puffwriter1998

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Master List

Addison Morris is a Muggle-born who enters Hogwarts one year ahead of the Trio. After attending the world cup and becoming closer to the Weasley gang, she finds herself within a beautiful love story in the midst of a terrible war. Will adding new characters change Fred’s fate? Will Addison be able to reconcile the longing she feels for her new world with the heartache she feels for her old one?

Follow me on my journey to share a fun lighthearted story set within the Canon Harry Potter universe. Some dialog will be taken from the original works by JKR. I would like to be clear that I don’t own any of the characters or original ideas from Harry Potter books.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Fanfic dot net link

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch. 5

Summary: Addison makes her way to King’s Cross and back to Hogwarts for her fifth year.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X OC

Word Count: 4.6k

The next couple of weeks staying at The Leaky Cauldron were filled with lots of tension and whispers between the adults. Immediately following the events at the World Cup, the Abbotts had offered to deliver me back home to my parents until the end of the holiday. I’d insisted that this was completely unnecessary, saying that I truly didn’t want to worry my parents over a band of drunken men who’d wanted to stir up trouble. 

 Truthfully, I was terrified of bringing the prejudices and problems of the wizarding world, home into their non-magical lives. If for some crazy reason, the Death Eaters wanted to come after me for what I’d seen that night, or even just because of my blood status, I didn’t intend for them to find me at home. I had half convinced myself that I would be able to avoid going home for the rest of my magical education, but I hadn’t been able to work out a good enough reason to be gone the entirety of the summer holidays every year. 

 Between afternoons of shopping for my school books and supplies in Flourish and Blott’s and enjoying ice cream sundaes with Charlie and Hanna at Florean Fortescue's I’d received several letters from Ginny; each delivered by the Weasley’s slightly decrepit owl, Errol. Each of them demanded to know exactly what had gone on that night in the woods between Fred and I. I hadn’t responded to any of them yet, simply because there wasn’t anything to say. We really had just sat together like a couple of scared puppies in the darkness. But I knew I’d have to fill Ginny in on the way to school. 

 The day before we were due back on the Hogwarts Express, we had just returned from purchasing sets of dress robes from Madam Malkin’s and were packing our trunks when a small screech owl began pecking at mine and Charlie’s bedroom window. The owl interrupted the first thought I’d had about how curious it was that we’d need formal robes for our year at Hogwarts. I quickly crossed the scantly decorated bedroom and opened the window to let the petite, proud-looking bird in. In the slight breeze that wafted in through the opening, I noticed the smell of coming rain. I groaned internally at the thought of trekking to the carriages tomorrow in the rain.

 The little brown owl stood regally on the windowsill and held out his leg to me. On it was a rolled up slip of paper with my name scrawled on the outside. 

 “I wonder who this is from?” I scowled as I untied the twine binding the roll of parchment to the bird. 

 “I bet I can guess,” giggled Charlie, who had given up on her packing momentarily and was spread across her bed. 

 I unrolled the paper and squinted at the messy handwriting on the page. Immediately, the name scratched into the bottom made my heart jump into my throat. 

 Morris, 

Hope you’re holding up okay after The Cup. I reckon you might be a bit of a cry baby, but you can cry on my shoulder any time. See you at King’s Cross. 

-Fred 

 I turned to face Charlie and beamed. I couldn’t believe Fred Weasley had taken the time to check up on me. My stomach twisted up into the same butterflies that I’d experienced before the World Cup. 

 “Well go on,” Charlie laughed, “What’s it say?” 

 I crossed the tiny bedroom and flopped down on the bed next to her. Even though we’d been staying here for a while, dust motes floated up from it through the dim sunlight filtering in through the discolored window. I held the paper out to her, “I think it says that he wants to meet me at King’s Cross tomorrow.”

 “You think?” she frowned and nearly ripped the parchment from my hands. She read it over a couple of times silently and pursed her lips. “You did not cry in front of Fred Weasley.” 

 We both bust into a fit of giggles as I grabbed one of the ancient green throw pillows and beamed it at her head. “Shut it! We thought we were going to die!” I managed. “Besides, do you think that’s what he meant? He wants to meet before we get on the train tomorrow?” 

 “It certainly sounds like it. Ooooh d’you think he likes you?” she asked, handing the note back to me. 

 “I doubt it,” I sighed, settling down further into the musty smell of the pillows, “honestly, he probably just feels bad that I was such a git about the whole mess at the Cup.” 

 Charlie propped herself up on her elbows and bored her emerald eyes into mine, “I know you think you’re disgusting or something after that whole mess with Cedric, but honestly Addie, that was ages ago. You just need to get over it,” she said pointedly. 

 I was slightly taken back by the bluntness of her statement, but I knew there was probably some truth to it. I opened my mouth to object, but before I could say anything she started again. 

 “And you’re kind of gorgeous you know,” she laughed. “Fred would be lucky to have someone like you. If I liked girls, I’d date you.” 

 “Not so fast there,” I chuckled. “Who say’s I’d date you?” 

 She clutched her heart and flipped over backwards like she’d been wounded. I laid my head down and stared up at the grey ceiling. Letting my eyes trail up and down the grain in the wood, I pondered what this note from Fred could mean. Part of me wanted to hope that Charlie was right, that he’d be lucky to have someone like me. I tried very quickly to shut that part up though; the thought of opening myself up to the humiliation and rejection that I’d felt before was a petrifying one. The number of students at Hogwarts was so small, almost everyone at least knew everyone else’s face, if not their name, blood status, and life history. Word got around quickly at school, and I’d surely never get a boyfriend if everyone thought I was desperate. 

 I let out another large sigh. Charlie ignored it and jumped off the bed and resumed putting her things away into her trunk. 

 “What’re you going to wear?” she asked. 

 “I was just thinking a pullover, it looks like rain. Why?” 

 “No, no,” she shook her head. “You’re hopeless Addie. Fred wants to see you! You can’t just wear your ratty pullover with the hood!” 

 “Hey how did you-” I started. 

 “You’ll thank me later,” she called over her shoulder as she dug through her trunk. After a moment she tossed an armful of light blue wool at me. “That’s my favorite jumper, and I want it back, but it’ll look lovely with your eyes.” 

 I held up the soft blue sweater and looked it over. It was the same color as the sky on a clear summer day; the exact color of the eyes my mother had passed on to me. 

 “You think a sweater will make Fred Weasley fall in love with me?” I rolled my eyes, but trying to hide the excitement on my face. The jumper would be a lot nicer than anything I’d planned to wear. We change into our school robes on the train, so I never put too much effort into my appearance on the morning of September first. 

 “I think you can make Fred Weasley fall in love with you dressed in a tea towel like a House Elf; the sweater is just a plus.” 

 I mused over the idea of pursuing Fred for the next several hours while we packed our things and had dinner with Charlie’s family. It was hard to imagine, I just kept seeing scenes of Fred making fun of me and me being too embarrassed and flustered to ever be somewhat appealing to him. Fred probably liked the funny girls, and funny I was not. I could appreciate a good joke as much as the next girl, but mine always landed poorly and were awkwardly timed. I just couldn’t make people laugh. 

 Several times, I almost talked myself into avoiding Fred the next day completely, and pretending like the World Cup never happened. But something kept telling me that there would be no forgetting that night. Not anytime soon anyway, so I might as well embrace it. 

 The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Abbott accompanied the three of us, still rubbing the sleep out of our eyes, to Kings Cross Station. The rain was coming down in sheets, soaking us to the bone in the few moments it took us to run from the Abbott house into the Muggle Taxi they’d called. Wind howled past the car windows as we drove bending trees nearly in half on the side of the road. Charlie and Hannah looked around with wonder, and told me that they only ever got to ride in a car when they were due back at Hogwarts. 

 I was reminded again of the stark difference in our upbringing. Riding in a car was how I got everywhere before I’d found out I was a witch, and was still how I got around with my family over the summer holidays. It was humorous how such a mundane activity was lighting their eyes up with excitement. 

 Lightning cracked overhead, causing us all to start, as we stood in the downpour and retrieved our trunks from the car. The jumper Charlie had lent me was clinging to my body awkwardly and had taken on the smell of a wet dog. My hair hung in long wet strands down my face and every time I wiped the water away from my face, it was immediately soaked again. So much for looking nice. 

 When we made our way inside, Mrs. Abbott pulled the three of us into a washroom and pulled out her wand. “No one wants to show up on the first day of the term soaking wet,” she said with a wink. 

 She quickly looked over her shoulder and pointed her wand at us. She murmured something under her breath, and suddenly all of the water from our soggy clothes was rising up towards the ceiling as steam. A smile slowly spread across my face as I remembered why I loved this world so much. There is no such thing as an inconvenience when you have magic in your pocket. 

 Now dry and comfortable, our group made our way towards the wall directly between platforms nine and ten. Given that this was my fifth year returning, some of the wonder that had come from running at the red brick at full speed and sliding right through, had worn off. Not all of it though. It was always slightly exhilarating to check to see if no one was watching, and then take off, only to appear safely on platform nine and three quarters, where the gleaming scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express sat on the tracks. 

 Hannah walked onto the platform following me, but took off towards a group of younger Hufflepuffs immediately, without as much as a “see you!” over her shoulder. I guessed that we’d never really be great friends. Charlie and Mrs. Abbott came through next, followed by Mr. Abbott, who today had chosen a grey jumper to compliment his mustache. 

 Now that we were in the presence of the train, the butterflies in my stomach returned. I hadn’t yet spotted the sea of red hair that would be the Weasley family, but I knew they’d be here any minute, it was nearly eleven. I was nervously adjusting my sweater time and time again the entire time that the Abbotts hugged us goodbye. I couldn’t even remember if I gave them a proper goodbye. 

 “Cool it Addie,” Charlie whispered out of the corner of her mouth as we crossed the platform towards the train. “It’s Fred, not the bloody Prime Minister.” 

 I nodded and tried to still my hands. I didn’t know why I was so nervous, I’d spent the entire night at the Cup pressed up against his chest. Surely I could say hello to him without feinting. 

 “Addison!” I heard my name called from the crowd behind me, and whipped my head around. A petite frame with a head of long carrot-colored hair was bounding towards me, agilely dodging students and trunks. 

 “Hey, Ginny,” I laughed as she reached us. 

 “You,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. “You didn’t respond to a single one of my letters.” She poked a finger at my chest. 

 “Hello to you too Ginny,” Charlie muttered from my side. We both ignored her.

 “Look, there wasn’t much to say,” I batted her finger away and laughed. “Besides, I figured it would give us something to talk about on the ride up today.” 

 The scowl that had settled into her brow softened. “Fine, but I want every single detail,” then she turned to Charlie. “Forgive me, had to get that bit off my chest. Did you both enjoy the end of your holiday?” 

 “It was alright, Mum just about wouldn’t let us out of her sight after what happened at the Cup,” Charlie sighed, “I’m just ready to get back to Hogwarts so I can have some freedom again.” 

 Suddenly, we were interrupted by the approach of another red head. This one taller, with soft brown eyes and the sweetest of grins set on his lips. There was an identical copy of him at his side. 

 “Hope you lot are ready for a bit of fun this year,” said George, the look of mischief clear in his eyes. 

 “Yeah, we’ve got a few things up our sleeve. Should be an interesting term,” Fred said, shooting me a wink over Ginny’s head. My stomach launched into backflips and my face burned red. 

 Ginny rolled her eyes, “You both would be wise to stay away from these two. They’re taking the pranking to a bit of an extreme these days.” 

 “You can’t tell me you don’t admire our entrepreneurship, little sister?” asked George, a fake pained expression on his face. 

 “Come off it,” Ginny grumbled, “You can do whatever you’d like, but keep it away from my friends.” 

 “Alright, alright,” conceded Fred, “But can I steal your friend Morris for a minute?” 

 Ginny glared at him. 

“I promise not to offer her anything to eat,” he chuckled. 

 “Fine,” she said finally. “C’mon Charlie, let’s go find a seat before all the good compartments are filled.” 

 They turned to board the train, followed by George who was grinning at Fred over his shoulder every few moments. As soon as they were gone, Fred’s goofy demeanor slipped away a little bit. 

 I had suddenly become very aware that my back was nearly up against the gleaming metal of the train and Fred was barely a foot in front of me. The bustling platform was starting to feel much more intimate. I slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans and tried to look up at him casually. 

 “Thanks for the owl,” I said too nonchalantly, “I know I seemed pretty shaken up that night, but I’m fine. Honestly.” 

 “Well, yeah, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, a bit of red creeping up into his freckled cheeks. “I didn’t think you were a mess or anything I just wanted to er- let you know I was thinking about you.” 

