and ran his fingers through his hair. "Lu, why'd you run off like that? Are you okay? By the time I made it downstairs, you were gone."

I sighed as I entered the room and sat next to him on the bed. "Sorry, I just... it was too much. I figured I would let you all sort it out and go get my books and my wand."

"Your wand?" he echoed. "What happened to your wand?"

"They broke it," I replied in a tone I hoped indicated I didn't want any questions about who "they" were or why my wand had been deliberately broken. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my new one. "Rowan. Phoenix feather. Eleven inches."

"Hey, mine's holly, phoenix feather, eleven inches."

I felt a bit better knowing Harry's wasn't unicorn, either. I knew Harry would never switch sides, of everyone else in the world I knew.

"Are you alright with the whole prefect business?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, now that you've had time to... I don't know, think about it?"

I nodded. "Oh, yeah, I wasn't upset about that. Hermione deserves it. I knew she'd get it. I'm not Cedric." I swallowed hard and glanced at Harry. "I did expect you to get it, though. Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm happy for Ron. A bit confused, but... happy for Ron."

"I reckon he feels good about it. I hope the twins weren't too mean to him."

"They were brutal, but he's getting a Cleansweep out of it, so I'm sure that'll help."

I nodded. "I can't imagine it would hurt." I tucked my wand away.

"At least we're in the same boat, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

We sat in silence for a sweet moment that ended too soon. Ginny appeared and said everyone was waiting for us downstairs, at Ron and Hermione's "Perfect Prefect Party." The three of us headed down together, and I congratulated Ron and Hermione properly, explaining that I had left to get my new wand and showing it to anyone who asked. But about half an hour into the party, I suddenly remembered that I had never finished the last reading for my summer homework, so I slipped from the kitchen, retrieved the book from where it still rested on Harry's bed, and retreated to the peace and quiet of the living room.

On the last page was a description of beautification potions. I started to read the ingredients list, but I stopped at "Rose petals."

Rose. The one who had killed my parents even if she never actually cast the curse herself.

Rose. The one who had led to the breaking of my wand even if she had never actually been in the caves. Or maybe she had been. I spent so little of my time in the caves actually conscious.

Rose. The one who wanted me to hate the Ministry and Dumbledore and my dad for the way the tournament ended.

Rose. The one who thought I might actually be glad she arranged for my kidnapping, who thought I might actually agree to work for the monster who killed my brother, the monster who killed Mum and Dad, too.

Rose.

Rose.

Rose.

The anger I had been trying to suppress for the better part of a month peaked.

Nobody was around.

I was free to let my anger overcome me.

I snapped the book shut and launched it across the room.