14. And the House Cup Goes To...
Hope blinked against the brightness as her eyes fluttered open. The hospital wing came into focus—white sheets, the scent of antiseptic potions, and the distant clinking of vials. And a dull ache pulsed in her limbs
"Took you long enough."
She turned toward the voice, her gaze landing on George Weasley, who was grinning from his seat beside her bed.
"George?" Hope blinked, surprised, though a smile crept onto her lips. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," George said, stretching out his legs with an air of nonchalance, "until a moment ago, watching you sleep. Did you know you snore?" he added cheekily.
Her cheeks burned. "I do not!" she huffed, reaching out to swat his arm.
He laughed, dodging just enough to make it difficult for her to land a solid hit. "Oh, you absolutely do. It's quite the sound—like a baby hippogriff with a head cold."
"I do not," she mumbled again, arms crossing over her chest. "How do you even—wait." Her brow furrowed as the words finally caught up to her. "How did you know I was here?"
George's grin widened. "Oh, Hope," he said, shaking his head like she was hopelessly behind on the news. "The whole school is talking about how you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione saved Hogwarts!"
Hope's breath hitched. Her thoughts, still sluggish from sleep, suddenly sharpened into focus. Everything rushed back—the underground chambers, the trials, the looming threat of You-Know-Who. Her heart lurched.
"Harry, Ron, Hermione!" She pushed herself up, only to feel a sharp tug of exhaustion pull her back down. "Where are they? Are they okay? Did Harry—"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down, little Lupin," George said, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding. "Everyone's fine."
Hope let out a shaky breath.
"Harry's still knocked out," George admitted, nodding to the side, "but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be alright."
Following his gaze, Hope's eyes landed on Harry, lying a few beds away.
"How long have I been here?" she murmured.
"Since last night. You, Harry, and Ron." George leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the edge of her bed with an air of casual ease. "Madam Pomfrey said you three need all the rest you can get—no visitors allowed, not even Hermione."
Hope frowned. "Then how are you here?"
George smirked. "Ah, well, Fred and I have our ways." He sat up straighter, his expression turning theatrical. "We told Pomfrey we were sick with worry for Ickle-Ronniekins—put on quite the show. Tears, sniffles, the whole thing." He sniffed dramatically, dabbing at imaginary tears. "She didn't stand a chance."
A voice from nearby grumbled, "Funny how you've barely talked to me this whole time."
Hope peeked past George and spotted Ron, propped up in his own bed, absently munching on a chocolate frog. Fred was perched beside him, looking utterly relaxed.
A real smile tugged at her lips. "Hi, Ron."
Ron gave a tired grin. "Hi, Hope."
She turned her gaze to the other twin. "Hi, Fred."
Fred gave an exaggerated nod. "Hi, Hope."
George sighed, shaking his head. "You see that, Fred? Here I am, the devoted bedside companion, and she greets you so pleasently. No appreciation."
"Tragic," Fred agreed solemnly. "Truly tragic."
Hope rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest grew. Seeing that everything was okay, everyone was safe—was more comforting than she could put into words.
"That's quite enough, you two," Madam Pomfrey's voice rang through the ward as she strode George held up his hands in surrender, but his grin remained firmly in place. "Alright, alright, we're going."
Fred hopped off Ron's bed with a dramatic sigh.
"Sweet dreams, little Lupin." George smiled before moving to say bye to Ron. With a final wave, the twins sauntered toward the exit, whispering and chuckling between themselves.
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Later that night, Ron and Hope were released from the hospital wing, though Harry still hadn't woken up. The next day wandering the castle was a welcome change—students greeted them with smiles, pats on the back, and an energy that hadn't been there before. For once, they weren't being whispered about for all the wrong reasons.
The next day, Harry finally woke up. The moment they heard, Hope, Ron, and Hermione bolted to the hospital wing. It took some convincing on Harry's part, but Madam Pomfrey finally relented and let them in.
"Harry!" Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him but, seeing that he was still laid up in bed, she held back. "Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to—Dumbledore was so worried—"
"The whole school's talking about it," Hope added. "What really happened?"
For once, the truth was stranger than the rumors. Harry told them everything—Quirrell, the Mirror, the Stone, and Voldemort. Ron, Hope and Hermione were the perfect audience, gasping at all the right moments. When Harry described what had been under Quirrell's turban, Hermione shrieked, and Hope's jaw dropped.