 “Oh, er- that’s really kind of you,” I stammered, trying to calm my racing heart enough to form a coherent thought. “I really appreciate you looking out for me. I don’t know if I got to properly thank you.” 

 “Don’t mention it,” he grinned again. “Besides, I didn’t mind spending the evening pressed up against a tree with you.” 

 I could feel the heat rising into my face and I knew my blush gave me away this time. I couldn’t believe Fred Weasley was actually flirting with me, but as long as it was happening, I was going to roll with it. 

 “Well I’ve got to say Weasley, you’re stronger than you look,” I put emphasis on using his last name, the way he always used mine. 

 “Got to be if Gryffindor’s going to keep kicking Hufflepuff arse on the quidditch pitch,” he pulled his lips back over his teeth and laughed. 

 “You wish! Just wait until you see what Cedric has in store for us this year. We beat you last year,” I pointed out. 

 “You beat us because Harry fell off his broom,” said Fred “Diggory’s no match for him.” 

 “This is going to be our best season yet,” I teased. “You’ll be kissing our arses when we win the House Cup.” 

 Fred ran a hand through his shaggy red hair and smiled at me again, “I guess we’ll see.” 

 Suddenly, the whistle on the train let out a wail, causing us both to jump. I remembered we were surrounded by people as I saw parents giving last minute hugs and handing forgotten belongings through the open windows. 

 “Better get a move on,” Fred gestured to the open door next to us. “Unless you want to take my dad’s car?” 

 I rolled my eyes at his joke and turned to climb on board the train. We walked down the narrow hallway, glancing into compartments full of students looking for our friends. Towards the end, I finally spotted Ginny, sitting with Charlie, Ron, Hermione, and Harry. George was nowhere to be seen.

 I slid open the compartment door and turned to Fred, “You’re not coming in are you?” 

 He smiled and shook his head slightly, “Gotta go find George. We’ve got mischief to attend to.” 

 “Right,” I tried to smile, but was slightly disappointed that he wasn’t going to be spending the day with us. “Well maybe I’ll see you later?” 

 “Definitely. See you later Addie,” he drew out the nickname that my friends used for me and winked. 

 “See ya, Freddie,” I replied, using the same tone. 

 I stood for a second and watched him turn and disappear back up the long hallway that was still buzzing with students trying to find a seat. I tried to wipe the silly grin off my face as I turned back around and sat down next to Charlie. I busied myself trying to settle my belongings into the storage space at my feet. When I looked up, the five of them were all staring at me with varying looks of smugness and shock. Most of the smugness was coming from Ginny and Charlie. 

 “Well I’m just going to say it,” said Ron finally. “What the bloody hell was that?”

 Charlie laughed. “Addison has a thing for Fred, obviously.” 

 “Do not!” I insisted, shooting her a warning look. 

 “Oh calm down,” dismissed Ginny, “It’s quite obvious that Fred’s got a thing for Addie too.” 

 “Fred doesn’t get ‘things’ for girls. I was starting to think he wasn’t interested in them!” bellowed Ron. 

 “Honestly Ronald,” interjected Hermione, “he’s nearly of age. I think it’s nice that he’s finally found someone he’s interested in,” she added reassuringly.

 “Look he’s not interested in me!” I blushed for what felt like the hundredth time today. 

“I think you all would be really good together,” said Harry matter-of-factly. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. “You both play quidditch, you’re both nice and my friends. I just think it could be a good match.” 

 Ron looked at Harry in confusion, but before he could say anything Hermione started again, “I agree with Harry. I think you should go for it.” 

 “Don’t I get a say in one of my best friend’s dating my older brother?” grumbled Ginny. 

 “Christ! We aren’t dating. I hardly even know him. He just looked out for me during the craziness at the World Cup, and he just wanted to make sure I was okay.” 

 “Oh yeah,” scoffed Ginny, “that’s why he spent days writing and rewriting that four line note he sent you. Face it Addie, he’s into you.” 

 I started to protest again but suddenly Ron was shushing us. “Oi! Listen!”

 Hermione was pressing a finger to her lips and pointing at the compartment door that I’d left open. I tilted my head and listened to the familiar cold, sneering voice drifting in. 

 “… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man’s such a Mudblood-lover –” my blood chilled at the word, and I noticed Hermione’s face pale, “and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do…” 

 Ginny suddenly stood up angrily, stalked across the compartment and pulled the door closed with a woosh, effectively cutting off the voice of Draco Malfoy. A Slytherin in the same year as Harry, Draco was the son of Lucius Malfoy, a suspected supporter of Voldemort from the first war. 

 “So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?” said Hermione angrily. “I wish he had gone, then we wouldn’t have to put up with him.” 

 “What is Durmstrang?” I asked.

 “Yeah, is it another Wizarding school?” added Harry. 

 “Yes,” Hermione said to both of us, “and it’s got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.” 

 “I think I’ve heard of that one before. Dad’s maybe talked about it. Where is it?” interjected Charlie. 

 “Well, no one really knows, do they?” said Hermione, raising an eyebrow.

 “What do you mean?” asked Ginny. I would have thought this would be a boring conversation for people already raised in the magical world, but Charlie, Ginny, and Ron seemed just as intrigued as Harry and I. 

 “Well,” started Hermione as if she were reading to us straight from a book, “There’s traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets.” 

 “Come off it,” laughed Ron. “Durmstrang’s got to be about the same size as Hogwarts – how are you going to hide a great big castle?” 

 Now it was my turn to have the answer, “Actually Ron, Hogwarts is hidden. I think they bewitch it so that muggles can only see old ruins of a castle.” 

 “So Durmstrang just looks like a ruined castle to outsiders?” asked Charlie.

 “Maybe,” said Hermione with a slight shrug, “or it might have a Muggle-repelling charm like the stadium at the World Cup. But I think It would be very far north. Somewhere very cold, because they’ve got fur capes as part of their uniforms.” 

 “Just think of the possibilities,” mused Ginny. “It would have been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident.” 

 “Shame his mother likes him..” snorted Ron. 

 I pondered the thought of the various Wizarding schools across the world as the train surged onward towards Hogwarts. The storm raged on outside the windows, and the sky was so black with rain clouds that the lanterns in the corridor were lit by lunchtime. We ate Cauldron Cakes silently as I savored the taste of the long missed Hogwarts cooking. 

 A few of Harry and Ron’s friends popped their heads in to say hello, and Cedric Diggory even stopped by to ask if Harry and I were ready for the quidditch season to start. Cedric had been very kind to me since the incident where he turned me down, and always did his best not to make things awkward, even if they were. 

 When Ron began recanting their experience in the Top Box at the Cup to Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor boy in their year, Draco Malfoy appeared in the doorway of our compartment; hair slicked back, a smug smile on his face, and his two goons Crabbe and Goyle towering behind him. 

 “First and last time in your life, Weasley,” he sneered. 

 “Don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,” Harry said coolly. 

 Ignoring him, Draco continued with Ron, “So… going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money involved as well, you know… You’d be able to afford decent robes if you won…” he said, glancing over at the mess of lace that I could only assume was Ron’s dress robes, covering a bird cage. 

“What are you talking about?” asked Ron snappily. 

 “Are you going to enter?” Malfoy repeated more slowly, like he was talking to a child. “I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?” 

 “Either tell us what you’re going on about or beat it, Malfoy,” Ginny piped up with annoyance. A sinister smile spread across Malfoy’s face. 

 “Don’t tell me you lot don’t know?” he sounded delighted. “You’ve got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don’t even know? My god, my father told me about it ages ago… heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry… Maybe your father’s too junior to know about it, Weasley… yes… they probably don’t talk about important stuff in front of him…” Malfoy laughed and motioned to Crabbe and Goyle and the three of them disappeared off down the hallway. 

 Ginny was clenching her fists so hard that she was surely drawing blood under her fingernails. Ron jumped up and slammed the door with such force that the glass pane shattered, sending shards spraying around the small space. 

 “Ron!” Scolded Hermione, pulling out her wand. She muttered, “Reparo!” and the glass that littered the floor and seats returned to the doorframe and repaired themselves. 

 “Honestly, Ron,” grumbled Charlie, “Don’t let Malfoy get to you like that. He’s a twat.” 

 “Him! Get to me!? As if!” Ron scoffed, but he was absentmindedly crushing a Cauldron Cake in his right hand. 

 Everyone was in a horrible mood for the rest of the train ride, so we continued the afternoon with minimal conversation. No one spoke as we changed into our house robes, the Gryffindor robes accented in scarlet, and ours in yellow. The Hogwarts Express gradually slowed, so I knew we must be getting close to Hogsmeade Station. Hogsmeade was the only entirely magical settlement in Great Britain, so it was the perfect place to let off a train full of young Wizards. 

Charlie and I excused ourselves to go find Hannah and a few other fellow Hufflepuffs before disembarking the train. As the doors slid open, a giant strike of lightnings accompanied by an immediate clap of thunder caused everyone to jump. I filed out onto the platform behind Susan Bones, a dark haired Hufflepuff in Hannah’s year. We bent over to brace against the rain, which was now coming down in what seemed like swimming pools full at a time. All but running, we made our way to the line of carriages waiting for us outside the station. 

 We climbed into one behind Hannah and Susan and slammed the door, shivering. We were all chilled to our cores, huddled together for warmth as the carriages started to roll forward, pulling themselves without horses. I tried to squint out the window at the passing forest, but couldn’t see through the curtain of rain. We soon cleared the trees and began the incline up towards the school grounds. Suddenly, the rain let up just enough for me to see. And there, etched in black against the night sky, was the silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, welcoming us home.

[puffwriter1998]

Why am I crying over the siblings Harry never had???!

so I was just chilling but then it occured to me

Harry would have bunch of siblings

If not the Voldemort they would be safe, Potter family had money so they wouldn’t worry about household (although they both would work hard not really wanting to use family fortune), they had supportive friends and most importantly - they were in love - they would have a lot of children.

James always joked that they need 3 kids so each one of marauders could be a godfather. Lily thought that big family would be a good thing (both she and James lost their parents to disease or tragic accidents, they would never want Harry to be an only child)

So.. may I present to you

Potter family if there was no Voldemort

Keep reading

[puffwriter1998]

a harry potter meme [3/5] places: Hogsmeade Village

Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

[puffwriter1998]

Move and live at your own pace. Just as important, live for YOU!

[puffwriter1998]

Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl.

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch.4

Summary: After the excitement of the World Cup ends, the real thrill begins...

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X OC

Word Count: 4k

A/N: If you’ve been following along, just know I’m so grateful!

I was slightly disappointed to learn that Mr. Abbott planned for us to have just one more cup of cocoa with the Weasley’s before we all needed to head to bed. I had mumbled a brief congratulations to Fred and George before settling across the fire from them, next to Charlie and Hannah. Everyone was arguing lightly about the match and enjoying themselves before Ginny fell asleep leaning on Mr. Weasley’s shoulder and he called an end to our evening’s festivities. 

 As we cleaned up our mess and doused out the fire, Fred came over to where I was rinsing out the cocoa with our meager water supply at Mr. Weasley’s request. Surely the dishes could be cleaned by magic, but being underage, I couldn’t even sneak it when he looked away. 

 “I can help you with that,” he took a cup from the fire and dunked it in the water. 

 “Oh, er, thanks.” I mumbled, thankful that the darkness could hide the blush that had entered my cheeks. 

 We worked side by side silently until all the day’s dishes were clean. I kept my eyes trained on the water, not wanting to accidentally meet his gaze. It was nice, being next to him, the small bit of excitement that entered the pit of my stomach wasn’t unpleasant. But I knew what happened when I crushed on older boys, so I tried to swallow the feeling. 

 All too soon, we were dumping the basin of water out and it was time to say goodnight. We were the only two still outside our tents, with the exception of Mr. Abbott who I could tell was keeping an eye on us from afar. 

 “Sure you wouldn’t like a sweet before bed?” Fred extended a hand filled with the same brightly wrapped candies as earlier, a goofy grin spread across his freckled face. 

 “Ginny warned me about you, I’m not eating anything unless I see you eat it first,” I teased. 

 “Alright then, better not,” I saw him wink at me in the darkness. 

 “I should, er, be getting to bed,” I stammered as I felt my pulse quicken. 

“Wouldn’t want you to be tired for the long Apparation home,” he chuckled. “Well it was nice to finally meet you Morris, hopefully I’ll see you around Hogwarts.” 

 Thankful for the darkness again, I managed a “ You too,” before turning and half running back to our tent.

 I laid in my bunk below Charlie and replayed the last several minutes in my head. He hoped to see me around Hogwarts. The butterflies in my stomach started doing cartwheels. I tried to calm myself. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. He was probably just being friendly. Whatever the reason was, I wasn’t sure. Although, I certainly hoped to see him around Hogwarts as well.

