all the fun stuff

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November 12th, 1993

Dear FGW,

I'm doing great. Better than great, actually.

First, I went to my very first Halloween party at Atlas' house. Lucy and I dressed up as two Juliets from William Shakespeare's play. Though we didn't drink much, because Dominic —remember, the younger neighbour with droopy eyes I told you about last time— tipped us that most of the punches were spiked, and we didn't dance much either, it was very entertaining. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually had fun. Huh.

Second, Ms. Sloan agreed to talk to Father about my college plan. Though it's still two years away, she promises to help me with my applications, too! Can you believe that?

Last but not least, Lucy's birthday is just around the corner and I have lots of party ideas in mind.

Your parents are well, I make sure of that myself. I'm sending you some herbs and spices for tea. I heard from Hermione that you can go downstairs to the kitchen and ask the elves for hot water. It's good for your health, especially after that rainy Quidditch match.

Hope you'll keep on doing well. Don't cause too much trouble. Go on study for your O.W.L.s this year. Say hi to everyone from me. I miss you, too.

Oh, any chance that you'll be spending Christmas at home?

Sincerely,
DJA

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November 26th, 1993

FRED'S FEET CAME to a skidding stop and he slammed his hands onto his friends' table, grinning ear-to-ear, "Did you hear, did you hear?"

"What?" Alicia sighed, "If you're talking about Wood's calculative lecture on our odds of winning after yesterday's match, yes, I've heard."

Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match yesterday, so Gryffindor was not out of the running after all. Oliver repossessed his manic energy, and insisted they shouldn't lose another match.

"He's making us train five days a week!" George exclaimed, joining the troop, "What are you so excited about? Being tired? Bludgeoned by bats and Bludgers daily?"

"Don't tell me you're not excited about this."

George cracked a grin, "Yeah, of course I am! Can't wait for our match against Slytherin. We're gonne beat them so bad."

"Definitely!"

"Hey, I have a dumb question," Lee quipped all of a sudden, frowning, "When Professor Dumbledore's parents named their children, what did they plan to call their child with? Is it Dumb or Dore? I mean, he turns out to be way past brilliant and, well, doors—"

Angelina slapped the back of his head in frustration, "That's his surname, you daft. You just insulted an entire bloodline. How am I friends with you?"

"Professor Dumbledore's name is Albus Percival... something something Dumbledore."

"Brian."

"Wulfric."

"Well that's a mouthful."

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December 13th, 1993

"OI, GEORGE, HAVE you seen my— my Charms homework—"

Fred lifted a messily thrown blanket from his trunk and a number of things fell out of its tangle: a ball, a few packages of chocolate, some underwears, and several parchments. He dropped the blanket and rummaged through the scattered papers, hoping to find what he had been looking for. Then his eyes caught something interesting and he raised it for George to see.

"Wow! Look what I found!"

"What?" George stopped ransacking his own backpack for the same reason Fred was ransacking his trunk and peered to look, "Oh, is that—"

"It is."

"Our long lost—"

"—once forgotten—"

"—treasure. Ah... good times."

"The Marauder's Map," Fred flipped it over and over, "We never use this anymore."

"Not since we memorized all hidden passages in Hogwarts, no."

"Wonder if anyone needs it more than we do. Should we look for a successor?"

George shrugged, "Sure."

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Harry ended up getting it as an early Christmas gift from the twins.

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December 26th, 1993

Dear D. Allen,

How are you? Sorry I haven't been corresponding much, and now that I am, I'm using it to rant.

You see, Harry got an anonymous present for Christmas yesterday. It was a Firebolt, the newest, most expensive, and, simply put, the best flying broom ever invented so far. I'm happy for him, of course, and everyone is ecstatic for their rocketing chance to win Quidditch this year, but I'm also concerned about his safety!

(You already heard about it from Mrs. Weasley or Fred, right? That Sirius Black was in Hogwarts, he is Harry's godfather, and he was locked up in Azkaban for killing 12 Muggles during his escape after his involvement in Harry's parents' deaths was discovered)

It could be Black who sent the gift, couldn't it? Professor McGonagall agreed. He could've tampered with it, jinxed it, or worse, cursed it, right? I told the head of our house, who then confiscated the broom to check it first, because I was genuinely concerned. Not because of anything else. And yet they all see me like I'm a traitor or a criminal!

How is that fair? I did the right thing, didn't I?

Well I suppose I'd rather have them mad at me for a few weeks than see Harry fall into his death on his next Quidditch match because I didn't do anything. He is still my best friend, even if he doesn't feel the same. I let him off with the Marauder's Map already.

What is it with boys and their inexistent concern for safety?

Sorry for the lengthy rant. I have nobody on my side, so nobody to talk to.

Thank you for your thoughtful Christmas gift! I hope you like the sugar quills. Have a great holiday!

Sincerely,
H. Granger

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February 16th, 1994

DAISY'S REPLY TO the Weasleys' Christmas letters included a warning to be nice to Hermione, but honestly, she knew it was a long shot.

Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny reported that she was always busy, always moving, and always avoiding chances to meet them. She had too many classes, well beyond logic Ginny said, and she had been busy visiting Hagrid as well. Probably to discuss the fate of Buckbeak after the prior incident with Malfoy.

Ron was still furious at her, despite not owning the broom himself. He said that stripping down a brand new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage.

Harry was angry, despite knowing that she had good intention, and being in Ron's constant company didn't help to put the fire out.

But it seemed like the poor girl could catch no break.

The day Harry's Firebolt was returned, Ron found out that... his rat was eaten by Hermione's pet cat.

Daisy received another lengthy, smudged-by-tears letter from Hermione that evening, and she also read Ron's mad rendition of the story which he had sent to Mrs. Weasley.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred in a failed attempt to cheer him up, "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away."

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said Percy.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron exclaimed miserably, "Remember, Harry?"

"His finest hour," said Fred, unable to keep a straight face. His brother's bad mood was starting to get annoying as well as amusing at the same time. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat. What's the point of moaning?"

On the bright side, Harry's jinx-free Firebolt brought a lot of joy to a lot of people, including Professor McGonagall herself, Oliver Wood, Percy's girlfriend Penny, and even Madam Hooch. Not only joy, it also brought Gryffindor victory over Ravenclaw, which led to a festive party that lasted well until after midnight. Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with a couple bottles of buttlebeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

Well.

That night, Sirius Black broke into Harry's quarter and was seen holding a knife over Ron's bed. Ron sent Daisy and his parents a letter worth four parchments long —longer than any essay he had made for any homework— about his oh-so-frightening experience as well as newfound fame.

He quite enjoyed the spotlight. For once, people were paying more attention to him than Harry.

The next letter Daisy received was from Hermione, and it was very short.

Dear D. Allen,

It's dreadful news. Hagrid lost his case, and Buckbeak is going to be executed. We'll keep on trying to help, of course, but I'm not optimistic with the prospect of an appeal.

I finally made up with Ron and Harry. I hope everything will be okay.

Sincerely,
H. Granger

"My God," Daisy shook her head, folding the paper once more. She looked around her room, its bleak decorations and lonely silence, then huffed, "Why do they get to experience all the fun stuff?"

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