A New Destiny

Hope can confidently say that she is bordering on happiness at Hogwarts. She spent half the day lounging with her friends and then the next part of it with Pandora and her two new Gryffindor companions, feeding thestrals. Hope can’t remember the last time she was truly content, full moon or not. Back home there was never any time to just be . There was no living in the present because everyone was so focused on surviving tomorrow. Her entire life in her world has been one big battle field but in this world, she’s allowed to relax for once without worrying about the next monstrous threat hurting the people she cares about.

She had still been stressing most of the day about the full moon and helping Remus but the knot in her stomach had loosened immensely after her relaxing day. It’s currently dinnertime and after, she’s going to have to find a way to sneak out of the dungeons for the full moon. The moon is set to rise at 8:46 and dinner finishes at 8:00. Hope is planning to excuse herself from dinner early, put the curtains around her bed to let Pandora know she’s asleep, then use her invisibility spell to sneak out of the castle and go to the shrieking shack which Remus graciously gave her directions to.

That was her plan until Remus walked over to the Slytherin table halfway through dinner to talk to her.

“Hope,” He greets and nods his head to her friends while awkwardly standing near the table with his hands in his front pockets. 

“Remus?” Hope questions, quirking a brow.

He glances around the table nervously before setting his eyes upon her again. “I uh, wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” Barty— can’t mind his business —Crouch asks.

Remus’ eyes widen in fear. He didn’t have a cover story in case her friends questioned anything. He never needed one but in hindsight, he is dealing with Slytherins. “Uhh I…we..um..I…uhh Hope?” He stumbles over his words.

Subtle , she thinks while glaring at the wolf.

The tribrid rolls her eyes and addresses Barty and the rest of her friends who are staring at Remus intently. It’s apparently very irregular for a Gryffindor to be anywhere near the Slytherin table Hope assumes. “Poppy wants us to arrange potion ingredients for her to use tomorrow. Her supply she ordered over the summer to prepare for the new year got delayed and with Quidditch season coming up, she needs all the healing potions she can whip up.” The lie flows out easily in a practiced manner. Guess it’s a good thing she’s had to lie her whole life about her identity. Practice really does make perfect , she thinks.

It seems to go over well but they still pay close attention to whatever is going to come out of the Gryffindor’s mouth.

“Yeah! That! Exactly! Umm I was going to head over there now with my mates. Do you want to come?” He desperately needs a remedial class on lying. 

“There’s no way she’s going anywhere with you lot.” Evan barks.

“Be nice Ev, he was only offering a kindness.” Pandora reasons.

“Nice my arse,” Barty grumbles.

Regulus has yet to participate in the conversation and has taken up sneering at the man clad in red and gold. 

“Guys calm down. I have to go anyway, Poppy will throw a fit if we don’t get this done tonight.”

“What right does she have to be angry if you don’t do it?” Barty argues. “It’s not like it's your job, you’re only volunteering.

“You’ve clearly never seen an irritated Pomfrey,” Remus mumbles, looking down.

“He’s right, I spent all summer with her and the one time I messed up a blood replenishing potion, she went on a twenty minute tangent about how ingredients are being handled carelessly and wasted by witches and wizards everywhere. And that quickly turned into a lecture about how our generation needs more discipline.” Hope shudders at the lecture she had to sit through. 

“That doesn’t beat the time I went in to see her, limping from a hip injury, and she spent the entire time I was there muttering about how idiotic and careless kids are these days. Even after I was somewhat healed she kept me through lunch to teach me basic lessons on responsibility.” Remus suddenly found his voice to air out his frustrations.

“Oof, yeah you definitely got the short stick there buddy.” Hope gazes sympathetically while getting up.

“You’re not leaving now are you?” Barty asks, looking slightly hurt.

“If I want to get this done before tomorrow then I probably should, B.”

“But you won’t get to hear the end of my story!” He looks upset and Hope’s heart swells a bit. He sounds like MG.

She makes the short distance to the other side of the table where Barty is sat and gives him a hug from the back. “I’m sorry B, but I would love to hear the rest of your awe-inspiring tale tomorrow during breakfast!”

He covers her arms with his hands, the only way to reciprocate the action in their position. “It’s alright, I suppose,” He smiles, feeling better. “I’ll save the good bits for then.”

“I can’t wait!” She lets go and smiles at him. “And I’ll see you all in the morning.”

“Hey, wait!” Evan protests. “Where’s my hug? That’s not fair!” Kaleb would say that.

Hope laughs before giving him a back hug which he hums into.

