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SIYE Time:19:50 on 28th March 2024
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Fighting Fate
By Fey Falyyn

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:None
Genres: Comedy
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 59
Summary: Sequel to Fighting Harry. Fourteen years have passed since Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, and his life is perfect in almost every way. He went on to marry the witch of his dream, become the youngest-ever Head of International Auror affairs, and even have a son who loves flying as much as he does. There's just one problem. And her name is Meridy.
Hitcount: Story Total: 42241; Chapter Total: 3260





Author's Notes:
I really like this chapter. I know it's impractical, but it still makes me smile.




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“Come flying,” Allison urged on Tuesday morning, a smirk on her face. Meridy had run into her in the library, an hour before classes were to begin.

“I don’t fly,” Meredith said shortly, feeling her stomach knotting.

“What? The brave Gryffindor is scared?” the blonde shot at her.

Meridy rounded on her. “I don’t fly because my father did,” she said shortly. “Before he died. If he hadn’t flown that day, he’d be alive now.” It was a lie, but it was partially true. The first part, anyway.

Allison folded her arms. “So what, Gryffindor? Are you going to let your father’s actions dictate your life? I thought you were reasonable. Do you really think you honor him by living in fear?”

It was the most she’d ever the girl say at once. And what’s more, Allison was right. Meridy had been letting her father’s actions dictate her life.

Without a word, she swung her leg over the broom.

Allison arched an eyebrow, and followed suit. A moment later, she shot off.

Meridy gritted her teeth, and rose up, hurtling after the other girl.

A strange thing happened. Her stomach relaxed, and suddenly she was having the time of her life. All right, so maybe Dad wasn’t so wrong about flying. It was amazingly fun.

She laughed out loud, and feinted left, curving right to hurdle inches above Allison.

“Whoa,” the blonde said, eyes snapping, as she dove out of the way and circled back up, stopping her breakneck speed mere feet away, causing Meridy to flinch. “For someone with an irrational fear of flying, you’re a quick study.”

Meridy shrugged, falling sheepishly back. She was glad she was talking to Allison instead of her roommates. “I lied.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why the hesitation at first? It’s not your first time on a broom, either. You’re flying like you’ve done so all your life.”

Meridy swiveled to face her, almost losing her balance. “Actually, it is my first time. I wasn’t lying about that. I do have a problem with flying, and it is related to my father. But it’s not fear.”

“Care to share?” Allison asked, sarcastically. “And don’t lie; you’re a bad liar.”

She laughed. “Whatever. I had you going. Well–my dad was supposed to be this amazing flyer. When he was at school, he was a Seeker. Everyone always compares me to him, and I hate it. I mean–I’m glad he was good at flying. But every time I meet someone new, it’s ‘Oh, you’re his daughter,’ and then they talk about how I’m not a bit like he was, and how skilled and athletic and good-looking he was. I love–d my dad, but sometimes I want people to look at me and–and see M–Melissa sometimes, you know? Not who he was, but who I am, you know?”

It was dangerously close to the truth, and Meridy turned moodily away.

“That’s stupid,” Allison said bluntly. “He’s part of who you are, like it or not. And it’s obvious you’ve inherited his flying, if he was so good at it. But that’s not all, is it? It wouldn’t make any sense if that were all.”

“I wish you weren’t smart,” Meridy muttered. “My roommates are so much less clever than you. You’re right; that’s not all. But I don’t want to talk about the rest. Merlin knows I have to live with it.”

Allison nodded. That was the good thing about her; she didn’t press for information. Probably because she didn’t care enough. Or maybe because she’d learned, in Slytherin, that not all secrets were good.

“Want to race?” Meredith asked her, after a pause. “Back to the broom shed? And we’ll have to stay low; otherwise they can see us from the castle.”

The other girl smirked. “If you want to lose. But it’s highly unlikely we’ll be seen. The castle’s ages away.”

“I don’t mind it,” she laughed. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Then you’re on,” Allison said. “One–two–three–go!”

Caught off-guard, Meridy shrieked “Hey!” and hurtled after her.

Allison was an excellent flyer. She flew flawlessly, dodging obstacles and cutting turns dangerously close.

Meridy set her chin, and resolved to cut it closer, speeding up. She was lucky dodging the rocks; but at the very edge of the forest, a couple of branches grazed her face, painfully.

But it was worth it. When she came out of the forest, she was ahead.

Allison leaned forward, to coax more speed from the broom. Meridy did the same, feeling the competition leap up in her blood.

