The news of Buckbeak’s imminent
execution sent waves of disappointment through the already weary staff. Even Severus,
who had initially supported Malfoy’s case, could be found consoling Hagrid over
a flagon of ale or helping Hermione as she worked towards the appeal. Evidently
he felt that the death penalty was somewhat unwarranted.

Amelia’s
mood was greatly improved by Hermione’s renewed friendship with the boys. The
shock of the board’s decision appeared to have healed the wounds in their
relationship and Amelia or Remus would often
find the three of them working on the appeal in the Library, late into the
night.

Ron
had taken over responsibility for the appeal. When he wasn’t doing his own
work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The
Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of
Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to
Crookshanks.

Her concern for the newly fledged
friendship between Severus and Remus had apparently been
unfounded, though she was still slightly appalled by her lover’s ability to
lie. He had spent his life in hiding,
she supposed, but still.

Severus was
touched that Remus had chosen to reveal the map to him – although the werewolf
had assured him that Harry would have had no
idea how to read it and still believed that it was an insulting parchment. He
also, truthfully, assured his new friend that he’d still thought it was locked
in Filch’s filing cabinets until the moment he saw it and had told Severus
the story of how it had eventually been captured at the end of their seventh
year.

Severus agreed
not to tell anyone about the map, and to take a shift watching for Black every
so often.

The weather, for the first time
in months, was finally beginning to improve, which further proved to lighten
her mood. There were tight green buds on the trees outside the castle and in
the tiny garden on her windowsill, furled and full of promise. Amelia
could feel the growing world begin to breathe again and it refreshed her.

0o0o0o0

Hermione appeared out of the blue
one evening, upset and excitable.

“I missed Charms,” she blurted
out, before she’d even sat down.

Remus was out with Poppy, Filius
and Professor Dockrill
(a somewhat worrying prospect, given her colleagues’ sense of humour and talk
of a Viking drinking game), so she’d looked forward to a quiet evening, mostly
involving tea, chocolate and a good book. Apparently this was not to be.

“I fell asleep,” Hermione said.

Amelia
frowned; her cousin seemed constantly exhausted these days.

“Well that’s not so bad, I’m sure
Filius will understand,” she began, reasonably.

“I’ve already seen him. He was
very kind about it, but he said I’d missed Cheering Charms, and that they might
come up in the exam.”

“I’ll give you a hand with that
if you’d like,” Amelia offered. Hermione looked
grateful.

“Thanks Mel.
That’s not all I’m worried about though.”

“Oh?”

“I dropped Divination today.”

Amelia
gave her cousin a long look.

“How exactly did you break the
news to Sybill?” she asked, carefully.

“Erm…” Hermione looked
uncomfortable, so Amelia attempted her stern
look. Her cousin winced and continued, “well, we moved on from palmistry to
crystal balls. It’s like staring into fog – yet another pointless exercise I
might add.”

Amelia
nodded, “It seems some people have the sight and others don’t… I’m not wholly
certain which side of that division Sybill falls on,” she added. Hermione
smirked.

“Ron
found it all very funny, and Harry wasn’t
helping either. I kept thinking – I could be catching up with Cheering Charms.
Then Professor Trelawny
offered to help…” Hermione trailed off and bit her lip.

“… And?”

“… and Ron said he didn’t need
any help as it was obvious that it meant there was going to be a lot of fog
tonight.”

Amelia
snorted.

“Me and Harry
burst out laughing, so she came over saying we were ‘disturbing the clairvoyant
vibrations’” she trilled, in a passable impression of the hapless seer. “Or
some such rot, and of course she started in about Harry
and the Grim again, and I… I lost my temper.”

Amelia,
having been on the receiving end of Hermione’s fierce temper before, gave her a
hard look.

“What did you say to her?”

“Only that the Grim was
ridiculous – she is a teacher, after all.”

Amelia
relaxed, saving Hermione’s reputation as a goody-two-shoes wouldn’t be as
difficult as she’d feared.

“Then she said I’d never be able
to succeed in Divination as I was so very ‘Mundane’.”

Amelia
tutted; trust Sybill to let her anger get the better of her.

“Needless to say I was upset, not
that it’s that big a deal – I hate
Divination – so I stormed out. And I’m not going back!” The young witch added,
with defiance.

Amelia
waved her off.

“I wasn’t suggesting you did. You
will have to speak with Minerva
about it though.”

Hermione looked dismayed.

