Chapter 1
The first Quidditch match of the year happened on a rainy and miserable day. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.
Emmeline adjusted her cloak, silently cursing as she made her way toward the Quidditch pitch. She tried to focus on keeping her footing in the rain and keeping an eye out for her daughter, who had invited her to the game, but her mind kept drifting to the time she spent here in her years at Hogwarts.
As she approached the entrance, her mind was elsewhere, flying from her own tryouts to when she and James fought off Snape and his Death Eater friends. She shuddered at the thought but told herself it was because of the chill in the November air. She tried to push the thought of Rosier trying to cast the Cruciatus Curse on her from her mind, but she was unable to get her focus back in time to avoid stumbling into a young Gryffindor student.
“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to regain her balance.
“‘S alright ma’am,” the student said. “Nearly impossible to not slip in this weather, innit?”
Emmeline caught sight of the face of who she’d stumbled into and her breath caught in her throat. In front of her was blonde haired Gryffindor with plaits, but what stopped her was the girl’s face. She had light eyes with a twinkle of mischief in them and a smirk to match. Emmeline was painfully reminded of her deceased friend, Marlene McKinnon.
Emmeline hadn’t realized she’d been staring until the girl’s brow furrowed and she piped up, “You alright ma’am?” At which Emmeline snapped out of it. Shaking her head, she responded, “Yes, sorry. Yes, I’m alright, just- just the weather and all.”
The girl nodded sympathetically, “Aye tell me about it. I’m glad I’m not the one flying in this. Cheers.” And with that she continued walking into the stands, leaving Emmeline standing in the rain, staring at her as she left.
Emmeline ducked under the stands outside the entrance and tried to compose herself. It wouldn’t do her any good to spend the whole trip to Hogwarts today stuck in the past and seeing her friends in every student she laid eyes on. Her daughter needed her. Lucy needed her to be present. Emmeline was here as a supporting mother, not a student. She tried to remind herself that she had her time at Hogwarts and now it was Lucy’s turn. With a promise to herself that she could have a breakdown later when she was alone at home, she stood up straight, took a deep breath, and wandered into the stands, looking for her daughter.
It was a Gryffindor game, so that narrowed where she might find Lucy. She had mentioned in the letter that she would try to be near the hoops, so with that direction in mind, Emmeline shuffled along with the students toward the end of the pitch.
Luckily, Lucy found her first- no doubt helped by the scarcity of adults this far down. The student to alumnus ratio was never close.
“Mum!” cried a voice from a small throng of students. She looked over to see Lucy waving excitedly, her face sporting the Gryffindor house colors. Emmeline smiled and waved back as she made her way over.
“I’m so glad you could make it!” Lucy said as she got up to hug her mom as her friends scooted down to make room.
“Me too,” Emmeline smiled back, feeling a certain peace she hadn’t felt since she said goodbye to her daughter on the Hogwarts Express. With her daughter in her arms, she felt like she could breathe again. A weight she hadn’t realized was there was lifted. For the next few hours, she could just enjoy spending time with Lucy and hear about her time at school in person rather than just through the letters. She could live in the moment and take a break from life, not thinking about work or Sirius Black or any of the other things. Just her and Lucy.
Lucy pulled back, “These are my friends!” and Emmeline now looked past her daughter to see a few kids waving back at her.
“This is Colin Creevy- he’s a Gryffindor, one year older than me. Really into photography.” The boy smiled and held up his camera.
“This is Alison Denshaw- she’s also in Gryffindor, we’re roommates.” The dark haired girl next to Colin called down the row, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Emmeline smiled.
“And finally,” she turned to look at the row behind them, “the McKinnons!”
“The who now?” Emmeline heard herself say.
“Ah we’re not the Who- wish we were though, great band,” a voice joked.
Emmeline turned to face said voice and would later upon reflection, commend herself on her ability to have not fallen over when she saw the matching face. It was like looking into the past, and she was facing what could only be described as a young Sirius Black with a smile that looked more like Marlene’s.
“The McKinnons,” Lucy repeated. “Morgan and Skye.”
She now noticed the blonde girl from earlier was standing next to the boy. She raised her hand at the mention of her name, and her brother followed suit.