Suddenly, Allison swung wide, and came back to bump her. Meridy yelped, and nearly fell off, before looping over and bumping her back, then focusing on the broom shed, which was only a hundred feet away.

They both were straining as much as they could. Meridy narrowed her eyes focused every particle of her being on getting there first.

Allison didn’t slow down as she reached the shed. Meridy kept glancing at her, and waiting for her to slow down. But she didn’t. And so Meridy didn’t either.

They were closer now–twenty feet. Then fifteen. Then ten. They were too close; they were going too fast. They were going to crash–

Next thing Meridy knew, she was within five feet of the broom shed, and then everything went black.





“Wake up, Black, you idiot! If you’ve gone and killed yourself I’m going to murder you. You didn’t turn!”

If Meridy’s head hadn’t hurt so much, she might have heard the actual fear in Allison’s voice. As it was…

“You’re supposed to turn?” she asked, groggily, opening her eyes.

Allison exhaled. “You moron! How else were you going to stop from crashing?”

“I didn’t know,” Meridy protested, much offended, beginning to sit up.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Allison demanded. “Don’t move! Is anything broken?”

Meridy lay back down, quickly, and winced as her head swam. Carefully, she tried moving each joint, feeling acute pain.

“You weren’t slowing down; I wasn’t going to eith–ah!” She’d found something that hurt.

The Slytherin looked her over, concerned, and shook her head. “You’re crazy, Black. And you need the Hospital Wing. A bang like that was bound to knock something out of place, though I’m inclined to believe you already had a couple of screws loose. Merlin. You’re lucky to be alive. The school brooms are slow, but to crash into a wall going twenty miles an hour…”

“I can’t go to the Hospital Wing!” Meridy said, plaintively, feeling her forehead for blood. There was quite a lot of it.

Allison gave her a look that told her she was being dumb. “Listen to me,” she said slowly. “There is blood everywhere, your arm appears to be broken, and unless I’m very much mistaken, there is something seriously wrong with your head. Madame Pomfrey won’t ask very many questions, and you can always refuse to answer. You don’t exactly have a choice.”

“Yes, I do. I always have a choice. Look at that butterfly,” Meredith said dreamily. “Isn’t it pretty?”

The other girl looked alarmed. “Come on,” she said, grabbing Meridy’s arm and helping her up. “Can you walk?”

“Yep,” Meridy said, and then staggered as white stars appeared in the corners of her eyes and obscured her vision. When her head stopped swimming, she was on her knees.

Allison gave her another look. “Liar.”

“I can walk,” Meridy protested again. “It’s just that my head feels funny.”

“I wonder why,” the blonde girl growled. “Come on. The sooner you get to the Hospital Wing, the better. And Merlin knows how many people are going to see me walking with you.”

“I’m wounded,” Meredith said. “Literally. And deeply injured. After all we’ve been through together–”

“Shut up,” Allison told her. “Walk. We don’t want anyone coming along and seeing the state of the broom shed.”

Meridy looked and saw that several boards were knocked in. She winced, rubbing her head. “Did I do that?”

“Yeah, well, it’ll be much better if we can get you healed before it’s discovered,” Allison told her. “Otherwise you might be associated with it. Lucky Quidditch hasn’t started yet. And funnily enough, the school broom seems to be fine. I always knew they made the Comets out of rocks.”

Meridy nodded, and then froze as the white stars out came again and her knees buckled.

“Don’t do that!” Allison cried, exasperated. “Don’t you ever learn?”

“Sorry,” she said feebly, feeling stupid and disliking the sensation. “I forgot.”

Allison rolled her eyes, and they continued up the hill in silence.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Allison said, suddenly, as they reached the castle doors.

“And if you’re lucky, you won’t again,” Meridy muttered.

Allison smirked. “One can only hope. But…I’m kind of glad I did, even if you are a moron. Don’t tell anyone; I would hate for it to get around school that there’s a Gryffindor worth something in the world.”

“What, just because I crashed into a shed because I wanted to win?” Meridy asked, cynically.

Allison smiled. “Yes. I can’t believe you’re in Gryffindor. You’re much too intelligent, aside from the whole crashing into the shed thing.”

Meridy scowled. “Gryffindors have Potions tomorrow with the Slytherins. Do you want to be table partners, or would that be too much for you?” she asked, amazed that she was able to force the words coherently out, and even more amazed that the thought had formed coherently. “I hear Snape makes the first years work with a table partner.”

“Why?” the other girl asked bluntly.