 What could have been minutes or hours later, I wasn’t sure which, I heard the shouting. First it was the faint voice of Mr. Weasley a few tents over, waking the boys. Then it was Mr. Abbott in our own tent, his mustache spread across his face from sleep. 

 “Girls! Get up now – something is wrong,” he called urgently, running around the tent. “Please, hurry. Get out of bed and get outside!” When none of us moved immediately he raised his voice another decibel and added, “NOW!” 

 I quickly scurried down from my bunk and grabbed the jacket I had thrown across the back of a chair earlier. I had begun to realize that something truly was very wrong, the sounds of the Irish celebrating through song and shouting had morphed into screams and feet pounding the ground as they ran past our tent. 

 Mr. Abbott, who had ducked back out of the tent, yelled in to us, “Arthur and I are going to help the ministry. Get into the woods with the Weasley lot and stay together!” 

 I could hear him running off as I exited the tent as well. People were running past from all directions and into the nearby wood. I turned my gaze in the direction of what they were running from. A large crowd of people was moving across the open field towards us, blasting tents and chairs out of their way. Drunken laughs and cheers drifted to my ears from the group, just as a brilliant green light lit up the area. I could see now that the crowd was not made up of regular world cup attendees in their team clothing. They were covered head to toe in thick black cloaks with pointed hoods. Bone-chilling, blank, white masks covered their faces. Trailing along above them through the air were four figures, being tossed around like ragdolls. As I looked more closely, I realized two of them were children. 

 The crowd grew as more and more wizards joined in the march, pointing up and laughing at the people floating through the air. I tore my gaze away from them, and frantically looked around for the Weasley’s. Harry and Ron were waiting outside Hermione and Ginny’s tent with Fred and George. 

“What the bloody hell is going on?” I cried as I ran over to them. 

“They’re muggles,” Ron gulped as he slowly raised an arm to point at the figures in the sky. Upon closer inspection, I realized that one of the people flipping through the air was none other than Mr. Roberts, the muggle campsite manager. Horror flooded me as I realized the other three must’ve been his wife and children. 

 Within seconds, Charlie, Hannah, Ginny and Hermione were standing with us taking in the horrifying scene. 

 “C’mon you lot, let’s move” yelled Fred, taking Ginny by the arm and beginning to run. I clamped onto Charlie’s left hand and Hannah’s right and began to pull them forward behind Ginny and the twins. Harry, Ron, and Hermione brought up the rear. 

 We entered the woods and I realized just how dark it had become. The ornate lanterns that had lit our way just hours ago had been extinguished, and what seemed like hundreds of people were all pressing forward in the blackness. I stumbled over tree roots, struggling to keep hold of my two friends. I couldn’t hear Fred and George anymore over the panicked chatter all around us and hoped we were still going in the right direction. 

 All at once, the crowd surged us forward and ripped Charlie and Hanna from my grip. I felt my body hurtling towards the ground and landed with a thump. A little over a year ago, 96 people were killed at Hillsborough Stadium when fans stampeded into the arena and crushed the people towards the front. My father had told me the most important thing when you trip in a crowd of panicked, moving people, is that you MUST get back up, or you risk being trampled. 

 I gathered my arms underneath me and shoved the ground away. At the same moment, a sturdy foot connected with my back and pushed me back down again. 

And then another. 

And another. 

No. 

I was starting to panic. Every time I tried to lift up off of the ground, another person stumbled across me and pushed me back down. 

 “Addison!” A familiar voice called from through the crowd of people. I tried to respond, but as soon as I opened my mouth, a shoe connected with the back of my head and my mouth filled with dirt. I was hyperventilating. I was going to die. 

“Addison!” The voice yelled again, but closer this time. Suddenly, a bright blue light shone in my face, pulsing from the tip of a wand. “Bloody hell.” 

Something, or someone, seized me under the arm and yanked me into a standing position. I coughed, sputtering and spraying dirt from my mouth. I bent in half, taking in deep gasping breaths, never letting go of the person that saved me. 

 “I thought—” I sputtered, “I thought I was going to die.” I managed between heaving gasps, “Thank you.” 

My savior lowered his wand and as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, I was able to see who it was. 

“Don’t mention it,” said Fred, catching his breath. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

I gave myself a once over. I would definitely be sore and bruised tomorrow, but I didn’t have any serious injuries. “No, I think I’m alright. Just shaken up a bit.”

 Before I knew what was happening, he had pulled me into a tight hug. I hesitated for only a moment before wrapping my arms around him too. He was stronger than I had imagined, for as skinny as he was. He was the Gryffindor house team Beater though, along with George, so I could see where the strength came from. 

 For the first time in the last several minutes, I felt safe enough to catch my breath. I pulled back from him just enough to look up at his face, not letting him go. 

“What the hell is happening, Fred?” I asked. 

“They’re Death Eaters,” he whispered, and I detected fear in his voice. 

“Death Eaters?” I was confused. 

“You Know Who’s supporters,” he replied, his eyes boring into mine, “from the last war.” 

My eyes widened and I stared at him in disbelief, “Wh- what? How—They—They’re supposed to be gone. He’s supposed to be gone.” 

“We need to move. Get you further away from the campsite,” he said, turning and pulling me in the other direction. The stream of people around us had slowed but not stopped, and we began weaving through them. 

Fred kept one of his hands clamped tightly around mine as led me through the darkness. Not the way a couple holds hands on an afternoon walk, the way two little kids hold hands during the blessing before supper. I didn’t mind though, the heat of his skin seared into mine. He slowed down and turned to help me over uneven forest floor or a jutting tree root, reaching out his other hand to guide me so I wouldn’t fall. 

 After a few minutes of wandering around in the darkness, Fred came to a sudden stop. I bumped into the back of him and grabbed at his shirt to steady myself. 

“I don’t know where the rest of our lot got off to,” he murmured, straining his eyes to scan the dark trees. “I hope George has Ginny, Dad’ll kill us if she’s got as much as a scratch.” 

“Were they together when you came back for me?” I asked gently. 

“I—I think so. They were all together, I just turned around and you weren’t behind the Abbott girls anymore. I didn’t think. I didn’t even tell anyone where I was going. I just knew I had to find you.” 

“Why?” I wondered aloud, more for myself than for him. 

“As soon as I realized what was going on, I knew this could get really dangerous for you and Hermione,” he sighed, and then groaned. “I really hope Ron and Harry have Granger.” 

 He sunk to the forest floor, resting lightly on a tangle of raised tree roots. I realized suddenly that Fred hadn’t rescued me in some frenzy of passion. He was scared the Death Eaters had found me. The same fear he was feeling for Hermione now. My heart sunk slightly, I knew this was too serious of a situation to dwell over this slight rejection. But it still stung. 

I lowered myself to sit a comfortable distance away from him. 

“I guess there’s no sense in stumbling around in the dark looking for the others,” I sighed. 

“I didn’t want to continue drawing attention with my wand. I shouldn’t have even been using it to look for you, but I hoped I wouldn’t be expelled for using Lumos during this mess,” he tried to laugh but it fell flat.

 The reality of what was happening around us began to set in. At an event this size, I would have liked to hope that there would be enough ministry officials to get the situation under control, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just a continuation of the terrible war that had ravaged our world. Would Fred and I even find the rest of the group? Would the Death Eaters find us? Had I said goodbye to my parents, just yesterday, for the last time? 

The woods had grown eerily silent around us. What had been such a bustling area only a few minutes ago had been overcome with a deadly calm. Surely everyone who could, had apparated away from the area as soon as they noticed something was wrong. We were too far from the campsite now to hear whether it was quiet there too. There was nothing to do but wait. 

 “Fred?” I whispered so quietly I was afraid he hadn’t heard me. 

“Yes?” he breathed after a moment. 

“I’m scared.” 

The tension that had been holding his body in an almost rigid upright position was immediately deflated. He slid across the root he was sitting on and settled an arm around my shoulder. I could tell that he so badly wanted to tell me that it was going to be okay, but he didn’t dare make any promises he couldn’t keep. He squeezed my shoulder awkwardly with his hand. I tried to remember the silly butterflies I had been feeling in my stomach when Fred caught my eye earlier but I couldn’t. It had been replaced with a horrible feeling of dread. 

My body started to tremble, the way it did whenever I became even slightly distressed. 

“Shhh,” he whispered, pulling me into his chest. I buried my face in his shoulder and felt a sob escape me. I didn’t want to die here. 

We sat like this silently for a few minutes, with me letting the occasional sob go. His thumb sped up the slow circles he was rubbing into my arm every time I did. It was almost humorous how the boy obsessed teenager inside of me should have been cartwheeling with excitement at Fred’s arms around me. Almost, but not quite. 

I was just getting ready to sit up and wipe my face when suddenly, a piercing green light filled the sky above the trees a little ways from us. I cowered into Fred’s shoulder and let out a small whimper, sure that the Death Eater’s had found us. He brought his other arm up and tightened it around me, staring bewilderedly up at the sky. 

The woods around us, which were evidently less deserted than I’d thought, erupted with screams of terror. Small groups like us that had been hiding under the cover of the trees, now visible in the soft green glow, scrambled backwards away from the new source of light. I forced myself to tear my gaze from them and towards the new figure in the sky. 

Unlike the last one, this was not a spell that held muggles captive. Instead, what looked like a giant skull made of thousands of individual illuminated emeralds hovered above the treetops. A great snake slithered from its open mouth. 

“Bloody hell,” Fred muttered under his breath. 

 “What? What is it?” I asked frantically, trying to twist myself from his grasp. He tightened his arms around me and held me in place. “Don’t speak,” I could hear pain in his voice, “please.” 

He silently pulled me backwards, into a crevice between two large trees, completely obstructing us from view. He had his back pressed up against the trunk of one tree, and settled me between his legs with my back to him, facing the second. 

 “If we make it out of this, my dad,” he hesitated, “no forget my dad, my mum is going to kill me. I can’t believe I lost Ginny and the others.” 

 This time it was my turn to want to assure him that everything would be okay, that we would find his family intact. I wanted to tell him that he had nothing to worry about. But I couldn’t lie. 

“What is that thing in the sky?” I turned and asked him pointedly. I immediately felt a rush of cold from how the action had separated our bodies. 

“It’s the Dark Mark, Addison.” 

I stared at him dumbly, waiting for his words to make sense. He sighed. 

“Sorry, right, you’re muggle born,” he sighed and ran a hand though his hair. “It’s You Know Who’s mark. He and his supporters used to cast it over their… their victims,” his voice cracked over the last word. “There was a time when everyone lived in fear of coming home to that floating above your front door. He’d take out entire families without blinking. Muggle-borns and blood traitors alike.” 

I’d only heard the term blood traitor once before. A horrible boy in the year below us, Draco Malfoy, had sneered it at Ginny once in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. She told me that it was a horribly derogatory term used by pure bloods for wizards who sympathize with or support the non-magical community or Muggle-borns. 

 It made sense now, why the remaining people hiding in the trees had reacted the way they did. It was all so confusing though, I thought the Dark Lord had been defeated when we were young. What were his supporters doing sending His mark into the sky thirteen years after the fact? 

Now both of us were too afraid to make a sound, but I leaned back silently away from the soft green glow, into Fred’s embrace again. He wrapped his arms around me as I pressed myself closer to him. Any sense of tension or awkwardness that had been between us hours earlier was long gone. We were just two scared kids, holding each other in the dark. 

 After some time, the wood had remained quiet and still, Fred suggested we try to go back to the tent and find the others. I wasn’t too excited about marching back to the scene of the crime, but I knew we couldn’t hide out here in the darkness for the entire night. 

 Fred offered me his hand, and we wound our way blindly through the trees back in the direction we’d came. If you hadn’t witnessed the scene here only a while ago, you might not know anything was wrong; the creatures of the night were scurrying both high and low. Crickets sang out into the darkness and owls hooted softly. I supposed that after the commotion was over, they felt they had no reason to continue hiding. If only I could feel the same way. 

 I was still trembling slightly when we broke through the edge of the wood back into the clearing. Various small crowds of people were grouped around whispering nervously. Most of them looked frightened, and were scanning the trees in all directions; as if looking for a lone family member or friend who had not yet appeared. 

 We weaved through the people, still silently connected by the palms of our hands. Now that we were out of the dark, the heat searing into my skin returned. I was thankful that Fred was trained straight forward so he couldn’t see the color rising to my cheeks. I wondered when he would drop my hand. 

 As we neared the area where we had been camped, I saw that our small group of tents was still standing. A few off to the sides, what would have been in the direct path of the masked dark wizards, were still smoldering. The silhouette of Charlie Weasley was visible sitting against the outside of their tent. Next to him were George and Ginny. 

