Katie.

The bell above the door jingled as we walked into the shop, arms full of pastries, tea, and the promise of chaos.

Sage immediately tripped over a box of discounted joke wands near the threshold.

"Every time," she muttered, righting herself with a glare at the inanimate offender. "This place is booby-trapped."

"It's called charm," I said, brushing past her and into the warm, sunlit front of the shop.

That's when I saw them.

Fred and Adrien were already inside—standing way too close, grinning like idiots, lost in whatever slow-burn domestic moment they thought they were being subtle about. His hand was resting lightly on her hip. Hers curled in the front of his shirt.

"Oh my Godric," Maddie whispered, nudging me hard in the ribs. "They're already nauseating and it's not even nine."

Fred glanced up just as we reached the counter and smirked like he hadn't just been caught canoodling in the middle of the stockroom doorway.

"Morning, ladies," he said. "Try not to burn the place down while we're gone."

"We?" Sage asked, lifting a brow.

Adrien gave her the flattest look imaginable. "He's going home to shower, not eloping."

"Yet," Maddie added with a wink.

Fred kissed Adrien anyway—quick, but firm, hand still at her waist like he wasn't ready to let go.

"Try not to break any hearts while I'm gone," he murmured, just loud enough for us to hear.

Adrien rolled her eyes. "Only if you hurry back."

"Oh, barf," Sage muttered.

Fred grinned and slipped past us with a cheeky wave. "Don't miss me too much."

The second the door clicked shut behind him, all three of us turned on Adrien in unison.

"So," I said, dropping the pastries on the counter. "You two live here now? Or just part-time employees in love?"

Adrien, smug as hell, just took a bite of her pastry and said through a mouthful, "I said it."

"You what?" Sage yelped.

"Told you it was going to happen," Maddie added, already elbow-deep in the tea box.

"Start from the beginning," I said, pulling up a stool. "And don't leave anything out."

It was the kind of morning that practically begged to be slow. Sunlight poured through the front windows of the shop in buttery streaks, catching the glint of half-filled shelves and abandoned pricing tags. The kettle whistled lazily in the back. Adrien was positively glowing.

Like, unfair levels of glowing.

Adrien's smile turned wolfish. "Then...I said it."

Sage tossed her head back and let out the world's most dramatic sigh. "Who even are you?"

"Taken," Adrien said sweetly, tapping her tea mug against mine like a toast.

"Merlin's pants," I muttered, shaking my head. "You're one candlelit dinner away from planning a wedding registry."

"Only if Fred stops flirting with death every time he kisses me near a stack of fireworks," she deadpanned.

We all cackled.

"Okay, but how did you say it?" Maddie leaned forward, eyes wide. "Was it during—"

"No," Adrien said, raising a brow and taking a slow sip of tea. "Well. Not the first time."

"Oh my Godric, there was a second time?" Sage asked.

"She means third," I corrected, smirking. "At this rate, Fred's going to pass out from hearing it so many times."

Adrien shrugged, but the little gleam in her eye gave her away. "The amount of times it was said last night is irrelevant...He earned it."

"Gross," Maddie whispered gleefully.

"Tragic," Sage sighed.

"Iconic," I finished.

We were still giggling when Sage leaned too far back and nearly tipped off her stool. Adrien caught her by the back of the hoodie with a lazy hand, barely missing a beat.

"You're glowing, you know," I said, quieter now.

Adrien just shrugged like she didn't notice—or didn't care. But she did.

And then I saw it—Maddie's gaze flicking toward the window.

"Uh," she said, setting down her mug.

I turned, following her eyes.

Outside the window, across the street, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were in full lurk mode—huddled close, whispering urgently, and glancing repeatedly down the alleyway like they were tailing someone.

"Okay..." Sage said slowly. "Did we just walk into a bad Auror fanfic?"

"Someone's up to something," Adrien muttered, already abandoning her tea and edging toward the window. "And that something smells like Gryffindor recklessness."

Hermione gestured sharply—then all three darted forward, slipping down the corner of the street.

"Wait—" I squinted after them, narrowing my eyes. "Did they just turn into Knockturn Alley?"

"Oh, no," Maddie breathed. "That's never a good sign."

Adrien shot us a look. "The shop doesn't open for another hour."

I didn't need more than that.

"Field trip?" I asked, already grabbing my wand and stuffing it into my boot.

"Field trip," Sage confirmed, cracking her knuckles.

Maddie was at the door first. "We're totally gonna regret this, aren't we?"

"Absolutely," Adrien said. "But we're gonna look hot doing it."

We slipped into the street with silent purpose and caffeinated chaos in our veins, trailing the Golden Trio as they disappeared into the dark, twisting mouth of Knockturn Alley.

Something was happening.

And we weren't about to miss it.

We stayed half a block behind, ducking behind street vendors and oversized cauldrons as the Golden Trio slipped deeper into Knockturn Alley.

"Someone should've warned them," Maddie whispered, pressing against a crooked brick wall. "You can't wear that much Gryffindor energy in Knockturn and expect to go unnoticed."

Sage peeked around the corner. "I'd say the same for us, but Adrien's literally blending into that shadow like it's couture."

Adrien smirked. "Stealth is a lifestyle."

We edged closer, slipping behind an apothecary display just in time to see the Trio press their backs against the grimy window of Borgin and Burkes. Hermione fished something out of her bag, whispering urgently.

"Extendable Ears," Adrien murmured. "Of course."

"Should we try and listen too?" I asked, glancing over at her.

"I figured we'd need one of these," Sage smirked, pulling an Extendable Ear out of her bag that she had apparently swiped from the shop. "Thank me later."

We crouched lower, careful not to step on the busted cobblestones that would absolutely give us away. Sage handed me the trailing end of the magical string while Adrien looped the charmed wire toward the grimy window of Borgin and Burkes.

The second the thread settled, voices came through—clear as if we were standing inside.

"It's broken," Draco snapped. His voice was sharp, edged with frustration. "You said the damage could be reversed. I need it working. Properly."

My stomach dropped. We all froze.

"Did he—?" Adrien murmured.

Sage's eyes were wide, peering around the corner—squinting into the shop window. "Vanishing Cabinet."

My heart lurched. "As in the kind that connects to another one?"

"Yeah," Adrien muttered, brows furrowed. "And he's asking how to fix it."