“Because none of my House has thought to go illegally flying yet this year,” she replied, equally bluntly. “And if they did, they probably wouldn’t understand crashing into a shed to win, except maybe the boys. And I did win. You have to give me that.”

Allison scowled. “Fine. You want a table partner in Potions? You got it. Snape’ll stare and give me dark looks and my year mates will probably curse me in my sleep, but whatever. It’s on your conscience.”

“Hey, mine’ll do the same,” Meredith said. “What’s life without a little revolution? Uh-oh–person.” She ducked behind a statue.

Allison rolled her eyes and waited until the fourth year had passed to pull her out. “The old ways are the best,” she said, continuing their conversation. “I don’t like change.”

“No Slytherin does,” Meridy said cheerfully. “But it’s good for you. And this isn’t much change–just something to get people talking. The school needs talk, you know. The wind from gossip is what holds the walls up.”

“You’re insufferable,” Allison proclaimed. “But–you might be right. I’m in.”

“Good,” Meridy said.

Another person rounded the corner. Meridy nearly fell back, not wanting to be seen looking like something the cat dragged in, until she saw who it was.

“What eez zis?!” Aurelie exclaimed, coming to a dead stop, her inborn French accent coming through, as it always did when she was startled. “Mer–child, what have you done?”

“Nothing,” Meridy said sheepishly. Aside from the fact that Aurelie had almost just said “Meredith,” it had just occurred to her that although Aurelie wouldn’t tell on her to the professors or prefects, she might very well write to her mother. She chanced a glance over at Allison, who was watching the scene with narrowed eyes.

Aurelie gave her a sharp look. “I do not believe you. Are you going to the Hospital Wing? That arm looks broken, and there is certainly something wrong with your head.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Meridy complained. “My head is fine.”

Her beautiful cousin almost smiled. “There has always been something wrong with your head. Hospital Wing? Now, or I will call a professor.” Her eyes found Allison for the first time, in Slytherin colors, and she frowned. “Have you been dueling?”

“No,” Mer said grumpily. Why would she assume she was dueling, just because she was bloody and accompanied by a Slytherin? That wasn’t fair. “This one’s a good sort. Even if we had dueled, then she would have been bloody, too.”

Aurelie continued to look suspicious. “Isn’t your brother Gary Malfoy?” she asked Allison.

Allison’s chin jutted out dangerously; she was back into her cool Slytherin exterior. “Yes. So what?”

“Don’t judge her because of who she’s related to, Ar-lee,” Meridy pleaded, a dark undertone in her voice–surely Aurelie would remember why her little cousin was here today under the name of Black. “And I think Gary’s a good sort, too. He helped me with my luggage by the train.”

Aurelie shrugged her magnificent shoulders. “I was not judging. Only wondering. His Transfiguration scores are excellent, and Professor McGonagall was speaking of him yesterday.”

Allison’s jaw relaxed, and her stance was no longer quite so rigid. Meridy took one look at her and decided this was one girl who had spent her entire life being judged because of her family. No wonder they got along–kind of.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Hospital Wing–NOW,” Aurelie told her, and continued down the hall, her nose in the air. Meridy and Allison started off in the other direction.

“I didn’t know you had met Gary,” Allison said, suddenly, after they had walked a ways in silence.

Meridy shrugged, much as her cousin had done moments before. “Only in passing. He helped me with my trunk on the train, like I said. I didn’t realize the two of you were related.”

This was apparently the right thing to say, because the other girl’s shoulders relaxed. But she changed the subject.

“If a Ravenclaw thinks we were dueling, then what are your classmates going to say if we work together in Potions?”

“That it’s unfair for the two smartest people in the room to be sharing a cauldron,” Meridy said, staunchly joking.

Surprisingly, Allison laughed. “Fair enough. Who was the Ravenclaw, by the way?”

Meridy counted to three before she answered, to distance herself mentally from her cousin. “That’s Aurelie Delacour-Weasley. Her mum is friends with my aunt, so I’ve talked to her a couple of times before.”

“She’s beautiful,” Allison said with a frown. “Weasley? Not Harry Potter’s niece?”

“I believe so,” Meridy replied, carefully. “Her mother was a Triwizard Champion, years ago.”

“And her father Harry Potter’s brother-in-law,” Allison finished.

There was silence for a few moments. This early, the halls were still mostly empty and quiet. Allison was still frowning.

“What do you think about Harry Potter?” Meridy asked, curious.

“Me?” Allison asked. “What does it matter what I think?”

“It matters to me,” Meredith said quietly. “What do you think?”