“Right then, you’re free to go.” He smiles, content. 

“You two want one? Or you think you can live without one until tomorrow?” Hope jokes.

Regulus glares at her but it doesn’t affect her in the slightest.

“I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” Pandora pipes up, smiling brightly at Hope.

“Of course, my love,” Hope announces affectionately before rushing back to her original side and kissing the girl’s cheek. She squeezes her shoulders and gives Regulus a quick back hug to which he openly protests with a scowl. Hope hadn’t forgotten her mission to help Regulus care and love more openly which started with friendly hugs.

“Bunch of saps,” is the last thing she hears Regulus say before walking off with Remus.

— — — — — — 

Hope is smiling brightly as the two make their way over to the other three Marauder’s.

“You Slytherins are weird,” She hears Remus mumble.

“How?” She asks in genuine confusion.

“To the rest of the school you lot are unfeeling snakes but with each other—from what I just witnessed—you’re more…” He trails off, not being able to find the right words.

“Human?” Hope offers.

He scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, human.”

Now, as she and Remus approached, James tilted his head, arms crossed. “Didn’t know you were so touchy, Mikaelson.” Referencing the affectionate display from before.

Hope shrugged. “Jealous, Potter?”

Sirius barked a laugh. “He’s very jealous, actually.” James shot him a glare, which Sirius ignored, grinning widely.

“Are we doing this or what?” Remus cut in, shifting uncomfortably. The full moon loomed over them—though it wasn’t visible yet, its pull was undeniable. He clutched the vial of wolfsbane potion in his hand, his grip tight. “We don’t have all night.”

Hope nodded, her expression serious. “Let’s go.”

The five of them slipped out of the castle, making their way toward the Shrieking Shack. Hope kept pace with Remus, glancing at him every so often. He was already looking pale, the transformation creeping up on him, but there was something else there—hesitation, fear.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured him.

He exhaled sharply. “You say that now.”

— — — 

The Shrieking Shack was colder than usual. The air smelled of damp wood and old magic, laced with something sharper—anticipation, maybe. The Marauders stood in their usual positions, but this time, there was an unfamiliar presence among them. Hope Mikaelson leaned casually against the far wall, arms crossed, but there was nothing relaxed about her. The lightheartedness from their walk over was gone, like it was never there. Her eyes flickered toward Remus as he downed his Wolfsbane potion, his hands shaking slightly around the vial.  

James, ever the worrier despite his cocky front, ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “So, how exactly is this supposed to work?”  

“I told you,” Hope said evenly, pushing off the wall. “Right now, Remus fights Moony every full moon. He treats his wolf like something separate from himself—something to be controlled instead of understood. That’s why the transformations are painful and why Moony is so… aggressive.”  

Sirius scoffed. “Sounds like you’ve been reading too many of McGonagall’s Transfiguration theories. It’s a bloody werewolf, Hope. They don’t exactly sit down for tea and a heart-to-heart.”  

Hope shot him a look that had even Sirius shutting up. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But werewolves aren’t mindless killers. Moony fights because Remus fights him. If we can change that, he’ll stop tearing himself apart every full moon.”  

Peter shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Remus, who sat on the old wooden floor, breathing deeply as the potion settled in. “And… what exactly do you want him to do?”  

Hope knelt in front of Remus, her voice softer now. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. “Don’t think about the pain. Don’t think about what’s coming. Just… listen.” The moon was at its beginning stages.

Remus hesitated, then obeyed. He had spent years dreading this moment—fighting it, caging it, refusing to let Moony be anything but a curse. But Hope spoke with a certainty he didn’t understand, and Merlin help him , he wanted to believe her.  

“Good,” Hope murmured. “Now reach for him. Not as an enemy. Not as a monster. Just… as part of you.”  

The room was silent except for Remus’s slow, steady breaths. At first, nothing happened. Then—something. A stirring in his chest, like the faintest whisper of a second heartbeat. A presence. Not violent, not angry—just waiting.  

Hope smiled slightly. “There. Do you feel him?”  

Remus swallowed. “I—I think so.”  

James, Sirius, and Peter exchanged wary glances but stayed quiet, watching.  

“Talk to him,” Hope pressed. “Ask him what he wants.”  

Remus inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into the floorboards. “He—he wants freedom.” His breath hitched. “He doesn’t understand why I keep locking him away. Why I hate him.”  

Hope nodded, her expression unreadable. “Because you do, don’t you?”  

Remus’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want to. But he hurts people.”  