Maddie blinked. "Draco Malfoy is trying to repair a Vanishing Cabinet? That doesn't sound suspicious at all."

From the other end of the string, we heard the low, greasy voice of Borgin—the shopkeeper.

"These things aren't easily repaired," he said, clearly uneasy. "The magic is delicate—tempered. Dangerous, if mishandled. You need alignment spells, synchronization... and even then, it might not take."

Draco didn't care. "Just tell me what it needs."

The silence between us was deafening.

"He knows what it does," Adrien said quietly. "And he's definitely not fixing it for a prank."

"He's planning something," I muttered. "Something big."

"And something dark," Sage added.

We lingered a beat too long it seemed, considering what followed.

Because the second Sage finished her sentence, the heavy door to Borgin and Burkes creaked open—and out walked Draco and Blaise.

Right into us.

Draco stopped short, his lip curling the moment his eyes met ours. "Well," he drawled, smooth as ever, but colder than before. "If it isn't the peanut gallery."

Blaise smirked beside him, eyes flicking over the four of us. "No Fred or Rowan? Do your bodyguards know you're out doing recon without permission?"

I raised a brow, voice sharp enough to cut. "We don't need protection to handle cowards."

"Could've fooled me," he said, gaze lingering on Adrien a little too long. "Especially with how you two attract chaos like it's a sport."

Adrien's smile was all teeth, no warmth. "Funny coming from the guys creeping around Knockturn Alley trying to fix war relics."

Draco's jaw ticked. "It's family business."

"Typical." Sage coughed, earning a grin from Maddie.

"That's your line for everything, isn't it?" I stepped forward until I was shoulder to shoulder with Adrien. "Family business. Easy excuse for screwing over the people who actually gave a damn about you."

His eyes snapped to mine. There it was—that familiar flash of hurt-turned-hostility.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" I kept my tone even, even when my chest tightened. "I know what it feels like to be lied to. To be left in the dark while someone played both sides until it suited them not to."

He didn't flinch. But Blaise shifted beside him, jaw tight.

"You chose your path," I said. "We chose ours. The only difference? We were honest about it."

Draco's voice dropped to a low snarl. "Is that what you think this is? Pretending?"

Adrien folded her arms, chin lifted. "You tell us. Because from where we're standing, you made your choice and just didn't have the spine to own it."

The silence hung thick, dragging tension through every breath.

Then Blaise chuckled—dry and sharp. "Let me guess. Rowan's been giving you pep talks?"

I didn't blink. "He didn't have to. You made your position pretty damn clear all on your own."

Draco scoffed. "We didn't pick a side."

"No," I said softly. "You just stood still while the rest of us bled."

His mouth opened—then closed.

For a second, I saw something flicker behind his eyes. Regret, maybe. Or guilt.

But just like always, it was gone before I could name it.

"You should leave," he said finally. "This alley doesn't take kindly to spies."

Adrien grinned, all steel. "Neither do we."

Blaise opened his mouth—probably to land one more jab—but Draco turned and walked away, coat flaring behind him like a curtain closing on something we'd all once believed in.

Blaise hesitated, eyes locking with mine, Adrien's for half a second—then followed.

And when they disappeared around the corner, I realized my hands were shaking.

But I didn't unclench them. Not yet.

The second we stepped through the door of the shop, I felt it—that sharp contrast between the chaos outside and the fake comfort inside. The smells were the same: sugar, smoke, and the faint whiff of a Firework Fizzbomb gone wrong. But everything else felt different.

Because we'd just heard Draco Malfoy, in Borgin and bloody Burkes, trying to repair a Vanishing Cabinet.

And it wasn't for a prank.

"Okay," Maddie said, stepping in behind us. "Top ten most stressful field trips. Ever."

"We didn't even get snacks," Sage added, dragging a hand through her hair and heading for the counter. "Next time I follow Potter into a sketchy alley, I expect snacks. Or a surviving sense of security. Something."

Adrien didn't say anything. She just walked straight to the front windows, ripped down the Closed sign, and flipped it to Open like we were just another group of teens running a joke shop and not four girls with a fresh side of war trauma.

"Is anyone else still hearing Draco's voice?" I asked, rubbing my arms. "Because it's replaying in my skull like a bad Wireless jingle."

"Just tell me what it needs," Adrien said quietly, echoing him, her face unreadable.

Yeah. That line was gonna haunt me for a while.

"I can't believe they were actually trying to fix it," Maddie muttered, grabbing a clipboard like it was a shield. "Like... no offense, but I thought Draco's idea of heavy lifting was emotional manipulation, not ancient artifact repair."

"He knew what it was," Sage added, her voice sharp. "He knew exactly what it did. And he didn't even blink."

I opened my mouth to respond—and then the front door jingled.

Too loud. Too normal.

I turned.

Fred Weasley strolled in first, carrying a paper bag like he'd just come back from a peaceful picnic and not walked directly into an emotional minefield. George followed with a pastry already half-eaten.

And behind them—of course—Rowan.

Smug. Sun-kissed. Rolled sleeves and bedhead like it was his signature. Two coffees in hand, smirk already locked and loaded.

"Delivery!" Fred announced, holding the bag above his head like a trophy. "Your favorite idiots have arrived!"

"Correction," George said through a mouthful of cinnamon roll, "your sexiest idiots."

"Debatable," Sage muttered, not even looking up.

"Accurate," Adrien replied, voice thin but steady.

Fred didn't hesitate. He beelined for her like they were mid-magnet. His hand brushed low on her back as he passed her a raspberry pastry. Adrien didn't flinch. She just took it, smirking like she might bite it—or him.

"You remembered," she said softly.

Fred's grin darkened into something feral. "You threatened to hex me if I didn't."

"And yet you still showed up. Brave."

He leaned in, voice low. "Or stupidly in love."

Adrien didn't blush. She smirked—slow and dangerous. "You'll have to narrow that down."

Meanwhile, Rowan had sauntered over, casually extending the second coffee, that was actually tea—because of course he remembered I don't drink coffee. "Still brooding, Blackwood?"

"Still existing, Woods?"

"I'm consistent."

"You're exhausting."

He grinned. "You missed me."

I took the tea anyway.

"You're welcome," he added, stepping back just far enough to be irritating.

I turned toward the stock wall, needing distance, needing something to do with my hands. I reached for a box of Extendable Ears. It slipped.