"So the Stone's gone?" Ron asked at last. "Flamel's just gonna die?"
"That's what I said," Harry replied. "But Dumbledore thinks that—what was it?—'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"
"I always said he was off his rocker," Ron muttered, though he looked somewhat impressed by how mad his hero really was.
"So what happened to you three?" Harry asked.
"Well, I got back all right," Hermione said. "But I couldn't wake Hope—she was out cold—so I had to bring Ron round first. That took a while. Then together, we carried her out. That was... a bit of a challenge."
Ron nodded. "I nearly got hit with a Stunner more than once."
"Ron took Hope to Madam Pomfrey, and she made him stay a night as well for observation. And I was dashing up to the Owlery to contact Dumbledore when I ran into him in the Entrance Hall," Hermione went on. "He already knew. He just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and took off for the third floor."
"D'you think he meant for you to do it?" Ron asked. "Sending you your dad's Cloak and everything?"
"Well," Hermione huffed, "if he did—honestly—that's terrible. You could have been killed!"
"Right?" Hope muttered. "For a man that's practically all-powerful and all-knowing, you'd think he'd notice the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher working for You-Know-Who right under his nose."
Harry hesitated, looking between them. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he wanted to give me a chance. He seems to know pretty much everything that happens here. I reckon he had a good idea we'd try, and instead of stopping us, he just made sure we had enough to get through. I don't think it was an accident that he let me figure out how the Mirror worked. It's like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could..."
"Yeah, Dumbledore's barking, all right," Ron said proudly. "Anyway, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow."
"What's the point?" Hope grumbled. "The points are all in, and Slytherin won, of course. You missed the last Quidditch match—we got steamrolled by Ravenclaw without you."
"Yeah—but the food'll be good," Ron added with a shrug.
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over. "You've had nearly fifteen minutes—OUT," she ordered firmly, shooing them toward the door.
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The Great Hall was packed, decked out in Slytherin's green and silver to celebrate their seventh consecutive House Cup victory. A massive banner of the Slytherin serpent hung behind the High Table, dominating the room.
As Harry walked in, the hall fell suddenly silent before bursting into loud whispers. He quickly slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione, across from Hope at the Gryffindor table, trying to ignore the fact that people were openly staring. Thankfully, Dumbledore arrived moments later, and the chatter died down.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore announced cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's ramblings before we sink our teeth into this delicious feast. What a year it has been! I hope your heads are a little fuller than they were at the start... though you now have the whole summer ahead to empty them out again before next year begins."
A few students chuckled, but most sat in tense anticipation.
"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding, and the points stand as follows: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with two hundred and sixty-two points. In third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two. Ravenclaw holds four hundred and twenty-six, and Slytherin is in the lead with four hundred and seventy-two."
A storm of cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. Hope slumped in her seat as Draco Malfoy banged his goblet against the table, smirking smugly. It was a sickening sight.
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore said. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
The room fell eerily still. The Slytherins' smiles faltered.
"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I have a few last-minute points to award. Let's see... yes.
"First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."
Ron's face went scarlet, making him look like a radish with a bad case of sunburn.
"For the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers so loud they nearly rattled the enchanted ceiling. Over the noise, Percy could be heard proudly declaring, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
The applause eventually died down.
"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
Hermione buried her face in her arms, breaking out into tears, while her housemates erupted in another deafening cheer.
"Third—to Miss Hope Lupin," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling. "For impressive knowledge of Charms and, in a moment of danger, acting without hesitation to shield another, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
Hope flushed as her smile widened. The Gryffindor table erupted once more—Fred and George whooped, Lee Jordan cheered loudly, and Dean shook her shoulder excitedly while Lavender reached over to give her a high five.
"Fourth – to Mr. Harry Potter," Dumbledore went on.
The hall fell deathly silent.
"For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor sixty points."
The noise that followed was deafening. Those who could do quick math while screaming at the top of their lungs realized that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points—tying with Slytherin. If only Dumbledore had given just one more point...
Dumbledore raised his hand, and the hall slowly quieted.
"There are many kinds of courage," he said, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. Therefore, I award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
Someone standing outside might have thought an explosion had gone off inside the Great Hall. The Gryffindor table erupted in wild cheers. Hope, Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped to their feet, yelling and clapping as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of Gryffindors hugging him. He had never won so much as a single point before.