Moony stirred at that, and the shift was immediate. The energy in the room thickened, darkened. Hope stiffened as Remus’s breathing turned ragged, his hands trembling. The Wolfsbane potion was meant to keep him subdued and help him retain the human part of him, but emotions—fear, anger, rejection—were stronger than any potion.  

And Moony had had enough.  

Remus let out a strangled gasp as his body jerked forward, his back arching unnaturally. His fingers curled into claws, his teeth lengthening. His golden eyes snapped open, but they weren’t his anymore.  

The boys were already moving, ready to transform at any moment.  

“Moony, easy, mate,” Sirius said carefully, but there was tension in his voice.  

Peter shrank back, prepared to turn into his animagus, as Moony let out a low, guttural snarl, his body caught in a half-transformation. The Wolfsbane was keeping him from fully shifting, but the wolf was still fighting, pushing against the restraints of Remus’s control.  

Hope stepped forward, placing herself between Moony and the others. “Remus,” she said, but her voice was different now—firmer, edged with command. “Stop fighting him. He’s reacting to your fear. You have to—”  

Moony lunged.  

The movement was too fast—too sudden. James barely had time to shout before Hope moved. She didn’t step back. She didn’t raise her wand.  

Instead, her eyes flashed a deep, luminous gold. 

The growl that ripped from her throat wasn’t human. It was low, resonant—powerful. A sound that demanded obedience.  She put up two fingers in a command to stand down.

Moony froze mid-motion.  

The violent tremors wracking Remus’s body stilled. His breathing, which had been ragged and shallow, slowed. His wolfish eyes locked onto Hope’s, and something shifted in them—recognition. Submission.  

Then, just like that, he collapsed to his knees. The beast pushed back and the man set free for the time being.

Sirius swore under his breath.  

James gaped at Hope. “What—what the bloody hell was that?”  

“How did you—?” Remus’ voice was barely a whisper as he slowly regained control.

Hope kept her gaze locked on him. “I’m technically an alpha,” she admitted. “I’m not his alpha, but the title still commands respect with werewolves in other packs.

Peter squeaked, scrambling to James’ side. “You could’ve mentioned that before.” He whispered, the fear evident in his voice.

She shrugged. “Didn’t seem relevant until now.”

Remus, still shaking, exhaled deeply. “It worked,” he said, almost in disbelief. “Not completely, but… I felt something.”

Hope nodded. “It’s a start.”

Sirius, still watching Remus carefully, reached out and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You alright, mate?”

Remus nodded slowly, his breathing evening out as he leaned into the touch—something in him anchoring to it, steadying.

Hope watched, a knowing glint in her eyes. She didn’t comment, but she saw the way Sirius’ presence calmed him in a way nothing else had.

James brushed off his robes and turned to Hope, giving her his most charming grin, despite everything. “That was brilliant. Have I mentioned how much I like brilliant girls?”

Hope rolled her eyes. “Potter, give it a rest.”

Sirius snorted. “Never gonna happen.”

James placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “What if I said you were the most stunning, fearsome alpha I’ve ever met?”

Hope smirked. “Then I’d say you have terrible taste.”

Sirius and Peter let out a laugh, and even Remus, exhausted as he was, managed a small smile. The night wasn’t over, and there was still a long way to go before Remus could fully accept Moony—but for the first time, there was hope.

— — — 

“The full moon isn’t technically over.” Hope reminds them.

“I can feel it.” Remus’ voice is pained.

“The pull?” He nods. Hope observes Sirius’ hand on Remus’ shoulder, who is clutching to it like a lifeline but Sirius doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I wanna try something.” She walks over to Remus’ kneeling form in the center of the room and pushes Sirius gently to the side. “Look at me.” She grabs his chin and forces their eyes to lock.

Her eyes turn gold again and he reacts in the same way upon seeing them. A low growl emits from her throat and the humanistic look in his eyes is replaced with an unnatural one. He becomes more animal than man. 

The three marauders step back and turn into their animagus forms in case something happens. Remus is on all fours and looking up at Hope—waiting. He looks ready to lunge at anything—whatever’s in sight—but Hope has him pinned by some mysterious force. 

“Turn.” She whispers, barely audible but the low snarl that escapes her tells him enough. He begins to protest, the human part of him trying to object. She growls deeply—forcibly—and he has no choice but to comply. He stares down, unable to suppress a whimper. 