"Shit—!"

Rowan caught it one-handed, the smirk deepening. "You good?"

I blew my bangs out of my face. "Peachy."

His eyes raked over me, slower now. "You sure? You're twitchier than usual. And for you, that's saying something."

I opened my mouth to fire back—but Adrien beat me to it.

"Right. Time-out."

Fred blinked. "What?"

She snapped her cinnamon roll onto the counter. "Boys. Backroom. Now."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Did I flirt too hard again?"

"No," Adrien said, already moving. "But if I have to watch you undress me with your eyes while Rowan makes Katie short-circuit with a smirk, I'm going to end up setting the counter on fire."

George made a strangled laugh. "And to think, we brought breakfast."

"You brought distractions," Maddie said, not looking up from the ledger. "And possibly more emotional damage."

Sage saluted. "We've got the shop. Go spill."

I moved to follow Adrien, only for Rowan to fall into step beside me—again.

"You always this clumsy around attractive men?" he asked quietly, holding the door open.

I didn't answer. I just walked through.

But I definitely didn't miss his smile behind me.

And I definitely didn't miss the way Fred trailed in after Adrien like his entire day depended on being wherever she was.

We'd just come face-to-face with the war starting.

And somehow, it still felt like this—the shop, the boys, the heat crawling under my skin—was going to ruin me first.

The backroom door shut behind us with a soft click, sealing off the sounds of register chatter and enchanted joke products like we'd stepped into a different world.

The air was thicker back here. Still. Stale. Too quiet.

Adrien didn't say anything. She leaned against the supply shelf like it might hold her up, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor.

Fred noticed immediately. His smirk dropped.

"What happened?" he asked, no humor in his voice now.

Adrien didn't answer right away. Neither did I. None of us moved.

George glanced between us, brow furrowed. "Okay, I'm officially concerned. Nobody's cracked a joke in thirty seconds. That's a record."

Rowan, standing beside me, folded his arms. "Something happened before we came in this morning."

"No shit," Fred muttered. "Look at her face."

Adrien's jaw twitched. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his—and said, "We followed them."

Fred's eyebrows lifted. "Followed who?"

"The Golden Trio—Harry, Ron, Hermione..." I said quietly. "We saw them outside. Watching something. Then they bolted—straight into Knockturn Alley."

George blinked. "They what?"

"So we did too," Adrien added, like that was just an average decision. "We tailed them. Quiet. Careful."

Rowan frowned. "You didn't owl us?"

"There wasn't time," I snapped. "And we had Maddie and Sage. It wasn't like we went alone."

"You did go alone," Fred cut in, voice tight. "You went without us."

Adrien's posture stiffened. "We're not helpless."

"I didn't say you were helpless," Fred said, stepping forward. "But we've been over this shit before, Adrien. You don't just go into Knockturn Alley without backup—especially not after everything."

"I had backup."

"You had two friends and a wand." His tone sharpened. "You didn't have me."

There it was.

Adrien flinched, just slightly. Then straightened, chin high. "I'm not yours to babysit."

Fred ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "That's not what this is and you bloody know it."

"She had me," I cut in, voice hard. "And she had Maddie. And Sage. And if we had waited—if we'd wasted even a minute—we would've missed it."

"Missed what?" Rowan asked.

Adrien looked at him. Then at Fred. Her voice dropped.

"Draco."

Fred stilled.

"And Blaise," I added. "They were inside Borgin and Burkes."

George's face darkened. "No way."

"We heard them," Adrien said. "They were talking to Borgin about repairing something. Something big. Something dangerous."

"The Vanishing Cabinet," I said. "They're trying to fix it."

The silence that followed hit like a Stunner.

Fred was the first to speak. "And you're sure."

"He said it out loud," Adrien muttered. "He was frustrated. Pissed. Told Borgin he needed it working."

George swore under his breath. "Shite."

"And then," I added, "they walked out."

Fred's head snapped toward me. "They what?"

Adrien pushed off the shelf, folding her arms again. "Walked out. Right into us."

Fred stepped forward, eyes locked on her. "And you didn't immediately get the hell out of there?"

"We didn't have time," Adrien said. "They saw us."

Fred's jaw clenched so hard I thought his molars might crack.

"Oh, good," he said, voice low. "Your ex saw you lurking in Knockturn Alley. That's excellent. That's fantastic. That's exactly the kind of danger I was hoping you'd dive headfirst into without telling anyone."

Adrien's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare—"

"What, Adrien?" Fred cut in, voice rising. "Don't dare care that you keep putting yourself in the line of fire without so much as a bloody heads up? Don't dare be pissed that the guy who hurt you twice now knows you're snooping around dark magic shops without protection?"

"I don't need protecting," she snapped.

Fred stepped closer. "You need to stop pretending you're unbreakable."

That silenced the room.

Adrien swallowed hard, but her voice was steady. "I'm not pretending. I just don't have the luxury of falling apart."

Neither of them moved.

The tension between them crackled—heat and fear, stubbornness and love wrapped up into one tangled mess.

Rowan cleared his throat. "Okay. So... we're all mad. And scared. And kind of emotionally volatile. Great. Now what?"

I turned to him, grateful for the shift. "Now we figure out what to do with this information."

"We report it," Adrien said immediately.

"To who?" George asked. "McGonagall's at Hogwarts, Dumbledore's MIA, and the Ministry—"

"Arthur," I said, cutting in. "Mr. Weasley. He'll listen. He'll know what to do."

Fred nodded, jaw still tight but eyes clearer. "Yeah. He's been keeping tabs on the Order's movements. If anyone can loop this in without causing a panic, it's him."

Adrien leaned back against the wall, finally letting out a long breath. "We wait until tonight. After shop hours. One of us slips a note to him through the Floo."

George scratched his head. "You're sure about this? I mean... if you're right about the Vanishing Cabinet—"

"We are," Adrien and I said in unison.

Fred looked at her. Then at me. His shoulders dropped.

"Okay," he said. "Then we handle it. But next time?" He pointed at Adrien. "You loop me in. Even if it's stupid. Even if you think it's nothing."

She didn't say anything. Just nodded once. Small. But real.

Rowan looked at me and muttered, "Glad I missed the field trip."

"You didn't miss much," I muttered back. "Just a brush with the coming apocalypse."

"Cool. Normal Tuesday."