Still laughing, Harry nudged Ron and pointed at Malfoy, who looked as though he'd just been hit with a full-body Bind.
"Which means," Dumbledore called over the chaos—because even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were cheering at Slytherin's downfall—"we need a little change of decoration."
He clapped his hands.
In an instant, the green banners turned scarlet, silver transformed to gold, and the towering Slytherin serpent vanished, replaced by a massive Gryffindor lion.
Hope clapped harder, grinning at the sight of Snape shaking Professor McGonagall's hand with a horribly forced smile.
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With all the commotion, they had nearly forgotten that exam results were still to come—well, except for Hermione.
To Harry's great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks. Hope did fairly well too, which was no surprise. Hermione, of course, came top of the year. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions grade. They had hoped Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but unfortunately, he had passed as well.
"A shame," Ron said, shaking his head. "But, hey—you can't have everything in life."
And just like that, the year was coming to an end. Their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, and Neville's toad was finally found lurking in a corner of the toilets. Notes were handed out, warning students not to use magic over the summer.
"I always hope they'll forget to give us these," Fred Weasley said dramatically.
Hope laughed, earning a grin from him.
Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake. Before they knew it, they were boarding the Hogwarts Express, watching the castle shrink in the distance. They talked and laughed as the countryside became greener and tidier, snacking on Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans as they sped past Muggle towns. Soon enough, they were pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats, and before they knew it, the train pulled into King's Cross Station.
It took a while to get off the platform, as a wizened old guard by the ticket barrier let them through in twos and threes so they wouldn't all burst out of the wall at once and alarm the Muggles.
"You must come and stay this summer," Ron said. "All of you—I'll send you an owl."
"Thanks," Harry said. "I'll need something to look forward to."
People jostled them as they moved toward the gateway.
"Bye, Harry!"
"See you, Potter!"
"Still famous," Ron teased.
"Not where I'm going, I promise you," Harry muttered.
He, Hope, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together.
"There he is, Mum! There he is, look!"
Ginny Weasley stood nearby, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.
"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mum! I can see—"
"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."
Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at them. "Busy year?"
"Very," Harry said. "Thanks for the fudge and the jumper, Mrs. Weasley."
"Oh yes, I loved mine as well!" Hope chimed in.
"Oh, it was nothing, dear." Mrs. Weasley's gaze lingered on Hope with an expression she couldn't quite place.
"Ready, are you?"
Harry's uncle had arrived, purple-faced and moustached and looking furious at the sight of Harry carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood what Hope assumed to be his Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley, looking as if they wished they were anywhere else.
"You must be Harry's family!" Mrs. Weasley said kindly.
"In a manner of speaking," Uncle Vernon replied coldly. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He turned and stomped off.
Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione. "See you over the summer, then."
"Hope you have—er—a good holiday," Hermione said, glancing warily at Uncle Vernon. She still looked shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.
"Oh, I will," Harry said, grinning. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."
Hope smirked, ruffling his hair. "Glad to see I've rubbed off on you." She was glad to know he'd be up to some trouble—or at least, that's what his family would think.
As Harry walked off toward his relatives, Hope turned back to the Weasleys. She grinned at Ron. "I'll send you a letter."
Ron nodded. "Looking forward to it."
She turned to George, who gave her a wink. "See you soon, Little Lupin."
Rolling her eyes but smiling, she walked further down King's Cross with Hermione.
"You really must come visit this summer," Hermione said eagerly.
Hope's face lit up. "I'd love to! I've always wanted to see a Muggle house."
Catching sight of her father, she gave Hermione a quick wave before running up to Remus, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. He returned it just as firmly.
When they pulled apart, he gave her a knowing look. "It seems I have quite the troublemaker on my hands."
Hope gave him an innocent smile. "Well... if you knew Professor Snape, you'd know how much of a real git he can be."
Remus sighed, long and drawn out, though amusement flickered in his tired eyes. "Hope, you can't call any of your professors a git."
"Even if they are one?" She questioned.
He let out a soft chuckle. "Yes. Even if they are one. So..." He raised an eyebrow. "How was your first year?"
Hope's face brightened. "Amazing—better than I ever imagined."
His lips twitched. "And I trust that after your little prank, you didn't get into any more trouble?"
Hope let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck. "...About that."