 The three turned their heads to look at us as they heard us approach them. Fred released his grip on my hand, and I suddenly realized how tightly I was holding his. Heat rose into my cheeks as I quickly dropped his hand and cleared my throat. 

“Oi! Where in the bloody hell did you two get off to?” Charlie bellowed at us. 

“I fell,” I said meekly, “Fred came to look for me, but we couldn’t find any of the others.” 

“Are you hurt?” Ginny’s brow furrowed as she rose from her seat and came to wrap me in a hug. 

“She’s okay,” said Fred. He scowled and looked around, “Where are the others?” 

 “Harry, Ron, and Hermione got separated too,” Ginny said quietly. “Dad went to go look for them. Bill and Percy are still with the ministry.” 

 “Don’t worry, you lot. Harry and Ron have Granger with them,” chuckled George, “they’ll be fine.” 

I noticed now that we were all gathered closer, Charlie had a large rip down the front of his shirt, and it was spotted with blood, although it didn’t appear to be his own. Ginny and George both looked shaken, but George’s usual smile was starting to settle back onto his face. 

 “Charlie, what was all of that?” asked Fred, his smile yet to return. 

“Based on what I gathered before Dad sent me back to find everyone, the old Death Eaters just couldn’t resist having a bit of fun tonight after they’d had a few drinks. Dad reckons they wanted to remind us how many of them are still at large. They all Disapparated when they saw The Mark though. Guess that was more than they bargained for,” Charlie spat. 

“But if they Disapparated as soon as they saw it, you mean they didn’t conjure it?” Ginny whispered. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Charlie patted her back, “but the question is if they didn’t, who did?” 

“It appeared over top of the trees over there,” mused George. Then he turned to Fred and me, “You two didn’t see anything in there?” 

“No,” I insisted, “ It was much too dark.” 

“Or you two were just much too busy,” George laughed, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Shut it,” snapped Fred, turning away from me. Just before he did though, I thought I saw a bit of red flood his own cheeks. 

Suddenly, Mr. Abbott appeared back at our tent with a loud CRACK. Charlie and Hannah were clinging to both of his arms. 

“Addie!” Charlie half sighed with relief and half yelled. “I thought the worst had happened when we lost you. I’m so glad you’re alright.” She had let go of her father’s arm and was sprinting towards me. We collided with a mutual huff and I squeezed her hard. 

“Are you both alright? How’d you find your dad? Where did the others get off too?” My thoughts had drifted to Hermione. I know George thought she could hold her own, but against an entire horde of Death Eaters? 

“Arthur has the others,” interjected Mr. Abbott. “They’re sorting out a bit of a mess back in the woods, but they should be along any minute.” 

 The group shared a collective sigh of relief knowing that everyone had come away unharmed. “Are the rest of you alright here until Arthur and the others come back? I want to get back to Susan before she catches word of this. Don’t want her to worry unnecessarily, you know.” Said Mr. Abbott quickly. 

“We’ll be alright, Ted,” assured the red headed Charlie. “I’ll keep up with everyone until my dad gets back. You get the girls on home.” 

Mr. Abbott looked slightly relieved, but the panic never did leave his eyes, “Thanks Charlie. Tell your parents I’ll send an owl when we get home.” 

Charlie nodded and reached out and shook Mr. Abbott’s hand. Ginny quickly gave the three of us a tight hug, spending an extra moment squeezing me. 

“Make sure you write me. I need to know every detail,” she gripped my arms and bored her eyes into mine. I knew she meant with Fred, but I wasn’t sure there was much to tell. He seemed embarrassed to have even expended the energy to come find me when I fell. I smiled at her with assurance that I would tell her everything there was to know, even if it wasn’t a lot. 

 Mr. Abbott quickly herded Hannah, Charlie, and me away from the tent and beckoned for us to take his arms. With another earsplitting crack, and the sensation of forcing my entire body through a tube, we were off again into the night.

[puffwriter1998]

[puffwriter1998]

@durmsnet​ vs. @hogwartsschoolnet​ Quidditch Cup: Hogwarts Team tryout

“There!” Harry shouted, making Ron and Hedwig jump. “Straight ahead! Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle.

[puffwriter1998]

[puffwriter1998]

aesthetic: a witch in the highlands of scotland 

[puffwriter1998]

Lily Evans (1978)

taken by James Potter

[puffwriter1998]

Harry Potter in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Master List

Addison Morris is a Muggle-born who enters Hogwarts one year ahead of the Trio. After attending the world cup and becoming closer to the Weasley gang, she finds herself within a beautiful love story in the midst of a terrible war. Will adding new characters change Fred’s fate? Will Addison be able to reconcile the longing she feels for her new world with the heartache she feels for her old one?

Follow me on my journey to share a fun lighthearted story set within the Canon Harry Potter universe. Some dialog will be taken from the original works by JKR. I would like to be clear that I don’t own any of the characters or original ideas from Harry Potter books.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Fanfic dot net link

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch.3

Summary: Addison’s experience at the 422nd Quidditch World cup.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X OC (not really in this chapter)

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it. If you’ve been following along: thank you so much! I can’t wait to let the rest of this story unfold. I have so much written. Some dialog in this chapter comes from the original works.  

As the day wore on, the excitement amongst the ever-growing crowd of wizards around me multiplied. When the sun began to go down, it boiled over and all pretense of a muggle façade was dropped. Merchants for both teams were Apparating here and there, carrying armloads of hats with dancing shamrocks and red scarves with lions that really roared. Children flew through the rows on toy brooms that only rose a few feet off the ground. Surely the ministry would be modifying a few memories before it was all said and done. 

 The Weasley bunch left us a little early with Harry and Hermione in tow, to be able to make their way up to the Top Box to sit with the Minister of Magic and a few other top officials who organized the Cup. Harry looked about as excited as I felt, gazing around at the scene in wonder as they walked away through the crowd. 

It soon came time for us to head into the woods towards what I assumed would be a pretty large stadium. Mr. Abbott led Hannah, Charlie and me onto a trail that was magnificently lit with floating lanterns. The excitement of the thousands of people, all walking through the trees, was contagious. A smile had spread across my face from ear to ear and there was no chance of losing it. There were chants supporting both teams, laughter, and from a little further off, a lighthearted song in favor of the Irish. 

We walked like this for a few minutes before I began to be able to pick out glimpses of a gargantuan stadium through the trees ahead. As we grew closer, I got a sense of just how big it was. 

 “Mr. Abbot,” I called to him, a few feet ahead of me, “Just how many people does this stadium hold?” 

 “A hundred thousand!” he replied gleefully. 

 A hundred thousand. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that there were a hundred thousand magical people on the globe, let alone at one event. Magical communities were so few and far between in Britain, and there were so few students at Hogwarts, that I had assumed we had relatively small numbers. 

 The golden walls surrounding the field rose higher and higher in front of me as we approached. A stream of wizards narrowed into one of the nearest entrances in front of us. A ministry witch at the gate peered down at the tickets Mr. Abbott handed her. 

 “Not too bad, not too bad. Straight up the stairs, about halfway up, there’ll be someone there to show you to your seats,” she said and waved us through. 

 We began our climb upwards on the carpeted stairs amongst the tight crowd of people. People exited through doors at various levels and filed into the stands. About half way up the height of the stadium, Mr. Abbott said “Ah, here we are,” and led us through a doorway. He handed another Ministry worker our tickets, and we were pointed into a long row of folding seats.

 As we sat, I looked out over the field and marveled at the sight of a hundred thousand wizards all taking their seats around me. The entire stadium seemed to be bathed in a marvelous golden light. The field was a smooth green lake below us, and the stands rose like a fortress above us. We were seated about halfway up, and halfway between the towering golden goalposts. Beautiful gold script danced across a huge blackboard at the top of the stadium on the side across from us that flashed various advertisements for magical goods and services. 

 I was in absolute awe. I tried to remember why I ever felt guilty for loving this life, and I couldn’t. The scene in front of me was almost too good to be true. The excitement radiating through the stands was tangible. My cheeks were aching from smiling so widely, but I knew they’d be getting no relief anytime soon. 

 Before I knew it, the voice of Ludo Bagman was audible over the roaring of the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen… welcome!” The crowd exploded in response and Bagman waited for the noise level to go back down before continuing. “Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” 

 Flags of green and scarlet waved all around the stadium as fans clapped and cheered. The blackboard across the stadium was wiped clean of the golden advertisements and they were replaced with BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0. 

 “And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce…” Mr.Bagman’s voice shouted, “the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” 

 The Bulgaria side, an endless sea of scarlet, erupted in excitement. At that moment, a least a hundred beautiful women strutted out onto the field. 

 “Their mascots are women?” I leaned in and asked Charlie. 

 “They’re Veela! Look closer!” She shouted back over the deafening crowd. 

 I started to ask her what Veela were, but I was immediately distracted by the perfection of the creatures on the field. Charlie, was right, they definitely weren’t regular women. Their skin looked like porcelain that was reflected in a most beautiful moonlight. The platinum, white-gold hair that hung down their backs splayed out behind them like they were walking in front of a wind-machine. I had never seen such dazzling creatures. 

 And then they started to dance. They twisted their bodies and moved across the field as if their feet weren’t touching the ground. It was such a wonderful display of beauty that I couldn’t tear my eyes away. That was, until Charlie’s voice cut into the blissful emptiness that had overcome my mind. 

 “Dad? Dad, what’re you doing?” she asked. 

 “Huh?” Mr. Abbott had risen from his seat and looked like he was about to swan dive off the edge of the wall in front of him. He blinked like he had just woken up from an incredibly confusing dream. He cleared his throat, “Goodness, forgive me. Those Veela, they’re really something aren’t they?” 

 His face flushed red with embarrassment, but as I gazed around the stadium, it seems that he had no reason to. About every man in the stadium had risen from their seats and were in varying states of trying to climb down the rows in front of them to get to the field. The Veela dance came to an end, and all around me, people began to wake up the way Mr. Abbott did. 

 “And now,” Ludo roared over the crowd, “kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!” 

 As the words left his mouth, a great ball of gold and green light burst into the stadium. It did one full lap around the perimeter and then broke off into two smaller orbs and shot towards the goalposts on the ends. Then, just as suddenly as the balls of light had appeared, a magnificent rainbow arced down and connected the two. Hannah, Charlie, and I gazed in amazement, along with the rest of the crowd. 

 The rainbow faded and was replaced by a giant shimmering shamrock, that rose high into the sky and began doing laps over the stands. A beautiful golden rain seemed to be falling from beneath it as it flew. When it soared over us, I realized they were Galleons, the biggest and most valuable of the wizard currency. 

 “Goodness!” I exclaimed as I ducked out of the way of the heavy gold coins.

 “You won’t want to pick any of that up,” yelled Mr. Abbott to me over the girls’ heads. “That’s fools gold!” 

 “Fools gold?” I hollered back and squinted up at the shamrock. 

 “They’re leprechauns!” As soon as he said it, I realized that the entire shape was made up of hundreds and hundreds of tiny bearded men, all holding a small lamp of gold or green. Many people around the stadium were scrambling around, and it looked like a few fights had even broken out over the gold. 

 “It’ll disappear before the night is out,” said Charlie, “That’s why it’s fool’s gold, only a fool would think they’d rain down millions of real Galleons at the World Cup.” 

 The giant shamrock finished its parade, and the leprechauns put out their lanterns to drift down onto the opposite side of the field as the Veela. 

 Ludo Bagman then welcomed the Bulgarian and Irish players to the field, but my eyes never left Krum. His thick black hair shone in the golden light that I still hadn’t found the source of. He looked much too big to be able to control his broom with such precision. He didn’t even look nervous, he looked like the whole thing was beneath him. 

 The match began as flashes of scarlet and green raced around the field. Bagman tried to keep up with quaffle, but they played at such speed that he only had time to say the player’s names. “It’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!” 

 I had never seen such a display of skill and athleticism. The speed of the players was so great that my eyes were having trouble following them. Ireland scored three times within the first ten minutes of the match, and I could see why. They worked flawlessly as a unit, rather than individual players. It was simply amazing. 

 A while later, Ireland was pummeling Bulgaria. They were up 170 to 10, with no intention of going easy on the players in red. Krum had just had his nose smashed by taking a bludger square in the face. The official had been distracted by a Veela who had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom ablaze. Blood sprayed out from behind Krum has he flew through the air.

 Suddenly, Lynch, the Irish seeker had gone into a dive. It mimicked the Wronski Feint that Krum had used earlier in the game to get Lynch to crash into the field, but this dive had much more purpose to it. 