The Slytherin girl appraised her face, ponderingly. “My brother hates him,” she said at last. “I know he’s a national hero and everything, but he did some really mean things to my dad at school.”

Because this fit in with the stories she’d heard her own Dad tell about a boy called Draco Malfoy, Meridy wasn’t really surprised. What did surprise her was that Allison wasn’t meeting her eyes. She was hiding something.

“Do you hate him?” she asked.

Allison thought about it a minute, and then nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Everyone thinks he’s such a big hero. Like a god or something. But…he’s only a person, isn’t he? I won’t go so far as to call him a lousy person, respecting your Gryffindor pride, but I don’t think it’s right to make a person out to be so fantastic that they’re flawless.”

“He can’t help what the press says,” Meridy protested, finding this unfair and working to keep the anger from her voice. “And he’s not flawless. He’s dreadful at wizard’s chess, and he can’t read tea leaves to save his life. And he is a hero. He can’t help that, either. To him, it wasn’t a noble or brave act for him to kill Voldemort–it was just something that had to be done.”

Allison didn’t gasp, but her eyes narrowed. “You said the Dark Lord’s name,” she pointed out.

“Fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself,” Meredith said quietly. “Harry Potter is quoted as saying that all the time. And he would know, wouldn’t he? He probably felt Voldemort’s wrath more than any Death Eater.”

Now Allison’s eyes were burning, like coals. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, but they were at the Hospital Wing door, and it was open.

Meridy walked in, not liking the wall that had risen up between them. She was trying not to be angry. Dad wasn’t lousy! He had nearly died fighting Voldemort, so that Allison and her family could walk around freely and not worry about being killed.

Except that her family was probably full of Death Eaters, she realized, with a jolt. I bet they would have been happier if Dad had lost–

“Good heavens!”

Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, had seen her and was hurrying over. “What on earth happened?”

“Erm...” Meridy figured that she should try to offer some sort of explanation. “I fell down the stairs, and I think I hit my head.”

The nurse gave her an exasperated look. “You certainly did.”

And she made Meridy, who was protesting all of the way, lie down on a bed while she fetched some cleaning solution, threatening her with horrific curses if she moved or went to sleep. As she did so, Allison slipped out of the door.


* * * *


“I’m going to have to inform your family that you have been injured, Ms. Black,” Madame Pomfrey said, about midmorning. She had flat-out denied the girl’s protests that she was fine and could go to class, adding darkly that if she wasn’t quiet she would have to spend tomorrow in the hospital wing as well.

Meridy wondered if this meant Mum and Dad, or the surrogate great-aunt who was living a suitable distance away. She preferred the latter.

The door to the Hospital Wing clanged, and Professor Lupin walked in. He came to stand by her bed.

“You weren’t in class, Ms. Black,” he told her, his mouth twitching. Then he frowned. “And none of your classmates knew where you were. They said you were gone when they woke up.”

Meridy nodded, and then winced. “I was.”

Uncle Remus glanced over at Pomfrey, who was going into her office, out of earshot. There was no one else in the Hospital Wing this early in the term.

“It’s not safe to go off alone,” he told her. “Hogwarts is a big place; it’s easy to get lost or hurt. And we’ve had a lot of problems with older students picking on first years the last few terms. Your father would never forgive me if I let you get away with sneaking around by yourself.”

“I wasn’t by myself,” Meridy protested.

He arched an eyebrow. “Then who were you with? All of your year-mates were in class, free of head injuries.”

She ignored the jibe. “I was with Allison. We were just walking around.”

“Yes, certainly,” he said. “Allison who?”

Meridy avoided his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You’re a bad liar, Meridy,” he told her, with amusement. “Were you dueling?”

“No!” she cried. “Honestly, if I’d been dueling, don’t you think my partner would be in here with me?”

“Not if he or she was older than you,” Remus told her.

She rolled her eyes. “You have such faith in me. No, it was my fault. I, um, might have done something stupid.”

“Really?” he asked, with mild interest, and checked the chart by her bed. “A broken arm, a severe concussion, additional head wounds, and numerous lacerations requiring immediate attention, including that interesting one across your face, and you might have done something stupid?”

Meridy scowled. He continued to read the chart. “Fell down the stairs? Now, that’s interesting. You’ve always been so coordinated. And, oh–look at this. Pomfrey has noted that she cleaned tiny traces of wood out of the lacerations, especially the interesting one on your face, and also notes that there was a leaf in your hair when she was checking the concussion. Have our staircases grown over with plant life, or have you been in the Forbidden Forest?”