Breathing deeply, his body begins to deform. There is no assertion of pain. Moony seems to be in complete control but Hope can feel Remus trying to fight his way out, afraid of what will happen. Hope puts a hand on his shoulder, making him look back up. “Trust me,” she says, her eyes flashing gold.

It’s enough to calm both parts of him. In one swift motion that has Hope tumbling back, Moony comes forth. His tall, 6 '4 length is a stark contrast from Remus’ 5’11 frame. He’s breathing heavily, eyes solely on Hope. His body is still like he’s waiting for a command. Maybe he is.

Prongs begins to step forward to Hope as a form of protection in case Moony becomes violent. The wolf catches the movement and growls before attempting to lunge at the stag.

“Stop!” Hope yells, trying to gain his attention. The wolf turns to her in consideration and huffs through his nose. “That is your friend, not your enemy.” Her voice is soothing but commanding where it needs to be.

Moony whines and gestures back to the stag. Hope holds out a hand which the wolf reluctantly grabs, his other three paws resting on the ground. She turns to James in his animal form and gestures for him to move aside. She looks over at Padfoot and beckons him instead. Moony begins to pull away—probably to attack—but Hope’s grip is insistent. 

Padfoot trots over, his face tilted in confusion. Hope addresses Moony. “Do you know him?”

He bares his teeth in protest. “You sure?” Hope presses. “You don’t recognize the scent?” Her tone is almost playful in a way one would speak to a child learning how to read.

Moony turns back to the black dog in front of him and seems to be considering something. He begins to sniff the air. A low whine leaves his throat and he makes a hesitant move towards the dog. Padfoot steps back in fear.

“Padfoot, let him.” Hope directs. The black dog turns to her with a fearful expression before conceding and watching the wolf in trepidation. 

Moony walks slowly towards him, letting his paw fall from Hope’s hand. He leans down, face to face with his friend turned animal and bares his teeth. Hope stiffens behind him, ready to interject at any moment. Padfoot is unmoving, his eyes trained solely on the wolf. 

After a moment that feels like eternity, Moony relaxes and instead of the fierceness that was once present in his gaze, there is only calm and curiosity. He whines and brushes his head against Padfoot, who flinches and fights the urge to recoil. 

The wolf is nuzzling into Padfoot and after a moment, the affection is returned with a low whine on Moony’s part. Hope breathes a sigh of relief and Wormtail and Prongs relax their stances from the earlier tension.

Hope eyes the opening in the ceiling where the moon shines on them, breathing in the only light into the shack. It's been about three hours since it rose. She approaches the wolf who is finding comfort in his mate—though they’re both oblivious to the fact—and leads him to the corner where he can curl up. They’re all going to need their rest.

She watches the four of them come together and take their places in a big cuddle pile of creatures—it's almost adorable. Hope takes this opportunity as they fall asleep to sneak out and wolf out herself in the woods. 

— — — — — — 

The moon was a sharp sliver in the sky, and the world was still.

Hope stepped out of the Shrieking Shack quietly, careful not to disturb the Marauders as they slept, their forms sprawled across the dusty floor. Remus, at least, seemed to have found some semblance of peace, his body finally calm in the aftermath of the transformation. The potion had worked better than she’d hoped, though Hope could tell there was much more to be done.

But tonight, she needed to be alone. She needed the forest.

A soft wind stirred the trees as she moved, her bare feet silent against the earth. The air felt charged—alive. As she ventured deeper into the woods, the sounds of the Shack faded, replaced by the rustling whispers of leaves and the faint hum of life all around her.

It was instinctual, this connection. Her bond with nature had always been there, deep within her. As a tribrid, she wasn’t just part witch or part vampire or part werewolf—she was something else entirely. Something ancient, something attuned to the pulse of the earth.

Everything around her spoke .

Not in words, not in a way that could be easily understood by any human, but in feelings. Emotions. Auras that hummed through her like a soft vibration under her skin. It was like walking through a symphony, each tree, each rock, each breeze adding its voice to a song only she could hear. The energy was alive, vibrant, and welcoming—waiting for her, for the witch who could speak to them, though not with her voice.

She closed her eyes and let the world flood into her. The trees seemed to sway gently in greeting, the deep thrum of their ancient souls calling to hers. The earth below her feet pulsed with a steady, grounding rhythm. She could feel the cool of the night air swirling around her like a caress, and the stars above twinkled with their own kind of quiet excitement.

Hope let out a soft sigh, feeling the forest embrace her completely. In this moment, she wasn’t just walking through the woods—she was becoming part of it. Her heartbeat synced with the pulse of the earth. She felt her senses sharpen, felt the rhythm of the world beneath her feet, like every blade of grass was a thread woven into the fabric of her being.