 “Look, Lynch is after the snitch!” I cried and pointed towards the streak of green rushing down at the field. Irish supporters, including the Abbotts screamed in support of their seeker. However, Krum was right behind him. Blood covered his face, and I wondered how he had any earthly idea what direction the snitch was in. He was catching up to Lynch though, every milisecond that passed gaining another few feet. As they drew level, they were hurtling towards the ground at an impossible speed, and I sensed a second crash coming. 

 I was at least partly right, as Lynch collided with the ground with a thud that I swore I could hear over the roaring crowd. A mob of vicious Veela, so different from the beautiful creatures they were when they took the field, surrounded Lynch and blocked him from view. 

 Krum rose slowly into the air, blood still pouring from his nose like a faucet someone forgot to turn off. The tiny golden snitch was clasped between his fingers in a raised fist. My eyes flashed up to the scoreboard and my heart dropped; BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170. 

 The Ireland supporters slowly began to realize what had happened and a deafening roar came from the green in the crowd. 

 “IRELAND WINS!” Exclaimed the voice of Ludo Bagman, obviously surprised by the sudden end to such an exciting match. “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”

 The Abbotts next to me began jumping up and down and cheering with the rest of the people dressed in green. 

 “Blimey!” yelled Charlie. “Wonder what he did that for?” 

 I knew exactly why Krum caught the snitch when the Bulgarians were 160 points behind. He saw that they were being destroyed by the Irish, and he wanted to end it himself, before it got any more messy. 

 “What a match, eh Addison?” called Mr. Abbott from over Charlie’s head, “bet you didn’t expect that one. That Krum is a wonder though, I’ll admit.” 

 I felt slightly deflated, a feeling that usually came to me after we lost our own quidditch match at school. I had really been hoping for Bulgaria to win, but seeing Krum beat Lynch to the snitch almost made up for it. 

 Suddenly it dawned on me that Fred and George had won their bet. Against all odds, Ireland had won, but Krum caught the snitch. They’d probably be rich after they got done with Bagman. A small grin spread across my face as I realized this is the outcome I should have preferred. 

 The Irish supporters were already beginning to celebrate as we made our way back down the purple carpeted stairs. I’d have to congratulate Fred and George on their win. I’m sure the high they were riding right then was on a whole different level than the rest of the fans. The joyous energy pouring from the sea of green in front of me was infectious. The night was still young, and I couldn’t help but have the feeling that the most exciting part of my world cup experience was yet to come.

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go CH. 2

Summary: Addison goes to stay with her friends, The Abbotts, and they make their way to the world cup to meet the Weasley gang.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X New Character

Word Count: 5.7K

A/N: I've been having so much fun writing this. Some dialog is borrowed from the original story.

Godric’s Hollow was a lovely little village that was made up of a humble square containing just a post office, a pub, and a church. A few muggle and magical dwellings alike surrounded the square, but there couldn’t have been too many people living there. As the Abbotts led me towards their house, we passed what appeared to be a war memorial in the center of the square. As we drew closer, it began to transform into statue of three people. A man with unkempt hair and eyeglasses, a woman with kind eyes and flowing hair, and an infant boy, perched atop the woman’s lap.

I paused to look at it, and the Abbott’s continued walking ahead. I knew this must be Harry Potter and his parents. James and Lilly potter had been killed here the night that He Who Must Not Be Named tried to kill little Harry. I’d heard the story many times before, but standing here so close to where it happened, broke my heart for the boy, who I now knew looked so much like his father, even more. 

“C’mon Addie!” Charlie called over her shoulder from a little ways ahead. I tore my gaze from the family, frozen in one last eternal moment together, and hurried to catch up; pulling my trunk behind me.

We strolled a little ways more until we reached the Abbott’s house. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t exactly grand either. It sat beside a wide garden, and had an even bigger yard surrounded by tall hedges. A few chickens pecked at the ground beside the front walk. As we approached, the front door swung open and Hannah, Charlie’s younger sister, bounded out to meet us. 

“Mum! Dad! I’d begun to worry you’d miss supper,” she called as she came. 

Hannah was about to enter her fourth year at Hogwarts, just one year younger than Charlie and I. The three of us were sorted into Hufflepuff when we first began Hogwarts, which is how I met Charlie. There are only a handful of girls in each year per house. It was inevitable that you would become close with those in which you lived and shared your classes with. I had also found that in general, the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors got on pretty well. Unless we were playing each other in quidditch, we usually cheered each other on. Most of the people I considered my friends were in these two houses. The Ravenclaws and the Slytherins tended to be more of our within school rivals. This was just the way things were. 

Hannah and I exchanged hugs and words of welcome in front of the house before Mr. and Mrs. Abbott ushered us inside for dinner. I had never been in a home that operated primarily off the use of magic, and it was mystical.

As we entered I saw what looked like an entire staff of invisible people preparing our dinner. Knives lifted themselves off counters and were chopping vegetables on cutting boards. A large pot on the stove was stirring itself as various spices rose from their wooden cupboards and shook themselves into it. The dishes in the sink were washing themselves, a soapy sponge circling around a plate as if a hand that we couldn’t see was holding it there. Other dishes flew from cupboards and took their place on a long dining table in a room off of the kitchen. I ducked as a pile of napkins arose from a drawer and flew past my head.

 I grinned to myself at the wonder of it all. Imagine being able to wave your wand and all your housework would be done. One day I would be able to prepare a meal with the flick of my wrist, or clean up a mess more quickly than it was made. Until I was seventeen however, it was strictly forbidden for me to use magic outside of school. They didn’t want untrained wizards running around drawing attention to the fact that an entire magical community existed and operated alongside the non-magical one. 

“This all must be so new for you,” said Mrs. Abbott as we sat around the table. “I remember when I visited a magical family for the first time.” 

“I guess I just never thought about using magic for all of these things,” I replied. “You were able to cook an entire meal without even being home.” 

“It all does seem a bit strange doesn’t it? It’s been a long time, but this was all very strange to me once too. And it will only ever get more impressive.” She chuckled. “Watch this.” 

She raised her wand and waved it a sweeping motion. Suddenly out of the kitchen floated several large platters with the most decadent array of food I had ever seen laid out for a family meal. There was a plate stacked full of porch chops, and a basin of soup containing an assortment of vegetables and what appeared to be lamb meat. Mounds of mashed potatoes were on another dish that was now settling on the table next to a heaping pile of sprouts. A spoon dove into a bowl of peas that bumped into a plate full of treacle tarts on its way down to the flat surface. 

My mouth hung slightly open as everything in front of us became still, “Wow.”

 Mr. Abbott chuckled lightly and began scooping servings of everything onto his plate. 

“This all looks amazing Mrs. Abbott, thank you,” I said as I began to do the same. 

“You’re very welcome my dear, but please, call me Susan,” she patted my arm. 

Dinner passed quickly and fairly quietly as we all stuffed ourselves with all of the wonderful things Mrs. Abbott had prepared for us by magic. We did learn, through a rather clumsy owl that crashed through the window in the middle of supper, that Hannah’s friend Hermione Granger, was staying with the Weasley family and would be attending the World Cup with them. This left Mr. Abbott with an extra ticket to the world cup, that he tried adamantly to get Mrs. Abbott to accept, to no avail. 

“No, no,” she insisted at the end of the meal, “I think I will be much more comfortable here. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” 

“But Sus-“ Mr. Abbott interjected. 

“Ted,” she said softly, “please don’t insist that I go camping for however long this match might go on. Even if it is with magic. Really, I’ll have a much better time hearing about it from all of you when you get back.” 

Mr. Abbott conceded. They sent the three of us immediately up to bed, saying that we’d need to be up well before dawn tomorrow to be on our way. Charlie, Hannah, and I climbed the stairs with full stomachs and heavy eyelids. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since I’d cried with my mother at home in the parlor, but it felt like a lifetime. That’s usually what happened when I made my way back into the magical world at the end of each summer. However, for a reason I couldn’t put my finger on, it made my heart a little bit heavier this time.

~

The next day, we had been roused from our beds in the early morning, and followed Mr. Abbott sleepily into the front yard. I had dressed in a plain muggle clothes at his instructions, and I chuckled to see him in nurses scrubs when he led us out the door. I wondered if Mrs. Abbott had tried to inform him that these were definitely not everyday muggle clothes, or if she had simply laughed to herself as I had when he’d dressed that morning. 

We loaded two small tents and a few days’ worth of clothes into backpacks that now hung off of our shoulders as we took ahold of Mr. Abbott’s arms. He warned the three of us to close our eyes again, and Apparated us to the site of the cup. The second time Apparating was not much more pleasant than the first, and I wondered how this could become someone’s preferred method of transportation, especially when flying on a broom was so exhilarating. 

We appeared on the edge of what seemed to be a deserted misty field in the middle of absolutely nowhere, with two sleepy-eyed wizards standing in front of us. “Good morning!” Mr. Abbott chimed to the pair. They had both, like Mr. Abbott, tried poorly to dress like muggles. One wore a tweed suit with rubber boots that came up over his thighs. The other wore a traditional Scottish kilt and a poncho. 

“Oh hello Ted,” yawned the one in the kilt, “Well rested are you?” 

“Went to bed nice and early last night,” replied Mr. Abbott, “Wanted the girls to be wide awake for the excitement today.” 

“We’ve been here all night, about time we got some sleep, I reckon. Here, let me find your campsite,” He unrolled a long piece of parchment and consulted it. “Ah, Abbott, here we are. Just a quarter mile’s walk in that direction, it’ll be the first field you’ll see. The site manager is a muggle called Mr. Roberts.” 

“Thanks, Basil,” said Mr. Abbott and he ushered us in the direction Basil had indicated before. 

As we walked through the tall, dew filled grass, Mr. Abbott explained that the Ministry of Magic had arranged for people to arrive at staggering times throughout the week leading up to the cup so as to not draw too much attention. This was a muggle campground that would be housing the thousands of world cup attendees. 

I clutched Charlie’s arm as we made our way blindly through the mist. I was starting to wonder if we had even been going in the right direction when a quaint stone cottage beside an iron gate began to appear out of the haze. Beyond the gate, I could just begin to make out what looked like hundreds of tents going up the hillside towards the dark wood of the trees on the other side. 

Mr. Abbott led us up the path to the small cottage and waved at a man standing in the doorway. 

“Hello!” He called happily. “We’re looking for er- Mr. Roberts?” 

“That’d be me. S’pose you’ve got tents booked too?” 

“Yes sir, it should be two. Under the name Abbott, we booked them a few days ago.”

“Aye,” said the man called Mr. Roberts, consulting his own list, “Your space is going to be up by the wood there. Next to an odd looking bunch called Weasley. D’you know them? Seems like everyone here this weekend knows each other. Odd. Never had more than a handful of pre-bookings at once, now we’ve got hundreds. All dressed strangely and acting funny. Just odd,” he seemed to have remembered we were obviously a part of whatever gathering was happening here. “You’ll be here just the one night?” 

“That’s right just one,” said Mr. Abbott uneasily. 

“So you’ll be paying now, then?” asked Mr. Roberts. 

“Oh er- yes- certainly,” stuttered Mr. Abbott. 

“Oh Mr. Abbott won’t you let me?” I interjected, knowing it would seem odd to this muggle when Mr. Abbott was unfamiliar with money that is clearly from his own country. “My father gave me mug- er- money before I left home.” 

Mr. Abbott started to protest, but clearly thought better of it because he sighed and nodded. I counted out the correct bills from the envelope that I’d had in the pocket of my jeans, and handed them to Mr. Roberts. 

He then handed us a map of the campsite and watched us suspiciously as we left the cottage and made our way through the gate. Littered throughout the field were tents that for the most part gave the impression of muggles camping there. Some however were obviously magical; huge grandiose tents, some with multiple stories, and even one with live peacocks strutting about the entrance. No wonder Mr. Robert’s thought we were a strange bunch. 

As we neared the edge of the woods at the top of the hill, Mr. Abbott caught sight of Mr. Weasley and called out to him. “Arthur! Hello there mate!” 

“Ted!” laughed Arthur, “So good to see you! Are you our neighbors for the night?” 

“It seems that way! Glad it worked out too, Hannah was hoping to see Hermione and Ginny.” 

“Right! Yes, Molly had told me our girls were friends at school. The kids are all off getting firewood and water to start on breakfast.” Mr. Weasley’s eyes finally settled on me, “Forgive me, Ted, this isn’t one of yours is it?” 

“Oh no, she isn’t mine. This is Addison Morris; she’s in Charlotte’s year at Hogwarts,” said Mr. Abbott. 

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Weasley,” I said politely and reached out to shake his hand. 

“Same to you my dear! Who are your parents? Anyone I would know?” He asked. 