“Neither,” she said defiantly.

“Then what’s your explanation?”

She shrugged. “I have none. C’mon, Uncle Remus. You ran wild in the forest when you were at Hogwarts–Aunt Tonks told me. We weren’t actually in it. Cut me a little bit of slack. I’m not stupid. I may have gotten a concussion, but I’m not going to get myself killed. Not much, anyway.”

Her adopted uncle and godfather grinned. “All right,” he said, in a conciliatory kind of way, and passed her a small mirror. “But you procured something else besides a concussion and broken arm, it seems.”

Meridy looked in the mirror, and her jaw dropped.

“Why me?” she muttered, flopping back down onto the bed as Remus heroically tried not to snicker.

On the right side of her face there were three long cuts from where the branches in the forest had grazed her, and they all overlapped the tiniest bit. And with the angles they were arranged at…

It looked just like a crooked lightning bolt.


* * * *


Harry cut open the letter, seeing the Hogwarts seal and feeling his stomach clench. Ginny came to stand beside him, frowning. “Harry, what–?” She began.

“Notice of Injury,” he read, and groaned in disgust. “It’s only the third day of term.”

“Didn’t Remus say that there have been several incidents in the last few years of older students cornering the younger ones and frightening them?” Ginny asked, worried.

Harry’s eyes flew open wide, and he read on. “‘The student in question, Melissa Black–’ Wait, Black?”

Ginny nodded, and took the paper from him. “That was the name she chose. Black, after Sirius. You would know, if you had talked to her any last week. Anyway–‘The student in question, Melissa Black, was hospitalized at 7:32 A.M. this Wednesday morning, after suffering a severe concussion, numerous lacerations requiring medical attention, additional head wounds, and a broken arm.’ Sweet Merlin. What happened?”

Harry took the paper back, and read on. “‘The student reported falling down stairs as the source of the injury. Complete and speedy recovery is expected. Further notes: old wood fragments were discovered in lacerations, all except for the face laceration, where young oak bark fragments were found. Student had leaves in her hair.’ Falling down the stairs, my foot.”

“Well, before you start worrying, Lupin sent something too,” Ginny said hurriedly, and her words were not unnecessary. A thundercloud had begun to settle on her husband’s face. “Maybe he can explain.”

Harry took the offered note, and opened it.



Harry-boy,

I’m sure that by now you’ve gotten the school’s ‘Notice of Injury.’ This morning Meredith wasn’t in my class, and none of her classmates knew where she was. They said she had left the dorm before they had woken up. So after class, I went to the Hospital Wing–where any child of yours can be found when unaccounted for.

She wasn’t off wandering alone, and she wasn’t in the forest, so don’t be too hard on her. I couldn’t coax out of her what had happened, but Madame Hooch’s flying class of Ravenclaws this morning discovered a couple of brooms moved–which is allowed, by the way–and a Meridy-sized hole in the broom shed wall. Aurelie saw her walking back to the school all bloodied up with a girl named Allison. My guess is that they were racing to the broom shed, and Meridy crashed rather than lose, because she apparently didn’t know to turn, according to Aurelie, who came up the Hospital Wing and forced it out of her, and Allison didn’t slow down. I wouldn’t have thought you would let your daughter off to Hogwarts without teaching her elementary broom safety, but she’ll learn better this way. The word is that she won the race.

So don’t be too hard on her. And remember how many times during your first year you ended up in the Hospital Wing.

Best,

Remus







Ginny started laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Harry told her, fiercely. “She could have been killed.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said. “People don’t die from crashing into broom sheds. She was just cut up.”

“And concussed,” he said. “I can’t believe she was so foolish. Obviously the other girl wasn’t going to crash, just to win. That’s just absurd. I thought Meredith had more sense than that.”

“Come on, Harry,” Ginny told him. “Was it just my imagination, or did Ron tell me a story one time about how in your first year you agreed to a wizard’s duel with Malfoy at midnight–having no idea what a wizard’s duel was?”

“That was different,” he said, affronted, but his voice was disquieted and then too rough. His recent memories of Malfoy were not pleasant. “Malfoy was a little toerag.”


“But you ran into Fluffy, and you could have been seriously hurt,” Ginny told him, ignoring the conflict in his voice. “It’s no different at all. Give Mer a break. At least she wasn’t wandering about alone or playing in the forest. She was just racing a friend. Unlike you–you were going to duel someone after curfew.”

Harry still looked mutinous.