She closed her eyes and focused on that energy, letting it guide her. It wasn’t about words. The forest didn’t speak with language; it spoke with emotions, with intent. It didn’t need her to do anything but be there.

The trees seemed to lean in closer, the branches bending in a way that suggested curiosity. The wind swirled around her in playful spirals, tickling her hair and urging her to let go. She was more than just a part of nature—she was in tune with it. Every movement, every whisper of the leaves, every shift in the air, was an invitation to join with the earth’s pulse.

The wild energy of the night was like a drink of water after a long drought. She reveled in it, letting herself breathe it in fully, becoming one with the forest, with the moonlight, with everything around her.

For a moment, the forest felt like it was alive with an almost giddy excitement, as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for someone who could hear it, who could understand its quiet thoughts. Hope felt a sense of joy wash over her, a kind of contentment that resonated deep within her chest.

This was where she belonged.

— — — — — — 

The sky had shifted by the time she made her way back toward the Shack. The first light of dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon, but the forest still felt thick with life, and Hope didn’t want to leave it. However, she knew the boys would be waking soon—and she’d promised herself she’d be there.

— — — — — — 

“Where in Merlin’s name is she!?” 

“Calm down Prongs,” said Sirius.

“He’s right, she’s probably fine,” assured Remus.

“Or she’s dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Pete!” Exclaimed Sirius and Remus.

He shrugged, noncommittal, and nibbled on the sandwich he packed the night before. They all had woken up at first light—a habit they picked up over the years to make sure Remus gets to the hospital wing without anyone seeing him—to find Hope missing. There was no sign of her and James, in his predictable fashion, began freaking out.

“No, Pete’s right. What if she was attacked or something?” James runs his hands through his hair frantically while pacing back and forth. 

“What would possibly attack her, mate?” Sirius questioned and James geared towards him with the most ‘you’re an idiot with the IQ of a hippogriff’ look anyone's ever seen.

“What would attack her?” He repeats, punctuating each word. “Oh I don’t know, how about the numerous dangerous creatures living in the woods. We’ve got giant spiders, sparkly horses, invisible dead horses, and don’t even get me started on the giant, muscular, spear-wielding centaurs!” He yells at his friend, arms flailing every which way.

“Well when you put it like that…” Peter trails off.

Remus gets up with a sigh. “Fine. How about we help you look for her then?”

“Look for who?” Speak of the devil and she shall appear. 

“Hope!” James screams, making Remus wince. He runs over to her and just barely stops himself from throwing his arms around her and settles for clutching her shoulders. “Where have you been?” His voice is frantic. “I.. we ..were worried about you.”

Hope shrugs out of his grip. “Relax dude, after helping Remus I thought I’d go for a run. I’m still a werewolf, you know. One who actually likes turning.”

“Well why didn’t you tell us?” Sirius voices from his spot where he pulled Remus down to lay his head on his lap. “This one over here,” He gestures to James. “Had us going crazy.”

Hope turns back to James, whose cheeks are tinged pink, with a teasing smile. “Aww, were you worried about little ol’ me?” She says in her most southern belle accent. “I’m flattered.”

“I have a right to worry when one of my friends goes missing in the dead of night.” He huffs and crosses his arms, looking pointedly at the ground.

“I didn’t realize we were friends?”

“Well yeah. You’re helping Remus and he’s basically family so I just thought..or assumed that we..you know,” He becomes uncertain and Hope can’t help but think it’s adorable—the thought which she mentally slaps herself for.

“Alright, we can be friends.”

His eyes light up in excitement. “Really?”

“We’re gonna be seeing a lot more of each other so might as well, right?”

He nods frantically.

“Alright, not that this isn’t fun to watch, we should really get Remus to the hospital wing before the rest of the castle wakes up.” Peter points out. They all agree and make their way back.

Remus gets checked out by Madam Pomfrey who is pleasantly surprised by the lack of scratch marks and self-inflicted wounds. She gives him a pain relieving potion for the soreness and sends them all on their way. 

Hope says goodbye to them and starts on her way to the dungeons. Her house is going to be up soon and she needs to make it seem like she actually slept in her dorm. Before she can make it very far, James runs to catch up with her.

“Mikaelson,” He calls out. She turns just as he reaches her and comes to a halt.

“Yeah?”