“Oh, no sir. My parents are muggles,” I normally wouldn’t have been so confident in telling a stranger my lineage. There are some people in the wizarding community who view blood status as the most important identifier of a person. He Who Must Not Be Named operated under a philosophy that magical blood should be left pure. Muggle-borns like me were, in his eyes, an abomination. I had spent enough time around Ginny Weasley however, to know that Mr. Weasley did not think this way. He found muggles absolutely fascinating. 

“Oh!” cried Mr. Weasley in excitement, “How lovely! I work in the misuse of muggle artifacts department at the ministry, you know. The muggle way of life is just so interesting to me. Please tell me, Addison, what exactly is the function of-“ 

“Forgive me Arthur,” Mr. Abbott interrupted, “but maybe the girls and I should work on getting settled just a bit before you jump into that.” 

“Ah. Right, yes. My apologies. I do get a bit carried away,” he turned to Hannah and Charlie, “It’s lovely to see you girls as well.” 

They both echoed “You too Mr. Weasley,” as we began to unpack our backpacks. After Mr. Abbott looked around and saw no sign of the muggle Mr. Roberts, he waved his wand over the two piles of poles and canvas and transformed them into two modest tents; earning himself a sharp look from Mr. Weasley. However, neither of them really looked big enough to comfortably hold two people, so I wondered how we would all be able to sleep. 

My worries were quickly soothed though, for as soon as I stuck my head in the flap, I knew one of these tents could have easily slept all of us and then some. The inside looked a bit like a large one room cabin. Several oversized bunk beds lined the walls, while a table and a small kitchen sat off to one side. Across the room on the other side was a doorway to what appeared to be a washroom complete with a toilet and sink. The whole place was decorated like a cozy cottage that my grandmother could have lived in. I shouldn’t have been in awe, with how much wonder the wizarding world threw at me on a regular basis, but I was. 

“We haven’t used these in ages,” said Mr. Abbott as he entered the tent behind the girls, “It’s a little dusty and dated but I suppose it’ll do.” 

“It’s wonderful,” I said in amazement. 

We unpacked our few belongings and settled in our bunks to wait on breakfast. Mr. Abbott had said he’d try to go move Mr. Weasley along a bit. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Weasley had hoped to have a regular muggle camping trip, and Mr. Abbott kept cheating by using magic.

After as few minutes we were beginning to drift back to sleep on top of the covers of our temporary beds, when new voices and footsteps approached outside. 

“We’ve gotten the wood, Dad,” It was Ginny Weasley, “As long as I haven’t got any fake wands in here it should make a good fire.” 

“Dear sister,” said another voice that I knew to belong to one of the Weasley Twins, Fred or George, “why would we ever do something like that?” 

There was a chorus of laughter outside the tent, and I sat up on my bunk. Ginny was two years younger than me, only about to enter her third year at Hogwarts, but she was one of my closest friends. We’d met shortly after she began school, when a couple of older Slytherin boys had cornered me in an upstairs corridor, calling me Mudblood; a horrible word for muggle born people like me. A sentiment that echoed that of the terrible war that had ended barely 11 years prior. Ginny had been coming around the corner just as the word left the taller boy’s mouth. She’d shouted at them, and a rage, the likes of which I couldn’t imagine from an eleven year old girl, had emerged from her. After she was through giving them a piece of her mind, she’d taken me in her tiny little arms and let me cry. Then she had led me from the castle, down a narrow winding path, to the Hogwarts Game Keeper called Hagrid. Hagrid had sat and talked with us for hours and by the time we’d left, you’d have thought Ginny and I had been friends for years. 

I half-ran out of the tent and to the small circle where Mr. Abbott, Fred, George, and Ginny were sitting watching Mr. Weasley arrange the wood they’d brought into a pile to start a fire. 

“Addie!” Ginny jumped up off the large log she was sitting on and threw her arms around me.

“I’ve missed you,” I said, squeezing her hard, “How has your holiday been?” 

“Oh, you know, Mum and I stuck in a house full of men for weeks on end. Was yours alright?” said Ginny. 

“Just trapped in a house full of Muggles all summer. I’m sure you can imagine,” I said as I released her. 

“Actually, I can’t,” she laughed. “Were Charlie and Hannah in there with you? Why don’t you go get them. As soon as Ron, Harry and Hermione get back, Dad’s going to try to cook us breakfast. Not sure how that’ll go over though.” 

I stuck my head back in the tent and told the girls that Ginny was outside and Hermione would be returning soon. The two of them leapt out of bed as well and came outside to join everyone. Ginny had returned to her seat, but left space on her right for me to sit. The twins were sitting cross legged on the ground to the right of the log, and Mr. Abbott had made room for his daughters on an ornate wooden bench across from them. I suspected that he had used magic to erect this place to sit, and maybe even again to make it wide enough for three of them, something Mr. Weasley was obviously not willing to do. 

I settled in next to Ginny and watched Mr. Weasley open a book of matches that he must have acquired with a scenario like this in mind. On his first few attempts, he simply let the match fall out of his excited hands rather than strike hard enough to light them. Eventually he was able to get the match to light, but as soon as it was ablaze, Mr. Weasley would squeal with delight and proceed to drop it on the ground. 

“He’ll be at this for ages,” the twin closest to me, I wasn’t sure which it was, leaned in and whispered. 

“I could help…” I offered. 

“No, this’ll be a laugh I guarantee,” whispered the other twin, leaning around his brother. “I’m George by the way, I think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts.” 

“Don’t listen to him, I’m George,” interjected the first twin. My face burned red as I realized I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to tell them apart. I’d have to be sure I was careful not to use their names and look silly. They were both tall, with the burning red hair that was the trademark of a Weasley, and large curious brown eyes. Light freckles dotted their faces. In unbuttoned, long sleeve flannel shirts with white cotton t-shirts underneath, they were sort of handsome. I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d seen them plenty around school, they were the two trouble makers in the year above me. Argus Filch, the school caretaker, all but had their pictures up in prison style wanted posters outside his office. 

“Knock it off you two,” said Ginny. “Don’t mind them Addie, that one’s Fred,” she indicated the one sitting closest to me, “and that one’s George,” shifting her arm to point at the one who’d said he was George the first time. 

“Well I’m Addison Morris, you can just call me Addie though,” I said to them. 

“Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Fred, who I’d noted was in a deep green colored flannel while George’s was blue. “D’you want a sweet?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a fist full of brightly colored candies. 

“Fred!” Ginny reached across me and batted his hand away. “I thought Mum had you empty your pockets before we left The Burrow.” 

“That woman,” Fred grinned. 

“Yeah, she ought to know well enough by now that we’ve always got a trick or two up our sleeves,” said George with a wink. 

“Go on Morris,” Fred challenged, “try one.” 

“Take my advice,” Ginny said rolling her eyes, “Don’t eat anything if these two are offering it to you.” 

The twins laughed and Fred stowed the sweets back in his pocket. Mr. Weasley continued to try to get a fire lit for ages as we all sat and watched in amusement. Every few minutes I could feel Fred’s eyes on me but I refused to turn and meet them. I was a bit uncomfortable with male attention, after my first attempt at a dating had gone so poorly. In my third year, I’d developed a crush on Cedric Diggory. He was a handsome Hufflepuff who was now about to enter his sixth at Hogwarts. He was a very sweet boy, but quickly let me know that he thought I was a bit too young for him. At the time, I was mortified. My face turned a deep shade of scarlet every time I was in the same room a Cedric, my crush long gone by this point, but the embarrassment of the public rejection was something I couldn’t shake. 

Right before I got to the point where I was going to have to get up and find something to do to avoid his gaze, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked up carrying a kettle and a couple of saucepans full of water. 

“You’ve been ages,” called George as they approached the circle. 

“Met a few people,” said Ron, shaking out his own mop of red hair and setting the water down. “You not got that fire started yet?” 

“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” chuckled Fred, and all of our heads turned back to Mr. Weasley just in time to see him light yet another match and say “Oops!” as he dropped it in surprise. 

“Come here, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione rushed forward and began helping him properly construct and light the fire. 

Harry had finally gotten a chance to look around the small circle and noticed there were more people than when he left. He gave me a small smile and wave before turning to sit on the ground next to Hannah and Charlie. He knows Hannah a little bit better than he knows me, but I also wondered if Ginny sometimes made him a bit uncomfortable. It was no secret that Ginny had been immediately taken with Harry the first time she’d seen him, before she even attended Hogwarts. So far, it didn’t appear that Harry shared the same feelings.

Mr. Weasley and Hermione were finally able to get the fire lit, and all the proper greetings and introductions were exchanged. In the hour or so that it took the fire to get hot enough to cook over, Mr. Weasley gave all of us a rundown on the ministry officials that we saw passing through the area. I was brilliantly absorbed, having never heard so much about the workings of the magical government, so much so that I stopped noticing the glances at me that Fred stole. 

Just when Mr. Weasley and Mr. Abbott began cooking eggs and sausages over the blaze, three more people, who I assumed must be Weasleys as well, strolled out of the trees towards us. I recognized the youngest of the three, Percy, who had been Head Boy the previous year at Hogwarts. Ginny had told me in a letter over the Holidays that he’d began working at the ministry and was making everyone else miserable with his endless talk about cauldron bottom thickness or importation of faulty quills. 

The other two were older. One exceptionally tall, with his red hair swept back into a ponytail and an earring dangling from his ear. The other was shorter and stockier, much like Mr. Weasley, but his freckles covered so much of his face that he almost looked like he had a tan. I assumed this must be Bill and Charlie, Ginny’s eldest brothers who’d already left home. Seeing them all here in one place did make me feel bad for her, having six older brothers was sure to be a bit much under one roof. 

“Just Apparated, Dad,” called Percy as they grew closer. “Ah, excellent, lunch!” 

We tore into the food that Mr. Weasley had cooked surprisingly well considering he didn’t use any magic. I was scraping the last bit of egg off my plate, when Mr. Weasley stood suddenly and waved at a man walking towards us. “Aha! The man of the moment! Ludo!” 

The man called Ludo was dressed in full quidditch robes with a picture of a wasp plastered across his chest. I could imagine that once upon a time these robes had fit him well, but now they were stretched across a belly that surely hadn’t been there in his Quidditch playing days. 

“Ahoy there!” yelled Ludo excitedly. “Arthur, old man, what a day, eh? Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming… and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements…. Not much for me to do!” 

Percy lunged forward with his arm outstretched, obviously hoping to shake this man’s hand. He must’ve held an important position within the ministry. Mr. Weasley went around and introduced everyone in the circle to Ludo, ending with Mr. Abbott and me. However, I could tell Ludo had stopped listening as he did a slight double take when Mr. Weasley had rattled off Harry’s full name.

“Everyone,” Mr. Weasley ignored Ludo’s amazement at being face to face with The Boy Who Lived, “this is Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It’s thanks to him that we’ve got such good tickets kids-“

Mr. Bagman grinned and made a waving motion at the Weasley kids and Harry as if to say it had been no big deal. 

“Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? Ted?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and looking between the two men. He shook the pockets of his robes and I could hear the jingling of wizard money. “I’ve already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first – I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland’s front three are the strongest I’ve seen in years – and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.” 

“Oh.. go on then,” conceded Mr. Weasley, I wondered if only to shut him up. “Let’s see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?” 

“Just a Galleon?” Mr. Bagman looked slightly disappointed but recovered quickly, “Ted, d’you want to go in with him? Make it a bit more interesting?” 

Mr. Abbott looked a bit flustered but managed to say, “No, no, I’d better not. My wife would have my neck if she knew.” 

“Very well, very well.. any other takers?” Mr. Bagman looked around to the rest of us. 

“They’re a bit young to be gambling-“ stammered Mr. Weasley. 

“We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,” blurted Fred from the ground beside me as he and George quickly counted out their money, “that Ireland wins – but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.” 

I was shocked that the Weasley boys even had that kind of money, it wasn’t a secret that raising seven children had left the family without a lot of extra money. Ginny rolled her eyes but didn’t seem surprised. 

“Boys,” Mr. Weasley cautioned, “that’s all your savings… If your mother knew-“ 

But Mr. Bagman would hear nothing of it. The boys finished their transaction with the man and George tucked the slip of parchment he was given carefully into his pocket. For the sake of their poor Mum I hoped that Fred and George would win their bet. I didn’t want to see my team lose, but I didn’t want the boys to lose their life savings either. 

Turning back to Mr. Weasley, Mr. Bagman said cheerfully, “Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Barty’ll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.” 

“Mr. Crouch?” said Percy, whose ears had perked up at this new name. “He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…” 

“Anyone can speak Troll,” Fred scoffed from beside me. “All you have to do is point and grunt.” 