Adrien turned toward the door. "Let's get back to the shop."

George gave a mock salute. "Back to work. Back to pretending we don't know the world's on fire."

Fred caught Adrien's hand before she stepped out, just for a second. Just long enough for her to squeeze his fingers.

And I followed them out, Rowan brushing my arm on the way through.

I didn't flinch.

But I didn't breathe until the door swung shut behind us.

"I swear to Merlin," Rowan said as he leaned casually against the shelf next to me, "if I get poked by one more rogue Nose-Biting Teacup, I'm hexing George and making him test every single one on his actual nose."

I snorted, flicking a Skiving Snackbox into the bin behind the register. "You're all bark. No hex."

"I'll have you know," he said, stepping closer, "my bark is very intimidating."

"Right. You're terrifying," I deadpanned.

Rowan gave me a slow once-over, eyes flicking down and back up. "Well. You said it."

I choked on a laugh. "Did you just call me terrifying?"

"Not out loud," he said. "Wouldn't want to bruise your modesty."

Before I could roll my eyes again, he gently bumped his shoulder against mine. "You're smiling."

"No, I'm not."

"You are. It's okay. I won't tell anyone you like me."

"Not like we don't already know..." muttered Adrien as Maddie and Sage exchanged snorts, earning my glare for half a second with Rowan chuckling beside me.

I looked up at him, unimpressed. "You're lucky you're cute."

He grinned. "That's literally all I've got going for me. Well—cute and deeply heroic instincts."

From the back corner, Adrien let out a groan, waving a clipboard like it had personally offended her. "Fredrick Gideon Weasley, what the hell is this?"

Fred, still behind her, arms draped comfortably over her shoulders, leaned down with zero remorse. "A masterpiece of modern inventory strategy."

"It's a crime against logic," she muttered. "You wrote 'probably cursed' under product notes and your math is just... a doodle of a duck wearing a hat?"

Fred grinned. "It's a good hat."

Adrien flipped to the next page. "Oh, excellent. This page just says 'George knows where the cursed ones are.' That's it."

"I like to delegate."

She elbowed him lightly. "You're lucky I love you."

"I am lucky," he said, kissing the top of her head. "But mostly because you haven't strangled me with that clipboard yet."

She smirked. "It's still on the table."

While they bicker-flirted in their usual language of mild insults and intense eye contact, Rowan nudged my side.

"You ever think they'd be less dysfunctional without the sexual tension?" he asked under his breath.

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? It's the only reason they haven't burned this shop down."

He laughed softly. "Fair. But I'm still better looking."

I side-eyed him. "At what point do you stop being charming and start being a full-time problem?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Rowan said, leaning in with a grin. "I am the problem."

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where to shove that when the front door jingled.

And my blood ran cold.

Draco Malfoy stood in the entrance, sharp-eyed and alone, dressed like this was just another casual day and not one where he'd completely dismantled whatever shred of trust I had left.

The room stilled.

Adrien stood now, clipboard lowered. Fred moved to her side.

Rowan didn't speak. He watched Draco like a hawk circling its prey.

I stepped forward. "Whatever you're about to say? Don't."

Draco's jaw flexed. "I just need a second—"

"No," I cut him off. "You've had seconds, no more."

His voice dropped. "You don't know the whole story."

"I know enough. I know you sold me out."

Draco flinched. "That's not what happened."

"Really? Because they knew my name. My bloodline. They came for me. They almost killed Adrien. But sure—tell me how that wasn't you."

Draco stepped forward. I stepped back.

He grabbed my wrist. Not hard. But it was enough.

"Let go," I said, instantly cold.

"Katie, I didn't—"

"Let. Go."

"She said no," Rowan said evenly from behind me.

Draco turned. "This isn't your business."

"You made it my business," Rowan said, voice like steel. "When you gave her name to people who hunt people like her. When you let them walk into a trap, almost got Adrien killed—or were you not listening? I'm sorry, that's second nature for you—forgot."

Draco's expression cracked.

Rowan took a step forward, gaze never dropping. "You don't get to show up here. You don't get to play victim. You don't grab her."

"It wasn't—"

"She flinched," Rowan snapped. "That's enough."

Fred moved then too, standing beside Adrien now, arms crossed, jaw locked.

Draco tried again, something stammered on his tongue—but Rowan didn't give him the chance.

He punched him.

One clean, brutal punch straight to the jaw.

Draco reeled backward into a shelf of Jinx-Joke Journals, sending the whole thing rattling. He caught himself on the edge, but blood bloomed from his lip like a brand.

He looked shocked.

Not from pain.

From the fact that someone actually hit him.

"You don't get to hurt her," Rowan said, voice like a storm building. "Not anymore."

Draco looked at me then. Just looked.

I said nothing.

And then he left.

The bell jingled as the door swung shut behind Draco, sharp and final.

Silence dropped like a spell.

My breath hitched in my chest, shallow and tight.

Rowan didn't say anything. Didn't move toward me. He just stayed close—solid, steady, like the ground I didn't realize I needed beneath me.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded. Barely. "Yeah. Just... surprised."

From the corner, George whistled low. "Well. That escalated."

"Understatement of the century," Maddie said, poking her head around the corner from the till, eyes wide. "Did we just witness a romantic duel or an audition for Azkaban's Next Top Brawler?"

"Bit of both," Sage replied, sliding behind the counter with a smirk. "Ten points to Rowan. Extra points for flair."

Fred let out a breath, arms crossed tight over his chest as he watched the door like Draco might magically respawn. "If he comes back in here, I swear I'm not gonna be half as diplomatic."

Adrien was beside me before I even noticed her moving, fingers brushing gently down my arm. "He's not worth it," she said, voice low, certain.

"I know," I murmured.

"I mean, your taste is," she added, nodding at Rowan, "significantly improving."

"Agreed," Sage piped in. "This one punches first, asks questions never."

"Very attractive," Maddie confirmed.

"Do I get a medal or something?" Rowan muttered, half-sarcastic.

"No," Adrien said. "But you are officially being added to the Girls' Emergency Defense Roster."

Rowan smirked. "Should I list 'punching entitled Slytherins' under romantic gestures or self-defense?"

"Both," I said before I could think twice, voice still shaky, but a little stronger now.

"You're welcome," he murmured, soft but certain.

I didn't answer, just held his eyes.