“We were amazingly lucky. We could have died any number of times When I think of some of the risks we took…” he shook his head. “But Meredith’s not going to be like Ron and I were. She’s going to stay out of trouble, because there’s no guarantee that she’d be as fortunate as we were. I don’t want her to have to deal with half of the situations we got ourselves into. Starting now.”


* * * *


“What happened?” Jacquie asked, that evening. She had come to visit Meridy after dinner, upon being told that she was in the Hospital Wing.

Meridy smiled, but it was rueful. “Fell down the stairs.”

“Ouch,” her classmate said, sympathetically. “Did it hurt?”

She thought about it. Had it? “I don’t really remember,” she said. “It knocked me out. And then my head felt so strange. But my arm hurt a lot.”

Jacquie nodded. “I bet. Are you going to stay the night here?”

“Yes,” Meridy sighed. “Madame Pomfrey says I have to, for monitoring. But I get to go to class tomorrow, and work on homework later. What did I miss?”

“We had our first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson,” Jacquie told her. “And we had Herbology, another History of Magic. I brought you the History notes and assignment. Defense is going to be fun, I think. Herbology’s interesting, all about plants and such, and we have an Astronomy lesson tonight.”

Meridy flopped back against the pillow, feeling overwhelmed. Third day at school and she was already behind. “I hate missing things,” she said, plaintively.

“It shouldn’t be hard for you to catch up,” Jacquie said consolingly. “You’re really good at magic, and you can copy my History notes.”

The girl on the bed let out a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief at any rate.”







Meridy,


Wh at do you think you’re playing at, flying near the forest before daybreak? It’s not safe–it’s downright dangerous. There are all sorts of funny things in the forest, and very few of them are friendly. And who was this girl you were with, who let you race about your first time on a broom without telling you how to stop? Remus says that none of your classmates knew where you were.

Don’t let me hear of you trying anything like that again, or I’ll have Remus put a cow bell around your neck and follow you around. Really, Meredith, you could have shown a little more sense. You could have been killed. Flying isn’t just a game. It’s serious, and if abused then it’s dangerous. I don’t care if you won or not.

And I think it would be nice if you helped Hagrid rebuild the broom shed this Saturday–don’t you?


Dad






Meridy read the letter, and let out a sigh of frustration. Drat. How in Merlin’s name had he found out about the race? Or the broom shed?

The injustice of it made tears sting her eyes. They hadn’t gone into the thick of the forest. And it wasn’t Allison’s fault she was stupid. It had been an accident. It wasn’t as though she had meant to get a concussion and a broken arm. And having to spend twenty-four hours awake in the Hospital Wing doing homework while Madame Pomfrey monitored her consciousness had been punishment enough.

It was really no fun, being Harry Potter’s daughter, she thought, for the thousandth time. And here she’d thought she’d gotten away from that.

Jack had hung back, to see what it was. When he saw that she was crying, he looked alarmed. “Hey–don’t cry, Mer,” he said, looking to see if anyone was around. No one was. They had all gone to class.

Wordlessly, she sniffed, and handed the open letter to him. His eyes scanned it, and his expression grew grim.

“That’s harsh,” he said, and hugged her, awkwardly. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better. I probably would have done the same thing.”

His words meant more than she could say. Jack was probably the only person in the world who knew how much her dad’s opinion meant to her. She sniffed again.

“Uncle Harry’s just upset that you changed your name,” Jack continued. “Mum says that he’s emotionally fragile, and that he lashes out when he feels betrayed. Dad says that’s a load of baloney, and that it just hurt Uncle Harry’s feelings that you wish he wasn’t your father.”

“I don’t,” Meridy protested. “I just wish–”

“That people would stop judging you by him. I know,” Jack filled in, aggrieved. He’d heard it for most of his life. “Look, I get it. I have to live with the people who say, ‘You’re related to Harry Potter. You should be better at Defense,’ too. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be his daughter. But Uncle Harry doesn’t get that, I think. I think he just thinks that you hate him.”

“But I don’t,” she said, miserably. “I wish I was more like him, and I hate it that I’m not, and people keep telling me that I’m not. It’s not easy, being the Chosen One’s daughter.”

I know that. But I don’t think Uncle Harry does.”

The bell clanged, telling her that they were late to class.

“Drat,” she said, and her voice was muffled. “I’d better go to class. I have Defense. I missed it Wednesday.”

Jack nodded, sympathetically. “Keep your chin up,” he said.