Before I could help myself, a loud giggle escaped my lips. I quickly clamped my hands over my mouth and felt blood rushing to my face. Percy threw a nasty look to Fred and me, but turned to stoke the fire angrily to bring the kettle to a boil. Fred grinned at me and I could have sworn I saw him wink before I turned away in embarrassment. 

A few moments later, as if he’d heard us talking about him, the man called Barty Crouch, whom Ginny had told me was Percy’s boss at the Ministry, had Apparated between the Weasley’s tents. He was an older man, who was tidy from head to toe. From the part of his hair, to his crisp suit and tie, all the way down to his polished black dress shoes. He could have passed for a muggle working at my father’s firm. Quite the opposite of Mr. Bagman. 

He began trying to gather Mr. Bagman for an urgent ministry matter, but was unable to complete his request before Percy had finished handing out cups of tea and turned to offer one to him. 

“Mr. Crouch!” squeaked Percy, bending into an awkward bow. “Would you like a cup of tea?” 

“Oh,” replied Mr. Crouch, looking slightly surprised to see him here. “Yes – thank you, Weatherby.” 

Fred and George choked on their own tea, Ginny nearly fell off her log, I spit my tea back into my cup, and Ron and Harry didn’t even attempt to hide their snickers. Percy sent another nasty glance, but this time extending it around the entire circle. A little pink in the ears, he turned and busied himself with the tea kettle. 

“I expect you’ll both be glad when this is all over?” Mr. Abbott asked, gesturing to the chaos that surrounded our small circle. Most of the wizards in attendance clearly were not as serious about blending in as Mr. Weasley and Mr. Crouch. Many of the surrounding families were struggling to keep their children in line, if not blatantly using magic themselves. 

Mr. Bagman however looked surprised. “Glad?! Don’t know when I’ve had more fun… Still, it’s not as though we haven’t got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?” 

Mr. Crouch cocked an eyebrow, “We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details—” 

“Oh details!” cried Mr. Bagman, waving Mr. Crouch away. “They’ve signed haven’t they? They’ve agreed, haven’t they? I bet you anything these kids’ll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it’s happening at Hogwarts—” 

I had only been half paying attention to what I assumed to be small talk about the ministry until Mr. Bagman said Hogwarts. What was happening at school? 

Mr. Crouch cut Mr. Bagman off and insisted that they must go and attend to the business that had brought the both of them to our campsite. They excused themselves, but not before Barty had the chance to call Percy “Weatherby” once more while thanking him for the tea. 

“What’s happening at Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley? Dad?” asked Hannah, as soon as the pair had left. 

“Yeah, what were they going on about?” called Ron from the ground near her. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” smiled Mr. Weasley. 

“It’s classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it,” interjected Percy smugly. “Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it.” 

“Oh shut up, Weatherby,” I muttered. Fred laughed from beside me and poked me in the ribs. “Good one, Morris,” he said softly enough that only I could hear. 

My stomach twisted into knots. Not the unpleasant kind that come the morning of a big exam or before your parents lecture you about the marks on your report card, but the kind you get before a big quidditch match or before the trip you’ve been looking forward to for half a year. The hopeless romantics of the world might have even called them butterflies. 

I tried to shake the feeling off, I was there to watch my favorite team play my favorite sport. I wasn’t here to develop another silly crush on someone older than me, something that was sure to end in my heartache. But sitting there, stealing glances at Fred from the corner of my eye and feeling him do the same, I feared it was already too late.

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch. 1

Summary: Addison receives an invitation from her friend Charlie Abbott to attend the world cup, and must convince her muggle parents to let her go.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley x New Character (NOT IN THIS CHAPTER)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I’ve been needing a creative outlet and this story has been sitting in my head for a while now. Just a fun new look on JKR’s original storyline. I’ve never written fanfic before, but I’ve been having so much fun writing that I thought I’d share. Just a heads up I expect this to be very long and in many many parts, so if you stick by me through this journey, thank you so much :)

My life had always been exceptionally ordinary. Ordinary parents, ordinary school, ordinary friends, ordinary cricket practice on the weekends. In an ordinary neighborhood on the outskirts of London, surrounded by ordinary neighbors, with ordinary lives. That was until the summer following my eleventh birthday; when I received a letter that opened my eyes to a reality much bigger and brighter than the only one I had ever known. My life had flipped upside down in a way that could only be described as magical. With every day that followed being filled with even more wonder than the one before.

As I stood next to my open bedroom window, absentmindedly stroking the owl that was perched atop the spell books on my desk, gripping a scrap of parchment, I was viciously reminded of that fact. I was a witch you see, born to two non-magic parents, muggles they’re called, and my life was now anything but ordinary. The letter I’d received had invited me to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I was now only weeks away from beginning my fifth year.

The owl hooted excitedly and I was drawn back to my modest bedroom. The open window had let the cool night time air fill the small space. I scanned the parchment again, trying to believe my eyes.

Addison!!!!

 My dad got tickets!! He surprised us just tonight at dinner. We are actually going to the World Cup, this Monday night!! Dad said Hannah and I can each bring a friend, and you know, of course I thought of you. Mum said if you want to come, she can call your parents on the telephone if you’ll send their number to us the regular way. She said she could try to look them up in a sort of directory book but that it had been quite some time since she’s used one. Send your reply and telephone number with Stella as soon as possible. 

 I can’t wait!

 -Charlie

I read the letter over twice more just to make sure it was real. Since I first began at Hogwarts, nearly four years ago, I had been instantly infatuated by the students dashing through the sky on their brooms, playing the popular wizard sport, quidditch. I had only struggled for a moment during my first flying lesson, and soon felt at home on a broom. After attending my first quidditch match, I became determined to earn a spot on my house team.

Now, I was being asked to attend the biggest quidditch match of the season. My favorite team, Bulgaria, would be taking on the Irish to compete to claim the title of the World Cup. Having only been able to read about professional quidditch matches in the wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet, that my friends sometimes sent me, I had no idea what to expect. My head was instantly filled with scenes of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, where I had spent so many afternoons training and perfecting my skills to be the best beater in my year. Surely, it would be more grandiose than the modest wooden stands, colorful house flags, and homemade banners held up by students, but I had never attended a large scale wizard gathering before.

I ripped a piece of my own parchment and began to scribble a reply, but thought better of it. No matter how accepting my parents tried to be of my new life, they may not appreciate finding out that their daughter was planning to attend an international sporting event through a telephone call with a stranger

“You wait right here,” I pointed at the jet black owl, who was now pruning her wing feathers. I scooted a glass of water from my bedside to sit in front of the bird whom I assumed was called Stella. She clicked her beak appreciatively and bowed her head to drink.

I turned and started past my bed and the Bulgaria poster in which Victor Krum literally flew across the front on his broom and pumped his fist enthusiastically. Krum was their seeker. A position I had always admired, yet never had the skillset for. To think that I might actually get to see him play with my own two eyes made my heart soar. I couldn’t much see the infatuation that other girls my age had with him. Sure, he was arguably the best seeker in the world, but I always thought he looked a bit plain. Pinned up next to Krum on the wall were a few other smaller moving photographs. My Hogwarts friends smiled back at me and waved in what seemed to be encouragement.

I made my way down the stairs and into the sitting room where my parents were. Their backs were to me, both sitting on the red and yellow striped sofa that always reminded me of a carton of French fries. They were engrossed in a news program that blared from the small speakers on the television set that the furniture was all oriented towards. A few photographs, the faces in these all stationary, of our family littered the walls and surfaces throughout the room. I felt a familiar twinge of guilt as I scanned them. Fewer and fewer photographs included me as they grew more recent. The few that did include me were from summer or winter holidays, or before my eleventh birthday. In most photographs, my mother, with her sweeping hair that reminded me of smooth honey dripping over her shoulders, and full innocent eyes; my father, his sharp pointed features and muddy brown mop on top of his head; and my younger brother, a perfect split between the two of them, honey colored hair distinctly chiseled features, smile back at you happily. They look like a complete family unit. Almost as if there is no room for me in their world anymore like there is no room for them in my new one.

“Mum? Dad?” I called, just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the television, “Can I talk to you both for a moment?”

My mother turned to look over my shoulder as my dad switched off the television, “Sure darling, what is it?” Her long hair was twisted up into a tight bun on top of her head.

I walked around the sofa, and carefully balanced myself on the arm of the loveseat that was adjacent to it.

“Charli- Er- Charlotte Abbott has just written to me. You know, one of my friends from my year at school,” I chewed on my lip, suddenly unsure of how this conversation would go. Would my parents be willing to send me trampling across the English countryside with a family they had never met, to watch a sport that they had no concept of. “Her parents have managed to get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. It’s this coming Monday, and she’s invited me to go with them.”

“And where is this World Cup to take place? At Wembley Stadium?” My father chuckled, but I detected a note of seriousness to his tone.

“Well no,” I paused, amused by the idea of the world’s largest gathering of magical people taking place right here in London, “I’m not actually sure where it’s going to take place. They don’t exactly want mug- non magic people stumbling upon it.”

“We’re just supposed to ship you off about the country with people we don’t know then?” My mother sat up and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that.”

“Charlotte’s mother is a muggle born- er- she came from a normal family, like me,” I cringed internally at my use of the world normal. I found my new life normal. However my parent’s idea of normalcy was far different from mine, and I wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible about me going. “She said she would phone you to make sure it was alright, if I’ll just send our telephone number to her through Owl Post.”

My father chuckled again, “And just how do we do that? The postman would laugh at us.”

“Charlotte’s sent an owl with her note. It’s up in my room.” I said, trying to say it as casually as I possibly could.

“An owl? In your room?” My mother croaked and leapt to her feet. Letting the wool blanket that had covered her lap fall to the floor. She had hated birds since the time on summer holiday in France when I was eight, when she’d lost a battle over her fish sandwich to a flock of no less than thirty seagulls.

“Estoria,” my dad said firmly. My mother’s head snapped towards him and for a moment anger flared behind her stark hazel eyes. As quickly as it came though, it was gone. She seemed to physically try to push the thought aside and sit back down on the sofa.

My dad had always been a little more excited about the idea that I had been born a witch than my mother. He tried to look past the bizarre nature of the things that I told him about the magical world, and see the excitement that I saw in it. My mother on the other hand feared what my new future meant. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her, but I didn’t see a future where they could be included in my world any more than the occasional holiday visit. If my father could read my mind, maybe he would be fearful too.

My father tore me from this thought and prompted me, “Tell us more about this Addison, we want to understand.”

“Well,” I started, “I don’t know a lot of the details. However, I can just send our phone number back with the owl upstairs, and I’m sure the Abbot’s would phone sometime tomorrow. They just live in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Well I think it’s safe to say,” my father looked cautiously at my mother, “that until we do have more details, we can say maybe. When your mother speaks with Mrs. Abbott tomorrow, then we can make a better decision. I know you’re rather fond of this er- Quidditch sport.” He tried to smile at me. My mother on the other hand looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Mum,” I spoke directly to her, “Mrs. Abbott was raised in a non-magical family. It will be easy to talk to her. You really don’t have anything to worry about.”

She contemplated this for a moment and then answered softly, “I’ll speak with her about it,” and after a moment more, “but that’s all that I’ll promise.”

I let out a small squeal, thanked them, and then left the two of them whispering to each other in the sitting room. I scrambled back up the stairs to my bedroom to write my reply to Charlie. In it I told her that I hoped her Mum had a plan for talking my muggle parents into letting me go off into the wizarding world before the term began at school.

When my Hogwarts letter had first arrived, accompanied by the magnificently white bearded headmaster in purple wizard’s robes, Albus Dumbledore, my mother had thought I was trying to play some kind of prank on them. Despite my insistence that I had never seen such a letter before and would have no ability to contact this person to pull such a prank, my mother almost shut the front door in his face. However, he peered over his half-moon spectacles just before my mother had had enough, winked at me, and pulled out his wand. After a few minor magical demonstrations, my parents, half scared out of their minds, allowed him to come in and present his case.

Following what seemed like hours of conversations that both included me and required my absence, my father seemed fairly convinced. After Professor Dumbledore left, my dad spent days convincing my mother that they should be proud to have a child who possesses such rare (by their standards) abilities. Once my father had it in his mind, that a school to help me focus and control my magical abilities would be the safest place for me, my mother didn’t stand a chance.

There were a few days where my mother wept. My father told me that she was grieving the future she had always envisioned for me, but I couldn’t understand why. To an eleven year old, finding out you’re a witch, on top of finding out you never have to take math again, is a reason to celebrate, not to mourn. Nonetheless, my parents loaded me into the car the following September 1st and dropped me off at Kings Cross Station. From that point forward there was no regular world and magical world; there was just my world, and theirs.