George leaned in, hand to his chin like he was judging an art exhibit. "That was a pretty solid punch. Clean contact. Good follow-through."

Fred nodded, grudgingly impressed. "You've been practicing."

Rowan shrugged. "Some people play Quidditch. I hit Deatheater sympathizers."

"Thought you did both..." Maddie's eyes narrowed.

"New house hobby," Sage said, eyes gleaming. "I'm into it."

Adrien wrapped an arm loosely around my shoulders, grounding me. "You alright?"

I nodded again, this time meaning it more.

And when Rowan reached down and brushed his fingers lightly against mine—just a touch, not a demand—I didn't flinch.

We'd decided quietly, with one look across the shop: we needed to talk to Mr. Weasley. Tonight. Before this spiraled any further. Before we lost the chance.

"Alright," Sage said, grabbing her sweater and slinging it over one shoulder. "Let's get this over with. The sooner we talk to Mr. Weasley, the sooner we stop spiraling."

"Speak for yourself," Maddie muttered, popping a piece of Honeydukes fudge into her mouth. "I spiral professionally."

"You snack professionally," Adrien said without looking up.

"I contain multitudes."

Fred appeared in the doorway just as Adrien slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. "You're leaving?"

Adrien paused. "Yeah. Girls' night."

Fred squinted. "...Girls' night?"

"Face masks, lying to ourselves, and emotionally repressing through snacks," Maddie said brightly.

"Classic," Sage added, grabbing her wand.

George wandered in behind Fred, chewing on something. "Sounds boring. We'll close up."

"Yeah," Adrien said, pressing a quick kiss to Fred's cheek. "You know the drill. Don't blow anything up. And don't let Rowan reorganize the fireworks wall again."

"Hey!" Rowan's voice called from the back. "That was strategic chaos."

Fred raised a brow, crossing his arms like he was born to look smug. "You sure you girls don't want muscle?"

Adrien tossed her hair over one shoulder, gesturing to the rest of us. "We've got plenty."

Then she gave Fred a slow, wicked grin. "Besides... I might need your muscle later."

Fred blinked. Then grinned—all teeth and sinful promise. "Heavy lifting or light restraints?"

"Surprise me," she purred, brushing past him with a subtle roll of her hips that had him rooted in place.

George choked. "I'm gonna need therapy."

"Get in line," Maddie muttered, snagging another Fainting Fancy on her way out.

Sage saluted. "Go team chaos and sexual tension."

Fred turned to George as the group moved through the shop "You think she meant—?"

"Oh, she meant it," George said.

From the back, Rowan shouted, "We're still in the shop, you horny twats!"

We were nearly out the door when Sage cracked her knuckles. "I've been waiting to punch a Ministry official all week."

"Don't tempt her," Maddie added. "She's been eyeing Umbridge like a linebacker with a grudge."

George gave a slow, dramatic salute. "Be safe. Be sneaky. Save us some sweets."

Adrien grabbed a fistful of Fainting Fancies from the front jar. "Done."

Fred didn't say anything, but his gaze lingered on Adrien—quiet, protective, like he'd walk through fire if she needed it. He leaned in, whispered something against her ear that made her smirk and bite her lip before turning to go.

Rowan stepped up to me, hands in his pockets. "You sure you don't want backup?"

I met his eyes—still shaken from earlier, but anchored now.

"We've got this."

He nodded. Then leaned in, just enough for his voice to scrape low.

"You're not alone anymore, Blackwood. So stop acting like it."

Then he winked, like he hadn't just hit me straight in the chest with that.

I followed the others out into the night, coat pulled tight against the chill.

We had answers to find. And people to warn.

The kitchen at the Burrow was warm. Cozy, even.

The fire crackled in the hearth, a kettle hummed low on the stove, and a plate of half-eaten lemon biscuits sat forgotten at the center of the table. But the air wasn't soft. It was thick—with tension, with truth we weren't sure how to shape yet.

Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table, brow furrowed, hands clasped. Mrs. Weasley stood just behind him, arms crossed, apron still dusted with flour from dinner prep—but her expression was anything but soft.

"We didn't know what else to do," Adrien said quietly. "But we couldn't just sit on this."

Arthur nodded once, steady. "Start from the beginning."

So we did.

Adrien told him about spotting Harry, Ron, and Hermione outside the shop—how they slipped into Knockturn Alley like they were chasing something serious.

Sage added in details about following them, the subtle tailing, and how none of us had time to second-guess the decision.

Maddie recounted how Hermione pulled out Extendable Ears, which she absolutely did not get from us, and how we used one of our own to eavesdrop.

And then I told them everything we heard.

Draco's voice. The Vanishing Cabinet. The urgency. Blaise's presence. The tension in every word. The way they came out and found us. And the way Draco showed up again—alone—back at the shop.

By the time we finished, the kettle had gone quiet, the fire burned lower, and no one had touched the tea.

Arthur leaned back, absorbing every word. "You're absolutely sure it was the Vanishing Cabinet?"

"The?" Maddie muttered, but Sage shhed her.

"Yes," Adrien said immediately. "Draco wasn't asking. He knew what it was. He was demanding it be fixed."

"He said he needed it working," I added. "And he wasn't planning to use it for a prank."

Molly moved first, silently pouring fresh tea like it would settle something in her bones.

"And they saw you?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," Maddie said. "Both of them."

"And Draco came after," Sage added, eyes narrowing. "Grabbed Katie's wrist. Would've gone further if Rowan hadn't stepped in."

That got Mrs. Weasley's full attention. She spun around, teapot forgotten. "He put his hands on you?"

"It was brief," I muttered, "but yeah."

Molly set the teapot down with a controlled thud. "Well. I'll be having a word with his mother if she dares to look smug at the next Ministry event."

Arthur didn't smile. "If they're fixing that Cabinet, they're not just preparing. They're moving. That cabinet has a twin. If it's still hidden somewhere inside Hogwarts—"

"It is," Adrien cut in. "Possibly near the Room of Requirement."

"And if they connect them," I said, "we're wide open."

Mrs. Weasley tensed, then muttered under her breath, "I'm going to have a word with Ron, too. Traipsing off into Knockturn Alley, eavesdropping on war plans, and not saying a word to us? What on earth was he thinking?"

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll talk to him."

"He's lucky you will," Molly muttered. "Because I'll be too busy hexing the guilt into him."