“I know you! We bumped into each other earlier. Nice to meet you Ms Hurst,” said Morgan, extending her hand.
“It’s Emmeline,” she shook the girl’s hand. “Please, call me Emmeline. Hurst was my ex husband’s name. I’m Emmeline Vance.”
“Nice to meet you Emmeline,” Morgan finished shaking her hand.
“Morgan’s the one I met in the hospital wing. I think I mentioned her in a letter,” Lucy said.
“Aye, right before saying you were worried about missing flying class. Dunno why you were worried when you’re a bleedin’ natural,” Morgan teased.
Lucy grinned, “Well my dad is a Nimbus salesman. I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”
“And yet you complained like you’d never ridden a broom and Madam Hooch was your only shot at seeing the sky. Can you believe that, Ms Vance?”
“Huh? Oh yes,” Emmeline pulled herself back to the conversation and out of her thoughts. These kids were clearly related to Marlene and Sirius, but how? They hadn’t any kids at the time of her death.
Conversation continued around her and she tried to be present, or at least look like she was, but she couldn’t really focus on what was being said, and before she knew it, the Quaffle was in the air and the game began.
“Very happy to not be in the air today,” Morgan commented.
Seeing an opening, Emmeline asked, “Do you play?”
“Recreationally,” she replied, eyes still trained on the players. “I cannae see shite in this rain, dunno how they’ll be able to see anything.” Remembering there was an adult within earshot, she glanced at Emmeline, “Sorry, forgive my potty mouth.”
Emmeline, who had barely noticed the swear, quickly responded, “Oh it’s no bother, I’ve heard them all. What position do you play?”
“Depends on who all is playing and what positions we need. Usually Chaser or Beater,” she nudged her brother. “This one is usually Beater or Keeper, but he doesn’t really play as often as we’d like him to- always got his head buried in a book.”
Skye rolled his eyes, “So sorry I’d rather read than spend all my free time playing a sport that’s dependent on which broom is the fastest.”
Lucy smirked and piped up, “Actually, different brooms are better for different positions, it’s not just about speed. For example-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Skye gave Lucy a playful push. “We get it Ms Nimbus. Heard you the first dozen times.”
“So,” Emmeline tried to steer the conversation in a direction that might provide her some answers, “McKinnon…is that Scottish?”
“Yep,” Skye replied, head also skyward as he tried to watch the game through all the rain.
“I think I went to school with a few McKinnons, did your parents go here?” She shifted tactics. She had to know where these kids came from and how they fit into all this.
“Aye, all our family did,” Morgan smiled, but there was perhaps something a little strained under that.
“Do you know-” but Emmeline was cut off as Lucy loudly pointed out that Harry Potter was now zooming after Cedric.
In the commotion, Lucy tugged her mother’s arm and whispered, “Stop asking them about their family, they were hit pretty badly during the war and don’t really like talking about it.”
But before Emmeline could respond, her focus, along with everyone else’s, was suddenly on the figure falling to the ground from a broomstick. Then there was an eerie silence. A surge of grief and panic came over Emmeline and the little bit of grey light that could be seen through the storm was blocked out by a shadowy swarm. Dementors.
She tried to look for Harry as she pulled Lucy into a hug, and was relieved to see that Dumbledore had slowed his fall and was making his way to the pitch. Torn between staying with Lucy and going to make sure Harry was alright but mostly frozen by the dementors’ effect, she tried to ground herself and think about Lucy, but even feeling her daughter alive and warm in her arms, it couldn’t stop her mind.
It had been many years since Emmeline had been close enough to a dementor to have this reaction. At the ministry, there were always few dementors, if any, and there were patronuses to ward them off. In the years since her last encounter, she had never forgotten the feeling they brought, but time had helped shield her from remembering the raw despair. She was alone. She was with Lucy. She was miscarrying in the toilets of Scotland. She was at a Quidditch match. She was hearing the Potters were dead. She was hearing her daughter’s panicked calls of “Mum!” because she had frozen. She was coming home to an empty home after Malfoy’s trial. She was being shaken by her daughter. “The bairn was a likely story”. “Ms Vance, are you alright?”
The next thing she knew- fully knew, all bits back in her brain, her mind in the present- was that she was being given chocolate by Madam Pomfrey.