“But I was so rude!”

“True, but Minerva’s
no great fan of Sybill either. I’ll go with you if you like.”

“Thanks Mel!”
Hermione said, with feeling. “I was just so worked up about work, and Hagrid’s
appeal, and Malfoy, and missing class that I just snapped.”

“Malfoy?”

Hermione didn’t quite meet her
cousin’s eyes.

“Um…”

Amelia
sighed.

“Alright, tell me cousin to
cousin. The teacher in me will go for a proverbial cup of tea.”

Hermione looked at her, as if
weighing up the pros and cons of discussing the morning’s events.

“It was after Care of Magical
Creatures,” she began, slowly. “Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were
taking the piss out of Hagrid because he was upset, so…”

“So…?”

“So… I hit him. Hard. Ron
tried to stop me –”

“Brave lad.”

“But I was too angry, so I pulled
out my wand and they ran off.”

Amelia
was unable to stop the smirk that was spreading across her features.

“I’d have hit the little bastard
too. You shouldn’t have tried to hex him though – not that you could have done
anything permanent – but you’d have been in so much trouble. Foolish, young
grasshopper,” she said, pulling her cousin into a hug. “Now, Cheering Charms…”

0o0o0o0

“She punched him?”

“Really hard.”

“Wow. Go Hermione!”

Amelia
and Remus were wandering the halls that night, taking their turn to patrol
along with Pomona.

“It’s about time someone taught
that little oik some manners,” the older witch said, bracingly. “I heard about
her performance in Divination, too – I suppose she’s alright? That much work would
make anyone crack.”

Remus nodded, recalling his own
obsession with schoolwork.

“I think she’ll be ok,” said Amelia.
“I think her patience is wearing a little thin these days is all.”

“And she’s got the boys back,”
added Remus.

“Yes,” said Pomona.
“Coping with things is ever so much easier when you’re not alone.”

Privately, Amelia
reflected that the last few years would have been nearly impossible without her
cousin.

Remus glanced at his lover; he
knew that he could manage alone – it was all he’d done for the past twelve
years – but this odd, fiery young woman seemed to chase the darkness away.
Glancing up at him, Amelia smiled and his heart
sang.

No matter what else happened this
year, letting Dumbledore talk him into teaching here was the best idea he’d
ever had.

0o0o0o0

Never, in anyone’s memory, had a
match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays
were over, tension between the two teams and their houses was at breaking
point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a
nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth-year and a Slytherin sixth-year
ended up in the Hospital-Wing with Leeks sprouting out of their ears.

It seemed to Remus that Harry
was having a particularly bad time of it. He couldn’t walk to class without
Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up; Crabbe
and Goyle kept popping up wherever he went, and slouching away looking
disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people. Wood had
given instructions that Harry should be
accompanied everywhere, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action.
The whole of Gryffindor house took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that
it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on
time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. He also appeared to
be much more concerned for his Firebolt’s safety than his own. When he wasn’t
flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk, and frequently dashed back up to
Gryffindor Tower
at break-times to check that it was still there.

As usual, Amelia,
Remus and Severus walked down to the pitch together, looking
for all the world that the electricity of the match wasn’t preventing a certain
level of professionalism amongst the staff. They knew differently, however:
although Quidditch wasn’t really their thing, Severus and Minerva
had almost come to blows a few evenings previous over whose was the better
team.

The other teachers of course were
maintaining outwardly neutral, but no-one wanted to see Slytherin win again. Pomona
was once again keeping book and there had been a flurry of visits to and from
the Greenhouses in the past week; dinner conversations often seemed to turn to
odds at the top table.

On the day itself Remus dug out
his old school scarf (in Gryffindor colours of course) and Amelia
had proudly produced a freshly knitted version herself. It came as no surprise
that Snape had also found his school scarf; as they walked down to the pitch
amongst the chattering throng of students, they felt suddenly that they were a
part of it once more. When they settled in the stands, Amelia
was astonished to encounter a prickle of house pride. They booed and cheered
along with the rest as the teams came out onto the pitch to a tidal wave of
noise.

0o0

Three quarters of the crowd were
wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon
them or brandishing banners with slogans such as ‘GO GRYFFINDOR!’ and ‘LIONS
FOR THE CUP!’. Behind the Slytherin goalposts, however, two hundred people were
wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittering on their flags.