Adrien hid a smile behind her teacup.

Arthur looked back at the four of us. "You did the right thing. All of you. You came to me first. That matters."

"We didn't want to cause a panic," Maddie added. "But we couldn't ignore it."

"You were right not to," Arthur said. "We'll take this to the Order—but quietly. If they're planning an infiltration, we'll be ready."

"You're not to go back to Knockturn Alley," Molly added sharply. "I mean it. You're clever. You're strong. But they don't see you that way. They see you as targets."

Adrien nodded. "We know."

"But we're not backing down either," I added.

Arthur looked between all of us, then smiled—just barely. "Didn't expect you would."

After everything we said—every whispered detail, every name, every second of betrayal—it was Mrs. Weasley who made the final call.

She clapped her hands once, sharp and final, like she was wrapping up a Quidditch match instead of a war briefing. "That's enough for one night."

We blinked.

She smoothed down her apron, brushing away nonexistent crumbs with all the quiet authority of a woman who had raised seven children and survived them all. "You've done more than most grown wizards would've had the sense or the courage to do. But that's it. Upstairs. The lot of you."

Adrien opened her mouth—probably to argue, or suggest one last theory about infiltration wards or back-end security holes in the Hogwarts defenses—but Molly raised a single brow.

Adrien snapped her mouth shut like a trap.

Molly gave a nod of satisfaction. "Go have your sleepover. Eat too much chocolate, complain about boys, throw popcorn at each other. Stay up too late watching some ridiculous Muggle film where everyone has perfect teeth and no real magical sense of danger. You can go back to saving the world at the beginning of term."

"Did she just tell us to emotionally repress until further notice?" Sage whispered.

Molly pointed at the stairs.

We moved. And no one dared look back.

By the time we made it back to mine and Adrien's room, we'd apparently decided—without ever actually saying it—that tonight's sleepover wasn't just happening, it was going to be legendary.

And maybe a little unhinged.

In under twenty minutes, our room had been transformed from "vaguely functional magical mess" to "glitter-coated sleepover battleground."

Maddie kicked open the door first, arms full of mismatched blankets, two decorative pillows shaped like frogs (where did she even find those?), and a candle labeled "stormy lust." She dumped it all dramatically in the center of the floor and announced, "I come bearing ambiance and bad decisions."

Sage followed behind her with a box of Honeydukes loot balanced on one hip and an old enchanted projector tucked under her arm like a weapon. "I also found snacks, possibly a cursed lemon drop, and this projector that smells like dust and childhood trauma."

"Absolutely not the one from the attic," I said.

"It was in the hallway cupboard," Sage said innocently.

"That is worse."

Adrien had already kicked off her boots and was yanking a beanbag into the corner like she was claiming territory. "If it explodes, we die cozy."

She wasn't wrong.

Sage was already changing into one of the Weasley jumpers she'd thieved from the laundry basket downstairs—something that may or may not have belonged to George, based on the smug look on her face and the smell of fireworks and regret wafting off it.

"This smells like danger," she declared proudly, spinning once and knocking over a tower of old potion books in the process. "And also like I own it now."

"Put it back before Molly senses a disturbance in the force," Adrien muttered.

"I am the disturbance," Maddie replied, pulling her hair into a bun with the elegance of a goblin on a sugar high.

Meanwhile, Sage was stacking an entire shrine of precariously balanced books, candle holders, and what looked suspiciously like one of Ginny's old Quaffles to get the projector set up. "I'm creating vibe."

"You're creating a safety hazard," I said.

She shrugged. "You say fire risk, I say passionate lighting choices."

Fairy lights were already floating from the ceiling, flickering in inconsistent patterns like they couldn't decide if they were setting the mood or having a seizure. One corner of the room was glowing a soft lavender. The other was flashing Slytherin green so aggressively it felt like it was trying to hypnotize us into robbing Gringotts.

"This is giving rave-in-a-basement energy," Adrien noted.

"I want it on my gravestone," Sage said.

I flopped down on the bed, only mildly winded by the effort. "We're one glitter hex away from being buried alive in sugar and poor decisions."

"Perfect," Adrien said, throwing a pillow at my head.

I caught it. Barely.

"Did we ever pick a movie?" I asked.

"No," Maddie replied, "but I've got a romcom where the Muggle girl ends up in an enemies-to-lovers duel with a demon-possessed assassin who's pretending to be her history teacher."

I blinked. "That's... oddly on brand."

Sage pulled a butterbeer out of the stash, tossed it to me without looking, and said, "Nothing says healing like hot people being emotionally unavailable on screen."

Honestly? She wasn't wrong.

Adrien and I exchanged a look across the pillows—our unspoken language of what even is our life and how did we get so lucky to find these absolute chaos gremlins.

Then Maddie let out a triumphant yell as she lit the "stormy lust" candle with a flick of her wand and nearly set Sage's sock on fire.

So, yeah.

Maybe this wasn't how I thought we'd be spending the night after reporting a potential war crime to Arthur Weasley.

But with the lights flickering, the sweets piled high, and my best friends yelling over each other about who got to use the charmed heating pad first...

It was exactly what I needed.

Even if the projector absolutely was cursed.

The movie ended with a dramatic swell of music, the main couple kissing in the pouring rain like that solved any of their emotional damage, and the screen faded to black just as someone behind me snorted.

"That man got stabbed in the kidney, like, three times and still had the upper body strength to dip her like that," Sage said, flinging a handful of popcorn at the projector.

Maddie raised her Butterbeer like a toast. "Love is stored in the deltoids."

"Love is stored in the denial," Adrien muttered from her cocoon of blankets.

I sat up from where I'd slowly sunk into the mattress. "I'm just saying—if anyone ever kissed me like that after getting stabbed, I'd have questions."

"Really?" Maddie grinned. "Because I'd have follow-up plans."

"That's the thirst talking," I said, dodging another popcorn grenade.

"It is," Sage admitted, stretching her arms over her head like a cat. "But also, if a guy punched someone for me and had good hair? Done. Wedding. Tuesday."

Adrien leaned over, deadpan. "You need a hobby."

"I have a hobby. It's emotionally unavailable men and cheese."

That made me laugh harder than it should've. Popcorn rained from somewhere across the room—Maddie, of course—and I retaliated immediately, hurling a pillow that knocked over the stack of butterbeer bottles Sage had been organizing by "hotness of label design."