He scratches the back of his neck anxiously. “I wanted to say thank you. For helping Remus. We know you don’t have to and you don’t have a responsibility to help him or anything no matter how much he needs it. I mean, we’ve all seen how much Remus has struggled since we found out and it’s killed us, knowing we couldn’t do more to help. So just the fact that you are, thank you.” His eyes exude gratitude and his voice is layered with sincerity.

Hope doesn’t know what to say. Ever since she met James Potter, he had been a confirmation of the rumors—loud, boisterous, egotistical, flirtatious, and reckless. The rumors also mentioned something about handsome and charming but she chose to ignore those. Right now, he was none of them—maybe a little handsome—she mentally curses herself for her train of thought. Right now, he was nervous, genuine, and being a good friend. Hope hadn’t expected this.

“Where I’m from—my pack—the werewolves value their loyalty and one thing they refuse to do is turn their backs on one of their own. I may not know Remus well but I’d never turn my back on someone I can help, especially another wolf. You don’t have to thank me, I’m only doing what’s right.” 

“I know but I still felt the need to express it. My mother did raise me with some manners.”

“Emphasis on the some , I take it.” He breathes out a small laugh and she smiles softly at him. They stand there for a few awkward moments before he breaks the silence.

“I wanted to ask,” He starts and looks at her, uncertain. “You said you’re an alpha?” She nods. “How is that possible? I mean, Remus has told me some things about other packs before from his research, but he always mentioned alphas being men—and I’m not trying to be sexist or anything,” He lets out quickly putting his arms up in defense. “But he said they were usually men and a lot older than you are. I mean, isn’t that a lot of responsibility? You’re still in school too so how are you leading an entire pack of werewolves?”

He did have a point. That was generally the stereotype for wolves and many packs didn’t mind living up to them. What threw her off was his genuine concern for her. Back home, she had way too much responsibility for a child but no one ever made much move to take the weight off or voice their concerns. The only times they did was when she did something they didn’t approve of. The most notable instances are every time Dr. Saltzman scolded her by reminding her she’s still her father’s daughter–and not in a good way.

Hearing a, somewhat, stranger be concerned was refreshing to say the least. And maybe there was more to James Potter than she wanted to see. She knows he has a crush on her but she’s also certain they can’t be anything more than friends. Maybe friends wouldn’t be so bad.

“It usually depends on the pack. Each one has their own system. For some, being an alpha is earned, usually through violence, but also through gaining loyalty and respect. And for others, the alpha status is inherited through bloodline.” She explains plainly.

“And which one is yours?”

“A bit of both honestly,” she shrugs. “My mother was an alpha–”

“Was?” He asks, his brows creased in question and concern and his voice low.

“Was.” She states. Her mind flashes to a similar conversation with Landon and her heart clenches. She’s been trying not to think of home.

James' face softens at the simple confirmation. He doesn’t press, though it’s clear the answer weighs on him. Instead, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, glancing down as if choosing his next words carefully. It’s a surprising look on him—hesitation.  

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and Hope doesn’t miss the sincerity lacing his voice. No flippant remarks, no jokes to cut the tension. Just… genuine .  

“Don’t be,” she replies, her tone even. “It happened a long time ago.” It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. It wasn’t the whole truth either—but what was she supposed to say? That her mother’s death, like everything else in her life, was complicated?  

James studies her for a moment, like he’s debating whether or not to ask more. But he doesn’t. Instead, he flashes her a softer, almost shy smile. “Well… for what it’s worth, she must’ve been pretty incredible if you’re anything like her.”  

The words catch her off guard. She doesn’t have a quick response for that, not when most people usually only see her as a walking reminder of her father’s legacy. The fact that James Potter, of all people, sees something else—it’s unsettling in a way she can’t quite place.  

“Thanks,” she murmurs, unsure how else to respond.  

The silence stretches again, but this time it doesn’t feel as awkward. If anything, it feels… comfortable. Like standing next to him isn’t something she has to brace herself for.  

James, apparently incapable of staying serious for too long, suddenly clears his throat and throws on a more familiar grin. “So… alpha bloodline, huh? That sounds intense.”  

“You have no idea,” she says, her lips twitching upward.  

“I mean, not to brag or anything,” he continues, shoving his hands into his pockets, “but if I were a werewolf, I’d probably be an alpha by now too.”  

Hope snorts. “Oh, definitely. Your pack would follow you purely for the hair alone.”  

James laughs—a real, warm laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I’m glad you get it. Honestly, it’s a burden being this charming.”  

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s exhausting,” she deadpans.  