Harry
scanned the staff box; Professor Snape
sat in the very front row, wearing green like his housemates, and a very grim
smile. Sat beside him, much to Harry’s amusement
were Professor Lupin
and Hermione’s cousin, both cheerfully sporting red and gold scarves and
beaming down at him.

“And here are the Gryffindors!”
yelled Lee Jordan,
who was acting as commentator as usual. “Potter, Bell,
Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Wood. Widely
acknowledged as the best side Hogwarts has seen in a good few years –”

Lee’s
comments were drowned by a tide of ‘boos’ from the Slytherin end.

“And here come the Slytherin
team, lead by captain Flint. He’s
made some changes in the line-up and seems to be going for size rather than
skill –”

More boos from the Slytherin
crowd. Amelia, however, thought Lee
had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person on the Slytherin team; the
rest of them were enormous.

“Captains, shake hands!” said
Madam Hooch.

Flint
and Wood approached each other and grasped each other’s hands very tightly; it
looked as though each was trying to break the other’s fingers.

“Mount your brooms!” said Madam
Hooch. “Three… two… one…”

The sound of her whistle was lost
in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. They watched Harry
speed off immediately in search of the Snitch, Malfoy hot on his tail.

“And it’s Gryffindor in
possession, Alicia Spinnet
of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goalposts,
looking good, Alicia! Argh no – Quaffle
intercepted by Warrington,
Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the pitch – WHAM! – nice Bludger work there
by George Weasley,
Warrington drops the Quaffle, it’s
caught by – Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on Angelina
– nice swerve round Montague – duck Angelina,
that’s a Bludger! – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

Angelina
punched the air as she soared round the end of the pitch; the sea of scarlet
below was screaming its delight –

“OUCH!”

Angelina
was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus
Flint went smashing into her.

“Sorry!” said Flint,
as the crowd below booed. “Sorry! Didn’t see her!”

Behind her, Amelia
heard Filius squeaking obscenities at the Slytherin captain, and she realised
that Remus was growling, very gently, under his breath; she stood on his foot.

Next moment, Fred
Weasley had chucked his Beater’s club at the
back of Flint’s head. Flint’s
nose smashed in into the handle of his broom and began to bleed. Amelia
hissed her displeasure, Gryffindor or not.

“That will do!” shrieked Madam
Hooch, zooming between them. Penalty for Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on
their Chaser! Penalty to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their
Chaser!”

“Come off it Miss!” howled Fred,
but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew
forward to take the penalty.

“Come on, Alicia!”
yelled Lee into the silence that had descended
on the crowd. “YES! SHE’S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

All eyes were on Flint
as he, still bleeding freely, flew forwards to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood
was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.

“Course, Wood’s a superb Keeper!”
Lee Jordan
told the crowd, as Flint waited for
Madam Hooch’s whistle. “Superb! Very difficult to pass – very difficult indeed
– YES! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! HE’S SAVED IT!”

“Gryffindor in possession, no
Slytherin in position – no! – Gryffindor back in possession and it’s Katie
Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she’s
streaking up the pitch – THAT WAS DELIBERATE!”

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had
swerved in front of Katie, and instead of
seizing the Quaffle, had grabbed her head. Katie
cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom but dropped the Quaffle.

Amelia realised that she had her
fingers in her mouth and quickly removed them as Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out
again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later,
Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin
Keeper.

“THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU
DIRTY, CHEATING –”

“Jordan,
if you can’t commentate in an unbiased way-!”

“I’m telling it like it is,
Professor!”

Amelia
couldn’t help agreeing with him.

Suddenly, Harry pulled around and
shot towards the Slytherin end, Malfoy hot on his tail once more – out of
nowhere, two Bludgers streaked past him – it looked like the two Beaters for
the Slytherin team, Derrick and Bole, were going to take him out simply by
crashing into him and whacking him until he fell out of the sky. At the last
second, Harry shot upwards at high speed, and
Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening
crunch.

Amelia
was suddenly on her feet and punching the air. “That’ll learn you, you scummy
bastards!” she shouted, her words lost by the roar of the crowd, most of which
agreed with her.

“Ha haaa!” yelled Lee
Jordan, as the Slytherin Beaters lurched
away from one another, clutching their heads. “Too bad, boys! You’ll need to
get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it’s Gryffindor in possession
again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle – Flint
alongside her – poke him in the eye Angelina! –
it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke – oh, no – Flint
in possession, Flint flying towards
the Gryffindor goalposts, come on, now, Wood, save -!”