Adrien groaned. "You animals. I was emotionally invested in that couple and now my blanket is covered in popcorn."

"They should've ended up with the emotionally repressed assassin anyway," Maddie said.

"She did," I pointed out.

"Okay but she should've ended up with both of them," Sage argued, gesturing wildly. "Polyamory is magical."

"Agreed," Adrien said through a yawn. "But also, wizard therapy is clearly needed."

Maddie flung herself into the nearest pillow pile like she was claiming it as sovereign land. "Alright," she declared, cheeks still pink from laughing, "top three Hogwarts snog potentials. Go."

I groaned instantly. "No."

"You're dodging the question, Blackwood," Sage sang, wiggling her fingers like she was about to conjure the truth from my soul. "Which means the answer is Rowan."

"I—no—I didn't—"

Adrien didn't even look up before throwing popcorn directly into my face. "You say that like we didn't witness the entire wrist-grab, punch-a-Malfoy, dramatic tension arc of doom."

"That was not a saga."

"Oh, honey," Maddie said, grinning like a full-blown villain, "this isn't just a slow-burn. This is serialized drama with limited commercial interruption. I'm just waiting for the forbidden kiss in a dark corridor—"

"Already happened," Adrien cut in casually, examining her split end like it wasn't a verbal grenade.

Maddie's mouth dropped open.

Sage sat up so fast her braid whipped me in the face. "WHAT?!"

I threw a pillow at Adrien. "Traitor!"

Adrien grinned, smug as ever. "Don't look at me—I didn't name-drop. I just confirmed."

Maddie practically launched herself across the bed. "You kissed Rowan and didn't tell us?! Plural? Are we talking multiple kisses?! When?!"

"I—" I was already red from the neck up, flailing under a blanket. "I didn't not tell you!"

"You told us nothing!" Sage shrieked. "We've been over here thirst-spiraling while you've been living a casual Hogwarts romance fantasy."

"It's not like that," I groaned, hiding my face in a pillow. "We're just... taking it slow."

"Slow?" Maddie echoed, scandalized. "He punched Draco for you. That's not slow, that's declaration-of-war energy!"

"He made you tea with lemon the day after," Adrien said under her breath. "You blushed so hard I thought you were hexed."

"You like it slow," Sage added, poking me in the side. "That's your thing. All soft touches and meaningful eye contact and hand brushes that last one second too long."

"Okay stop!" I said, shoving at them with both hands. "We're figuring it out, alright? It's new. And... complicated."

Adrien tossed a popcorn kernel in the air and caught it with her mouth. "Doesn't look that complicated when he's staring at you like he'd burn down Knockturn Alley if you asked."

Maddie collapsed dramatically across the foot of the bed. "I'm so proud. Our little emotionally guarded Katie is in a situationship with a protective hot boy who reads. This is growth."

"I hate you all," I muttered—but I was grinning.

"Sure you do," Sage said, tossing another piece of popcorn at me. "Now tell us everything. How slow is 'slow'? Do I need to start a Rowan scoreboard?"

"You absolutely don't."

"I already have one," Adrien said.

Of course she did.

They all stared at me.

"And, was it—?" Maddie pushed.

I sighed. "And it was... hot."

The room erupted into chaotic screaming and thrown candy.

Maddie flailed dramatically onto the floor. "I KNEW IT!"

Sage smacked her pillow against Adrien's legs. "CALL THE MINISTRY, IT'S CANON."

Adrien laughed so hard she wheezed, eyes shining. "You absolute fraud. You had us thinking it was complicated and tragic and now you're out here thirsting like the rest of us!"

I threw a pillow at her, even as I started to smile. "Okay fine, maybe he's something."

"Something you want to drag behind a tapestry and snog senseless," Sage muttered.

"Next!" I snapped, flinging a sock at her. "Adrien. Are you still aggressively inventorying Fred's wand collection, or...?"

Adrien gave me a faux-sweet smile. "Let's just say he's very hands-on when it comes to shop organization."

"Disgusting," Maddie said flatly. "And also I aspire to that level of energy."

Sage threw a popcorn kernel into the air and caught it with her mouth. "Honestly, the two of you have set the bar aggressively high. Fred alphabetizing products mid-makeout? Rowan punching Draco into a rack of cursed journals? Where's my emotionally scarred softboi with rage issues?"

"Probably still recovering from when you hexed his cauldron into a rat," I said.

"He shouldn't have called me Sassy Sage," she replied darkly.

Adrien snorted. "You are so sassy, though."

"I'm layered," Sage said, dramatically flipping her braid. "Like a sexy onion."

We were still laughing when Maddie sat up suddenly, rummaging through the snack pile with unearned purpose. "Alright. Real talk."

Sage's eyes flicked sideways.

Adrien caught it too. "What now?"

"Guess we should tell them," Maddie said, grinning like she was holding in the best kind of chaos.

Adrien sat up, suspicious. "Tell us what?"

Sage looked like she was about to burst. "We're transferring."

I blinked. "Transferring where?"

"To Hogwarts," Maddie said, like it was obvious. "Dumbledore gave us those envelopes last year—they were offered for us. We talked to our parents, we held off, but they finally said yes."

Adrien's jaw dropped. "Wait—you're serious?!"

"Deadly," Sage said, smug. "We're official. Gryffindor or bust."

There was a beat of silence where my brain tried to reboot.

And then the shrieking started.

Loud, feral, banshee-level screaming that would've made a Banshee herself file for copyright infringement.

We launched at them immediately—blankets flying, snacks forgotten, the projector nearly knocked over as Adrien and I tackled Maddie and Sage into the pillows.

"You maniacs!" Adrien shouted, laughing so hard she was nearly crying. "You kept this from us?!"

"I wanted it to be a moment!" Maddie squealed under a pile of limbs. "This is a moment!"

"You're gonna live in the same tower as me?" I gasped. "Do you have any idea how chaotic this year is about to be?"

"Exactly," Sage said, voice muffled under a beanbag. "We couldn't let you two have all the fun and trauma. Especially after our help in the last two years—come on!"

Adrien threw a slipper into the air like it was a bouquet. "We're gonna rule that castle."

"With matching detention records," Maddie added proudly.

"You're so getting partnered with Snape on day one," I said to Sage.