“Terribly,” he agrees, still grinning. Then, a little more seriously, he adds, “But, uh… if you ever need help with anything—your pack stuff or the whole Remus thing—I’m around. I mean, obviously, I’m already incredibly helpful and charming, but, you know… in case you wanted more of that.”  

Hope tilts her head, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Is this your way of saying you want to be my second-in-command?”  

James gasps, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Only if there’s a cool title involved. Something like… Alpha Supreme. Or—wait, Alpha Extraordinaire.”  

“More like Beta Buffoon.”  

“That’s just rude, Mikaelson,” he says, though the sparkle in his eyes suggests he doesn’t mind at all. “But I’ll allow it. You’re lucky you’re cute.”  

She rolls her eyes but feels her stomach flip at his words. Friends , she reminds herself. Nothing more. “Well, Alpha Extraordinaire, shouldn’t you be off causing some sort of trouble with Black by now?”  

“Nah, he’s probably off flirting with the mirror again,” James says, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides…” He glances at her, voice softer. “I think I’d rather stick around here for a bit.”  

And there it is again—that unguarded honesty that throws her off balance. Hope should be used to people with smooth words and easy smiles, but there’s something about the way James says things that makes them feel… real .  

“Suit yourself,” she says, playing it cool despite the warmth rising to her cheeks.  

James just smiles, rocking back on his heels like he’s perfectly content to stay exactly where he is. “I always do.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your common room,” He offers and they fall in line quite comfortably. “So what exactly did you mean by ‘a bit of both’? How can you inherit being an alpha and earn it?

“Well–like I said–my mother was an alpha and our bloodline is basically werewolf royalty. Our line has existed longer than any other and in my pack, the name alone commands respect.” 

“Mikaelson?”

“Labonair,” she corrects. “My mother’s last name. When she died, the wolves turned to me but, for one reason or another, they didn’t exactly think I was fit to lead them.”

James frowns at that, his easy-going demeanor shifting into something sharper. “Why wouldn’t they think you were fit? You seem more than capable to me.”

Hope huffs out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, being capable didn’t really matter to them. I was young. Too young in their eyes. And—” She hesitates, debating how much to say, then sighs. “Let’s just say I have a complicated family legacy. Some of them thought I’d follow in… the wrong footsteps. My father wasn’t exactly the best person.”

James’ frown deepens at the use of “was” again in regards to her father but doesn’t push. “That’s rubbish.” His voice is firm, indignant, like he’s personally offended on her behalf. “Just because of your family? That’s not fair. You’re not them.”

The conviction in his words catches her off guard. There’s no hesitation, no doubt—just belief. And for a moment, Hope doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Try telling them that.”

James is quiet for a beat before he says, “So, what did you do?”

Hope lifts a shoulder in a shrug, her voice casual despite the weight behind her words. “I earned it. They doubted me, so I proved I was strong enough to lead. I didn’t really have a choice.”

A slow smile tugs at the corner of James’ mouth. “Of course you did.” He glances at her, warm admiration clear in his eyes. “You’re kind of brilliant, you know that?”

Hope raises an eyebrow. “You barely know me, Potter.”

“Maybe,” he concedes easily, “but I’m an excellent judge of character. And besides, I’ve got a good feeling about you, Mikaelson.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a flicker of warmth in her chest that she pointedly ignores. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

James grins but doesn’t deny it. “Only the terrifyingly cool ones who could probably break my arm.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“What can I say? I have a type.” He winks, and Hope lets out a reluctant laugh despite herself.

They walk in companionable silence for a few moments, the chill of the early morning air brushing against them as the castle looms closer.

“So,” James says, nudging her shoulder with his, “does that make you the queen of the werewolves or something? Should I be bowing?”

Hope snorts. “I wouldn’t say queen.”

“Well, what’s the proper term? Alpha Princess? Wolf Empress? Lady of the Lycans?”

She shakes her head, biting back a smile. “It’s just Alpha but I’ll take the royalty comparison.”

“Alright princess ,” he muses. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” he counters, tilting his head. “Is it always that serious? I mean—being an alpha. Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“It is,” she admits. “I didn’t ask for it, but it’s mine, so I deal with it.” She ignores the pang in her heart that reminds her she basically abandoned her pack with a fill-in alpha but it eases knowing the person she chose to lead them was honorable in the best ways.

James is quiet for a moment, his expression unusually thoughtful. “Well… for what it’s worth, you seem to be handling it pretty well.”

Hope glances at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. “Thanks,” she says, and this time, she means it.