~

The following Sunday evening, I had my school trunk packed, my broomstick by the door, and was stashing my wand inside the soft lavender robes I had chosen for the occasion. Mrs. Abbott had phoned my mother the previous day and convinced her to not only let me attend the World Cup, but also stay in Diagon Alley with them until the start of term at Hogwarts. I’m still not quite sure how she did it, but I wondered if Mrs. Abbott had been a little more relatable than my mother had expected, because I heard them laughing and chatting on the phone for nearly two hours.

By the time they hung up, you’d think she was excited for a wizarding family of four to show up on her doorstep. The day of their arrival, she fussed about, straightening and then re-straightening everything from throw pillows to the portraits on the wall. She scrubbed our little white kitchen until the sun bounced through the large window over the sink and off of the grey tiled floor.

About a half hour before the Abbotts were set to arrive, my father called me into the parlor where he and my mother sat enjoying their afternoon tea. I sat on a small seat across the table from them. Mum was wearing her favorite floral summer dress and had her hair in a long braid down her back. Dad looked dashing, but no more so than a work day. He wore suits into the office during the week, but on the weekends he could usually be found in his usual jumper and slacks combo.

Mum sat her teacup back onto her saucer and pursed her lips. I looked between her and my father.

“What is it?” I wondered aloud.

“Well,” my mother began, and I detected a note of sadness in her voice. A stark contrast to the excitement I’d felt radiating from her that afternoon, “this is the first year we won’t be taking you to King’s Cross to catch your train. You’re fifteen now, and you’ve become quite the exceptional young woman.” Her voice caught on the last few words.

“I think what your Mum is trying to say,” my father interjected, sensing that my mother was on the edge of tears, “is that we want you to understand the great deal of trust we’re instilling in you to let you do this. We also wanted to go ahead and give you some money for you to exchange at the er- bank.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sealed envelope. “Now please, don’t go spending it all in one place. There’s a little extra in here for you to spend at the match. I won’t expect you’ll get a chance to exchange it beforehand, but please be sure to pay the Abbott’s back for anything they spend on you while you’re there, d’you understand?”

I stood and reached to take the envelope from him and he pulled me into a tight hug. After a moment, I felt my mother embrace me from the other side, and I pulled an arm loose from my father to wrap it around her. I could sense her silent tears as she kissed the top of my head. I wondered if she was mourning my would-have-been future again. I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving them two weeks earlier than usual. I wouldn’t see them or hear their voices again until the Christmas holiday. Tears began filling my own eyes.

“It’s alright Mum, I’ll write to you. The normal way, just like always,” I whispered as I turned to wrap both of my arms around her.

“It just isn’t fair!” She exclaimed, sobbing into my shoulder. “You’re never home! Sometimes it feels like I don’t even have a daughter anymore.”

I recoiled from her at the same time that my father hissed, “Estoria! We talked about this!”

“It isn’t right Felix!” My mother wailed, turning to leave the room, “I shouldn’t have to send my baby out into a world I know nothing about!”

I watched her go silently as tears slipped down my cheeks. My father turned to me with pleading eyes.

“Addison, please don’t be upset, you know how hard this is for her,” he said quietly. He crossed the few feet separating us and wrapped me into his arms again. My father always felt so strong. As a young girl, I ran to him when I was scared. The day I left for Hogwarts, I was bursting with excitement, but deep in the pit of my stomach was the incredible weight of fear. Fear of going out into the unknown. Fear of leaving the only family I had ever known for months. I had turned to my father, and tried to be strong, but when I saw their worried expressions, I immediately crumbled. My mother had been moments away from taking me home right then, but my father knelt down, wrapped me in one of his hugs, and I felt his strength flow into me.

“I am so proud of you,” he had whispered to me that day, but the memory blended with the present, and I realized he was repeating those words to me now.

“She’s right though,” I sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.”

My father pulled back and held me at arm’s length, “Addison Page Morris, you will always,” he emphasized the word, “belong here. You are my daughter. No matter what direction life takes you, you will always be able to call my house, home.”

I nodded quickly and wiped my face on the sleeve of my robe. Surely, the Abbotts would be arriving any moment, and I didn’t want any evidence of our meltdown to be visible.

“I’ll go talk to your mother,” he said, “you just make sure you’ve got everything and have your trunk down by the front door.”

I moved on what felt like autopilot as I struggled to bring my belongings down to the front door. As much as I wanted to be excited about the prospect of being at the world cup in less than twenty-four hours’ time, I couldn’t bring myself to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Perhaps I shouldn’t stay in Diagon Alley with the Abbotts until September first. It wasn’t too far away from home. I could have my parents pick me up in front of the Leaky Cauldron, the wizard pub that stood as the gateway to the wizarding area.

I paused at the top of the stairs with my broomstick in hand and sighed. I didn’t want to come spend additional time in this home that felt so foreign to me now. Besides, there was no telling how long the match would go on. I’d heard of World Cups in the past that lasted days, and they had to keep bringing in alternates to let the players sleep. I would just have to set aside the guilt that came with leaving my family. The same way I did every year, just a couple weeks early this time. This time tomorrow, when I would be surrounded by wizards and fellow quidditch fans, my guilt would be far away.

A few minutes later, my mother and father had roused my younger brother out of his room, despite protest. James always seemed less than impressed with anything that had to do with me or magic. At 12 years old now, James had failed to receive his Hogwarts letter last summer. I always thought he had convinced himself that if I was a witch, he must have magical abilities too. He tried not to show his disappointment as his eleventh summer came and went, but his immediate attitude change toward me in general indicated otherwise.

He hovered in the doorway as my parents and I sat in the parlor waiting for the Abbotts. I hadn’t considered how they would come to collect me until now. I amused myself by entertaining the idea for a split second that they might have access to a car. There were many modes of wizarding transportation, brooms, traveling by fire through the Floo Network, but cars were hardly one of them. The only time I had heard of a Wizard family having a car was when I learned that two third year boys, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had crashed a flying one into the Whomping Willow that resided on the school grounds after they’d missed the Hogwarts Express the previous year. You’d think that crashing a car into a decades old tree that could kill you with one swing would have warranted some kind of severe punishment, it didn’t. Harry Potter, sometimes better known as The Boy Who Lived, was something of an icon in the wizarding community. In the last war, that took place when I was a blissfully unaware muggle toddler, had abruptly ended when He Who Must Not Be Named had cast a curse at infant Potter that rebounded and seemed to kill the Dark Lord.

No one in the wizarding community dared speak his name, but I never quite understood it. Out of respect for my peers, the name never crossed my lips either, I was sure I couldn’t fathom the pain and destruction that accompanied his reign. Harry however had been launched into stardom. I watched the way whispers followed him in the corridors of the castle, and pitied him. I had heard from Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister that Harry had been raised by his muggle relatives, and was as new to this world as I was. I wondered if Harry ever felt like he didn’t quite belong in either world, like I did.

An earsplitting CRACK from just outside the front door interrupted my train of thought. Bringing me around to another mode of wizarding transportation, Apparition. When I first heard about people Apparating, my first thought was the teleportation I had seen in old sci-fi movies like Star Trek. Once a wizard took and passed their Apparition test, they could legally Apparate from any location almost instantaneously to another. I had never done it, but I had heard from the older students at Hogwarts that it was incredibly difficult and sometimes painful. If it was done incorrectly, you risked leaving bits of yourself behind in a horrible phenomenon called splinching. I never expected them to arrive this way, Charlie didn’t know how to Apparate, and surely they brought her with them.

The doorbell rang, and my mother’s excitement returned. She jumped up, smoothing her dress and straightening the sofa cushions she had just been sitting on. She crossed to the front door and wrenched it open with a huge smile on her face.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abbott! Hello, welcome to our home!” She beamed at them, and stood aside to let them in.

“Hello,” Mr. Abbott gripped my mother’s hand enthusiastically and pumped it up and down, “Please, call me Ted and this is my wife Susan. You must be Mrs. Morris. Your daughter is a spitting image of you.” Mr. Abbott was a short stout man with a mustache that seemed to take up a great portion of his face. It was grey, like his hair, and a smile protruded beneath it. His wife was several inches taller than he was, and wore a soft warm expression. I had a hard time imagining how they ended up together.

“Please, I’m Estoria and this is my husband Felix. We’re very pleased to meet you. Addison doesn’t bring people around to meet us very often.” She shot me a sideways glance and I felt the heat rise into my cheeks as I flushed a deep red. It wasn’t that I didn’t want my parents to meet the people in my life, I just couldn’t imagine a gaggle of wizards sitting around having tea in our parlor with my Muggle family.

Mr. and Mrs. Abbott filed in the front door, followed by Charlie. She grinned at me when our eyes met, and my rush of excitement had returned as well. Charlie was shorter than I was, and her blonde hair was pinned back neatly away from her face and cascaded down her shoulders. Her emerald green robes complimented the green eyes that Charlie and her younger sister Hannah had both inherited from their mother.

“Hey Addie,” she said to me as she rushed forward and hugged me. I hadn’t seen any of my friends since last June at the end of term. I squeezed her tightly, noting that she had gotten a bit taller over the summer holidays. “Ready to watch Bulgaria get annihilated tomorrow night?” She teased.

“You wish!” I giggled and shoved her away playfully.

“Charlotte, you didn’t mention Addison was a Bulgaria fan, we may have rescinded our invitation,” said Mr. Abbott through a chuckle.

My mother looked wildly uncomfortable with the talk of a sport she knew nothing about. Mrs. Abbott must have picked up on it because she leaned towards her and said, “Wizards and their quidditch huh? I’ve never really understood the appeal myself.” Her attempt to distance herself from the magical community for my mother’s sake must have worked, because she relaxed immediately and smiled.

“Men and children in general possess an affinity for sports that I will never understand,” said my mother.

“Please, won’t you all sit down?” Offered my father, whom I had just noticed keeping James from retreating back to his bedroom with an arm clamped around his shoulders.

“Oh that’s quite alright,” said Mr. Abbott, “we really are on a bit of a tight schedule and we’ve left our younger daughter at home alone. I just wanted to assure you we will take utmost care of your daughter and will make sure to see all the children off on their train in a couple of weeks.”

“But she hasn’t received her school letter yet,” my Mum suddenly remembered, probably scrambling for a last minute reason to keep me home, “How will we get it to her to buy her books?”

“I’ve already written to Minerva to tell her Addison will be attending the cup and staying the rest of the holiday with us. I am certain they will deliver her letter to us in Diagon Alley, not much gets by them at Hogwarts,” Mrs. Abbott assured her.

My mother looked slightly disappointed in the flaw in her plea to see me again before the term starts. Relief quickly overshadowed the disappointment as I knew she would always rather me be prepared for what’s ahead; wizarding school included.

“Well then,” she conceded, “I suppose you’re all set.” She reached over and squeezed my shoulder. I smiled excitedly at her, and pulled her into another hug. Our exchange of emotion filled words from just a bit ago was all but forgotten between the two of us. I loved my mother very much, and as much as it hurt me to see her so heartbroken by what I am, I would always feel at home in her arms.

“I’ll write to you both,” I promised both of my parents. Another round of hugs and goodbyes was necessary before we could finally make it out the door. On the front stoop with the door closed firmly behind the Abbotts and I, was when I remembered the loud crack that had accompanied the Abbott’s arrival.

“Are we Apparating?” I whispered nervously to Charlie out of the corner of my mouth.

She grinned and nodded, “Don’t worry, it’s sort of exhilarating.”

“But I don’t know how!” I insisted quietly, not wanting to look silly in front of her parents. Mr. Abbott must have heard me though, because he turned around and beamed at me from beneath his mustache.

“Don’t you worry my dear girl, you and Charlie are much too young to Apparate on your own. We will be taking you with us by sidealong Apparation!” Before I even had a chance to ask about this, Mrs. Abbott had seized my left arm and was telling me to close my eyes. I frantically looked around for Charlie and saw that Mr. Abbott was taking the same position on her right. She squeezed her eyes shut and I did the same, just in time.

I felt Mrs. Abbott twist away from me, only to clamp down harder on my arm. I felt like I had been submerged so deeply in the ocean that there was an intense pressure from all sides. The feeling was similar to what I would imagine squeezing my whole body through a small metal tube would be like. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs struggled against the squeezing grip that a fist seemed to have around them. Just as I thought my eardrums may burst from the pressure, everything was still and I gasped in lungfulls of air.

Mr. Abbott’s voice prompted me to open my eyes and realize we were no longer in London. We were standing in the warm afternoon sunshine in the square of a quaint little village that seemed worlds away from home.

“Welcome to Godric’s Hollow.”