"Good," she grinned. "I've got plans."

We collapsed into a pile of tangled hair, sugar crumbs, and bad decisions—laughing until our stomachs hurt.

Because somehow, after all the chaos, the curses, the running and the loss and the fear—

This moment? It felt like home. And this time, we'd be heading back to Hogwarts together. All four of us.

Bring. It. On.

An hour later, just as we'd stopped scream-laughing long enough to settle down and pretend like we might actually watch another movie, the door creaked open.

"Absolutely not," I said flatly, before I even saw them.

Fred stuck his head in, grinning. "But we brought snacks?"

George appeared behind him like the devil on his shoulder, arms full of pastries and what looked suspiciously like a bottle of Firewhisky. "And emotional damage."

Rowan trailed in behind them, carrying a blanket over one shoulder and looking criminally unbothered. "We missed you."

"Oh, shove off," Sage said—but she was already smiling, that crooked grin she only wore when George was near. She tried to play it cool, but George tossed a pastry into her lap like it was a love letter and sat next to her with the casual ease of someone who knew exactly how to lean against someone without actually touching them. Yet.

I caught Adrien's eyes, we had clocked it and weren't bothering to hide our smiles at the idea.

Adrien rolled her eyes so hard I heard it. "You three have ten minutes. And if anyone farts, you're getting hexed into next week."

"Romantic," Fred whispered, sliding in beside her like he lived there.

"Shut up," she muttered—but her head tilted toward him anyway, and his smirk said he'd won.

Rowan dropped the blanket beside me, raising an eyebrow. "Make room, Blackwood?"

I didn't say yes.

But I didn't say no, either.

Instead, I scooted over slightly, just enough for his thigh to brush mine when he sat. He didn't say anything about it. He didn't have to. The heat said enough.

Maddie groaned dramatically from the floor. "Ugh, I can feel the sexual tension from here. It's getting in my butterbeer."

Fred took one look at the blanket fort chaos, the fairy lights, the glittery popcorn bowls, and muttered, "How do you all have this much pink lighting and still look vaguely threatening?"

"You're just not used to feminine rage," Sage said sweetly, unwrapping her pastry. "It's ambient."

George took a sip from his bottle and raised it like a toast. "To surviving girl world. May we learn its rules before it kills us."

Rowan scanned the room—four girls, a projector rigged with books and tape, pillows everywhere, glitter on the walls, chocolate stuck to the ceiling (we don't talk about that), and a shoe on the lamp.

He looked at me slowly, realization dawning. "Wait. Hold on."

I tilted my head. "Problem?"

"You two..." He gestured between Maddie and Sage, hesitating. "You're not going to Hogwarts right—back to...wherever you go?"

Maddie and Sage smiled in silence as their response.

Rowan groaned, "You're all going to Hogwarts this year?"

"Oh, that's cute," Maddie said, patting shoulder lightly. "He's just now connecting the dots."

Rowan blinked. "So... all four of you. Together. Every day."

"Every class," Sage added, grinning wide.

"Every late-night escapade," Adrien threw in.

"Every breakfast, lunch, and post-detention debrief," I said, just to twist the knife.

He stared at me like I'd personally scheduled his nervous breakdown. "And I willingly signed up for this."

"You kissed me after I almost set your pants on fire," I reminded him.

George whistled. "That's on you, mate."

Fred nodded, leaning into Adrien. "Welcome to the family. No refunds."

Rowan dropped his head back against the wall and muttered, "This is how I die."

Sage passed him a pastry. "Might as well die fed."

Eventually, the boys left—after being threatened with glitter hexes, magical detection charms, and at least two different types of wedgies Adrien claimed were illegal in three countries.

The room settled.

The chaos ebbed.

Sage was curled in one corner, snoring faintly into a stolen jumper with a chocolate frog wrapper stuck to her cheek. Maddie was completely sprawled out on the floor, a half-eaten pastry still in her hand like she'd passed out mid-victory snack. The projector cast soft, flickering shadows across the walls, playing a Muggle romcom none of us were paying attention to anymore.

Except maybe the part where the guy ran through the rain in slow motion. That part got a soft gasp from Adrien twenty minutes ago. She has a weakness for dramatic coat flapping.

But now?

She wasn't watching at all.

I turned my head, slowly, following her gaze.

Not toward the screen. Not toward the popcorn carnage or the soft twinkle of enchanted fairy lights above.

Toward the dresser.

The bottom drawer.

The one we'd charmed shut a month ago. The one that pulsed faintly with magic we didn't trust. The one that held the black envelope—sealed with wax.

Adrien hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. But her eyes hadn't left it in almost ten minutes.

I sat up slowly, brushing crumbs off my lap.

"We said we wouldn't open it," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "Not unless something changed."

She didn't look at me. "It changed."

I swallowed. "Because of Draco?"

"Because of all of it," she whispered. "The Cabinet. The secrecy. The fact that I can't stop thinking about what might be in there since..."

I glanced at the drawer. It didn't glow. It didn't hum. It just sat there.

Silent.

Still.

Waiting.

"But what if it's nothing?" I asked. "What if it's just... something stupid? Something that makes it worse?"

Adrien finally turned her head to look at me. Her face was shadowed, eyes darker in the dim light. "And what if it's not?"

That silence hit different.

Through Sage's soft snoring and the projector's humming static, something in my chest twisted.

I'd spent weeks avoiding that drawer. Avoiding what it might mean—what it might confirm. And now... now the world felt like it was shifting again. Like Draco's actions weren't just selfish, but calculated. Like the Ministry wasn't just dangerous, but prepared. Like we were already behind.

I looked at Adrien.

She didn't look scared.

She looked ready.

"Okay," I said quietly. "Let's do it."

Adrien didn't smile. She just nodded once, pulled her wand from the pile of blankets, and rose to her feet like the weight of the drawer had been pressing on her spine all night.

I followed.

Together, we crossed the room—stepping around candy wrappers and crumpled jumpers and a forgotten notebook scrawled with Fred's handwriting.

Adrien knelt in front of the drawer. The charm lock flickered faintly as we approached, like it knew.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I heard her whisper the counterspell.

The lock clicked. The drawer creaked open.

The black envelope sat inside.

Untouched. Unchanged. Undeniably important.

Adrien reached for it—and for the first time in hours, I felt the world still.

We opened it together. And the chapter changed.