“I will,” Meridy said. “I’m sorry you’re late.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be; I have Transfiguration with Uncle Remus. I’ll just explain it to him after class; I need to talk to him anyway. But you need to go to Defense. Professor Hawkins is new. There’s no telling if he’ll give you detention or make you the practice dummy for the day.”

Meridy nodded, and set off down the hall as Jack disappeared into the Transfiguration classroom.


* * * *


“So Ms. Black has finally decided to join us,” Professor Hawkins said when she walked in. “Concussion free? No more broken limbs? What’s your excuse?”

Meridy had just gotten herself under control, but with the whole class looking at her, she felt like crying again. She hated people staring at her. “No excuse, Professor,” she said, meeting his eyes tiredly.

He nodded, but there was a bit of a frown about his face, and he searched hers intently. “We’ll let it go, this once,” he said, after what seemed to her an eternity. “Find a seat.”

She flashed a grateful smile at him, but it trembled, and she quickly slid into a seat at the back of the room. Alyssa was trying to catch her eye, but she kept her gaze low, not wanting to talk.

“Well, as Ms. Black missed Wednesday, we worked on disarming,” he told the class. “Let’s split off into pairs and practice, shall we?”

Meridy got out her wand and her book, thumbing through into she found the section on disarming. She began reading.

When she looked up, Professor Hawkins was standing beside her. “The incantation is Expelliarmus,” he told her. “Let’s try it, shall we?”

Numbly, she stood up. “What’s the wand motion, sir?” she asked.

He showed her. “Now try it,” he said.

Why was he making her try it before she’d gotten the notes or even read the section on it? Meridy wondered, somewhat angrily. She was in a bitter mood. No one else seemed to be having any success, and they’d worked on it Wednesday. Why was he picking on her? She would catch up.

She tried it. “Expelliarmus,” she said, dully, and his wand twitched.

“Focus, Ms. Black,” he told her. “Concentrate. You’ll never manage in this class if you don’t get this.”

Fine. She had made up her mind that he was making an example of her because she had been late. He wanted effort? Bloody hell, he would get effort. Her temper rose. She hadn’t even looked at the theory!

Expelliarmus!” she cried, brandishing her wand.

There was a loud popping sound, and her teacher was thrown backwards five feet into a desk. His wand hurtled to a point some three desks behind her.

Uh-oh.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Meridy said, flying over to him. “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s all right, Ms. Black,” Professor Hawkins said, picking himself up with dignity and going to fetch his wand. “But I think we’ve learned something, haven’t we? Our magic and our emotions go hand in hand. We must learn to exercise control over both.”

“I don’t–” Meridy shut up. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Her eyes were probably still red, and she had never been very good at hiding how she felt. Her face was like a window, Mum said. Easy to look into.

“Take three deep breaths, and focus,” he urged her.

She did so, feeling stupid.

“Now try again,” he instructed. “And this time–control!”

Meridy took another moment to push down her irritation. She took another breath, imagining the anger and frustration draining out of her, and leaving her calm and serene as the lake.

Expelliarmus,” she said, clearly.

His wand flew neatly into her hand.

“Good,” he said, with approval. “Very good.”

Meridy smiled, feeling accomplished.

And then she realized that the entire class was halted, staring at her.


* * * *


“I want to talk to you, Uncle Remus,” Jack Weasley said later that day, before lunch.

Remus Lupin smiled. “Does this have anything to do with you being late to class today?”

“…” the boy said fairly. “But we’re waiting for Aurelie.”

Now Professor Lupin frowned. “Aurelie?”

Jack nodded, as the fourth year part-veela rushed in. “Sorry, I had Divination in the North Tower,” she said breathily, a bit winded.

“What is this, a family meeting? Where’s Meridy?” Remus asked, teasingly. This was his adopted niece and nephew, and he was as fond of them as he was of Meredith.

“Actually, we want to speak with you about Meridy,” Aurelie said, sweeping her long blonde hair back from her face.

Remus frowned. “What is it?”

“We don’t think it’s fair of you to tell Uncle Harry about Meridy,” Jack said. “He wrote her a note today, and it really upset her.”

“Uncle Harry and she are at odds,” Aurelie continued, giving her professor a severe look. “I never dreamed that you would tell him about the broom race.”

Remus held up his hands in surrender. “Hey! Give an old professor a chance to speak,” he said. “First off, the ‘Notice of Injury’ your Uncle Harry was sent mentioned several things that didn’t add up–falling down the stairs, mainly, while also noting twigs and leaves in her hair. If I hadn’t given him a logical explanation, it’s quite likely he would have stormed up here and demanded it from McGonagall, who would have discovered the truth and given both girls detention. I was trying to help. He’s not very logical when he’s upset, and he would have assumed something much worse.”