They reach the entrance to the castle, and James hesitates, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “I meant what I said earlier, by the way. If you ever need someone to talk to—or if being an alpha gets overwhelming—I’m around. No pack loyalty required.”

Hope tilts her head, studying him carefully. “Why do you care?”

He flashes her a grin, but there’s something more genuine underneath it. “Because I like you, Mikaelson. And because everyone needs someone in their corner.”

She doesn’t respond right away, not sure what to make of the warmth that blooms in her chest at his words. But as she turns toward the stairs, she shoots him a glance over her shoulder. “See you around, Potter.”

James watches her disappear up the steps, his grin widening as he calls after her, “Call me James, princess.”

— — — — — — 

The Slytherin common room is dimly lit, the greenish glow from the underwater windows casting eerie patterns across the cold stone walls. Hope steps through the entrance quietly, her muscles aching from the night’s exertion, but there’s a lightness in her chest—maybe from the crisp morning air, maybe from James Potter’s easy smile lingering in her mind. She’s halfway to the girls’ dormitory when a voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re out late, Mikaelson.”

Hope freezes. She turns slowly toward the source, finding Regulus Black slouched in one of the single armchairs by the fireplace. He’s still wearing his uniform—tie slightly loosened, one leg draped over the other—and a book is balanced on his knee, though it doesn’t seem like he’s been reading it. His pale face is shadowed, but his sharp grey eyes glint with suspicion.

“Didn’t think anyone would be awake,” she says, keeping her voice casual.

Regulus closes his book with a soft thud , his gaze never leaving her. “Funny thing about insomnia—it doesn’t really care about your schedule.”

Hope exhales slowly, trying to keep her pulse steady. He’s observant. Too observant. And the last thing she needs is for him to start asking questions. “Couldn’t sleep either,” she says, moving toward the stairs.

“Right,” he drawls, voice laced with skepticism. “So you decided to take a casual stroll through the castle at—what?—five in the morning?”

Hope pauses mid-step and turns back. “It’s none of your business, Regulus.”

He tilts his head, studying her with that unnervingly cool expression. “See, the thing is—I know what it looks like when someone’s sneaking around. And you definitely are. So forgive me if I’m curious.”

“You’re always curious.”

“And you’re hiding something.” His tone sharpens, cutting through the air between them. “You show up out of nowhere, McGonagall’s little pet, and no one knows a damn thing about you. And now you’re creeping back into the common room at dawn?” He stands, slow and deliberate, his eyes narrowing. “What exactly are you up to, Mikaelson?”

Hope crosses her arms, forcing herself not to shrink beneath his scrutiny. “Why are you suddenly so cold, huh? I thought we were friends? Besides, I could ask you the same thing, you know. You’re not exactly the picture of innocence.”

His mouth curls into a humorless smile. “Touché. But aren’t friends supposed to be trusting ? And yet, here you are sneaking around. So tell me Hope , are we friends ?”

The words hang heavy between them, tension crackling like static in the air.

Hope could shut him down. She could walk away and let him stew in his suspicions—but she knows Regulus well enough by now to realize that silence will only make him push harder. Besides, she has been trying to get Regulus to open up and trust her since day one. But this was a level of emotional manipulation Hope can’t appreciate. 

She lets out a breath, dropping her arms to her sides. “Fine. You want the truth?” He stares expectantly. “Well you’re not gonna get it.”

Regulus blinks. Whatever he’d been expecting, it clearly wasn’t that. He was used to getting what he wanted and right now he wanted answers.

“What?”

“We are friends,” she says, her voice lower, sharper. “But friends are allowed to have secrets and it’s not like we’re exactly close yet, are we? I don’t know everything about you and you don’t get to know everything about me if cornering me is the way you’re going to go about it. Sorry for not trusting my new friends who I barely know and are this quick to harass me about where I’ve been.” Obvious sarcasm seeps into her tone.

For a moment, Regulus just stares at her, the usual arrogance draining from his face. He shifts on his feet, processing the information before straightening up again, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, colder. He leans in close, sizing her up. “Trust goes both ways. If you can’t give it then I have no reason to return it . ”

Hope’s blood runs cold, but she keeps her expression blank. “You’re right.”

“Well aware.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “But only one of us has been fighting for this so-called friendship,” she bites out, her anger rising after her long night. “You want my secrets, Black?” She whispers, her voice bordering on a threat. She squares up to look him in the eyes. “ Earn them .”

And with that, she disappears up the staircase, leaving Regulus alone with the flickering fire and regret pooling in his stomach.