But Flint
had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, Snape was
on his feet and Lee swore so badly that Professor
McGonagall tried to tug the magical
megaphone away from him.

“Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won’t
happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor
in possession –”

It was turning into the dirtiest
match Amelia had ever seen – including several
of her Uncle’s rugby union matches. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an
early lead, the Slytherin were rapidly resorting to any means to take the
Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried
to say he’d thought she was a Bludger. George
Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in
retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood
pulled off another spectacular save, making the score
forty-ten to Gryffindor.

Lupin, Snape and Amelia
had taken their seats again, just in time to watch Katie
score – fifty-ten to Gryffindor. Fred and George
were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were
thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took
advantage of Fred and George’s
absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after
the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely
winded.

Amelia
wondered aloud whether it should be possible to send off people who were acting
like shits.

Madam Hooch was beside herself.

“You do not attack the Keeper
unless the Quaffle is within the scoring area!” she shrieked at Bole and Derrick.
“Gryffindor penalty!”

And Angelina
scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred
Weasley pelted a Bludger at Warrington,
knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia
seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal: seventy-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd were
screaming themselves hoarse – Gryffindor were sixty points in the lead, and if Harry
caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. Almost all eyes were on Harry
now – including those of the Slytherins, though they were glaring – and he was
still soaring high above the game with Malfoy trailing behind him.

He must have seen it, because
suddenly he shot upwards – but Malfoy grabbed the end of his broom and held on,
dragging him down.

“Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor!
I’ve never seen such tactics!” Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where
Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two-Thousand and One.

“YOU CHEATING SCUM!” Lee
Jordan was howling into the megaphone,
dancing out of Professor McGonagall’s
reach. “YOU FILTHY CHEATING BASTARDS!”

Minerva didn’t
even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her fist in Malfoy’s
direction; her hat had fallen off, and she, too, was shouting furiously.

Alicia
took Gryffindor’s penalty, but she was so angry that she missed by several
feet. The Gryffindor team were losing concentration and the Slytherins,
delighted by Malfoy’s foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

“Slytherin in possession,
Slytherin heading for goal – Montague scores –” Lee
groaned into the megaphone. “Seventy – twenty to Gryffindor…”

Harry
was now marking Malfoy so closely that they looked like one player from the
stands.

“Angelina
Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor,
come on Angelina, COME ON!”

Suddenly, every Slytherin player
apart from Malfoy, even the Keeper, was streaking down the pitch towards her –
if they all hit her at once they were going to kill her – even Snape was on his
feet beside his friends screaming for them to stop – when out of nowhere Harry
shot through them and scattered the players, saving Angelina from a painful
block.

Snape grabbed Amelia’s
arm and pointed, at the other end of the pitch Malfoy was streaking
triumphantly down towards the Snitch – Harry
turned to follow him – he was gaining on Malfoy… Harry
flattened himself against his broom as Bole hit a Bludger at him… he was at
Malfoy’s ankles… he was level –

Harry
took both hands off his broom as the boys fought to reach forwards –

Around her the stadium exploded
as he pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air! They’d done it! After ten
years, Gryffindor had taken the Cup from Slytherin! She was vaguely aware of
Snape beside her with his head in his hands as Remus grabbed her and kissed
her, looking wild and shocking them both. Behind her Filius and Poppy were
doing a weird kind of victory dance while Pomona
and Professor Dockrill
high-fived and roared their approval.

The Gryffindor team were
streaking towards Harry and together they
descended, a tangled mass of red and gold. Wave upon wave of crimson supporters
was pouring over the barriers onto the pitch to meet them. Hagrid was below
them, plastered with crimson rosettes – Percy
Weasley was jumping up and down like a
maniac, all dignity forgotten. Minerva was sobbing harder than
Wood, wiping her eyes on a massive scarlet flag – Severus,
still looking crushed, was shaking her hand before she pulled him into an
unexpected hug. Amelia saw Ron
and Hermione in the crowd, beaming at Harry and
simply shaking their heads in happiness.

When the team got to the stands,
where Dumbledore was waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup, they looked as if
they would burst with happiness. Remus still had a tight hold of her, and she
laughed along with him, only the tiniest prickle of sadness present in her
lover’s mind.

For the first time, she heard
another’s thoughts – and wholeheartedly agreed with them – as Harry raised the
Cup, happy as he was, Remus thought: James should have been here.