Jack nodded. “That’s fair enough,” he said. “But I still think it needs to stop. Meridy wanted a chance to be someone new, and she’s not going to get that if Uncle Harry hears about every little misdemeanor she’s involved in, and writes to yell at her and order her to make amends.”

“It might help if she didn’t get hurt,” Remus told him. “I can’t stop Poppy from sending out injury letters.” Then he frowned. “Harry did what?”

“Sent Meredith a letter ordering her to help ‘Agrid to rebuild z–the broom shed,” Aurelie said, making an effort to diminish her creeping accent, for she had learned French alongside English. “You do not write my father if I am found in trouble. This much stop.”

“It needs to stop,” Jack added. “It’s not helping Meridy. She hates it that her dad’s mad at her, and she doesn’t need to be reminded of it every time she makes a mistake. Uncle Harry made mistakes, too, and no one yelled at him. You should hear Mum tell the stories.”

“She already feels terrible about everything with Uncle Harry,” Aurelie finished. “You informing him of everything that she does won’t help. Let her be. She’ll be all right without her father knowing her every move.”

Remus thought about it. The children had a point, and it was good of them to stand up for Meridy. There was steel in their gazes now, beautiful Aurelie and direct Jack. They would go far, he thought with pride. And they had been taught well, to be so loyal of a little cousin. Even against her own father, he thought, and frowned.

“Well?” Jack asked, bluntly.

The werewolf sighed. “You do know that Harry’s likely going to be very upset with me, don’t you?” he asked, stalling.

“He’s not the only one who’s upset,” Aurelie pointed out.

Remus nodded. “Fair enough. All right, I surrender. No more writing to Harry about Meridy. Not,” he added “Unless it’s an emergency.”

Jack nodded. “That’s all we ask, Uncle.”

“Thank you,” Aurelie said, suddenly. “We don’t mean to order you around. It’s just–I get a fair bit protective of Meridy sometimes, and I know Jack does. It’s just that she’s so young, and so sensitive. She’s vulnerable, and needs looking after. I know you were trying to do that, but it’s only hurt her more. It made me so angry, to see her go from such happy little girl to such a sullen child when reporters came out. It was like she put on a mask,” her cousin shuddered. “And there was a different person, because she was hurt, and when she’s hurt she puts up a fine mental wall. She would get angry and take it out on Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. Now she has a chance to outgrow that hurt, and that insecurity, and to make her own name. I think we should let her.”

Remus smiled. “I know what you mean. And you’re right. She does need room to grow, and time for her wounds to scab over and heal without someone rubbing salt in them, which is probably inadvertently what Harry did. But it’s not his fault, you understand. He’s only worried about her, and wants to keep her from getting hurt, and he most certainly has the right to. He can’t know what it’s like, to be in his shadow. He’s always facing the light, so he’s probably never even seen it.”

“Real life metaphors,” Aurelie sighed. “But he doesn’t have the right to inside information on his daughter’s life, just because he’s Harry Potter.”

Remus laughed. “Get to lunch, both of you. I can only take so much berating in one day, especially from two students so much younger than me.”

Aurelie smiled, and Jack chuckled. “Thanks, Uncle,” he said. “We knew you’d understand.”

His nephew’s trust meant more to him than he could say, and Remus was young when he grinned. “Jack?” he said, as the boy was at the door.

Jack turned. “Ahuh?”

“Take Meridy out early one Saturday, while everyone else is sleeping, and teach her how to fly properly,” he said. “We can take care of that, at least.”

Jack nodded, appreciation of the idea showing itself in his face, and disappeared through the doorway.






Dear Harry,

Well, it seems I’ve been rooted out. Jack apparently thinks that you upset Meridy with your last letter, for he and Aurelie cornered me this morning to tell me that they don’t think it’s fair of me to tell you what goes on with Meridy here at Hogwarts, not anymore than I have a right to disclose as Head of Gryffindor House. They demanded that I cease correspondence on such matters. It was quite touching, how indignant they were. They’re Molly’s grandchildren, certainly.

Unfortunately, they’ve got a point. It’s not fair of me to tell you things that I don’t tell other parents, and under severe browbeating, I’ve promised not to discuss Meridy at Hogwarts with you any more, not unless there is an emergency.

I hope Ginny’s well, and Michael–

Moony


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