Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The sports hall was too clean.

That was the first thing Sirius Black decided he hated about it.

It did not smell like a proper Hogwarts classroom, which was to say it did not smell faintly of dust, candlewax, dangerous spell residue, and the long, slow panic of centuries. It smelled of polished floors, new rubber, fresh paint, cold metal, and the sharp lemon sting of whatever Filch had been forced to use because the governors had decided physical education needed “modern standards.”

There were white court lines painted across the floor in bright intersecting shapes. There were hoops attached to the far wall. There were climbing ropes coiled up near the ceiling. There were racks of balls in different sizes, several benches, painted cones, stopwatches, mats, a wall of weights behind a shuttered side section, and enormous high windows pouring silver morning light across the varnished floor.

Beyond a row of glass doors, another new corridor led towards the pool.

The pool.

Hogwarts had a pool now.

The castle had apparently discovered tile.

“I still think this is a trap,” Peter Pettigrew muttered, staring at the shining court like it might open and swallow him. “This whole place looks like it was built by people who want us to suffer.”

“That’s called exercise,” Lily Evans said.

Peter looked at her, betrayed. “You know about this?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I knew it,” James Potter said, swinging his arms as though already warming up for glory. “This is why Muggle Studies was always dangerous. First batteries, then football, now institutionalised sweating.”

Mary Macdonald, standing beside Lily in her new scarlet-trimmed PE kit, looked down at herself with deep resentment. “I look like I’m about to be sorted into a cult for people who enjoy shin splints.”

The uniforms had been waiting for them in the changing rooms: baggy shorts, loose tops with house-coloured trims, knee-high socks, and trainers that made half of the pureblood students walk around as if their feet had been replaced with furniture. The Gryffindor lot had red trim. Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, and Dorcas Meadowes had green. Barty Crouch Jr. and Pandora Rosier had blue. Aria Parkinson and Briar Rosewood had yellow.

The colours made the hall look like someone had spilled a house-point hourglass across a gymnasium.

“I feel ridiculous,” Marlene McKinnon said, tugging at her shorts.

“You look ridiculous,” Gideon Prewett said helpfully.

“So do you.”

“I look fast.”

“You look like you dressed in the dark and then lost a fight with a sock drawer.”

Fabian Prewett lifted one knee experimentally, eyeing his sock. “Why are they so high?”

“To protect your shins,” Lily said.

“My shins have never done anything to deserve this attention.”

Frank Longbottom, already sweating from the emotional labour of being present, adjusted his trainers. “I don’t mind the socks.”

Alice Fortescue glanced at him with fond disbelief. “That is the bravest thing anyone has said all morning.”

Across the hall, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw knot had formed with the defensive posture of people who had survived worse things than a PE lesson but considered this more insulting.

Evan Rosier stood with both hands shoved into his shorts pockets, looking personally offended by the fabric. “These are not shorts. These are surrender flags.”

Dorcas Meadowes was tying her hair back with vicious efficiency. “Stop complaining. It’s clothes.”

“It’s humiliation stitched into cotton.”

Pandora Rosier, in blue-trimmed uniform, was studying the court lines with bright curiosity. “Do you think the floor markings are some kind of coded ritual? Like a map of permitted collisions?”

“Pandora,” Barty said, without looking away from the other side of the hall. “For once in your life, please focus on the real injustice.”

Pandora followed his gaze.

Regulus Black had been separated from them.

Madam Hooch had done it immediately, with the clean brutality of a woman who had captained Quidditch teams, survived teenage boys, and seen through alliances before they were even formed.

“No. Not you lot together,” she had said the moment Regulus drifted towards Barty, Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas. “I know a tactical cluster when I see one. Black, over there.”

Regulus had blinked.

Barty had started, “Madam Hooch, with respect—”

“No.”

“I hadn’t even said—”

“You were going to.”

“I might have been saying something educational.”

“You were going to complain.”

Barty had opened his mouth, then closed it.

Regulus had merely shifted away, unbothered, the green trim of his shirt neat against his narrow frame, the pale streak in his dark fringe catching the light whenever he moved. He had taken his place closer to the middle of the hall, calm and quiet and attentive, like the rules had already been arranged inside his head and only needed naming.

Unfortunately for Barty, Aria Parkinson had reacted like a hunting bird spotting exposed prey.

“Oh, mine,” she had declared.

And then she had attached herself to Regulus’s arm with both of hers.

She did not approach him so much as fold herself around him. Her long blonde hair, the ends dyed a jagged shock of colour, swung over her shoulder as she hugged his arm to her chest, leaned nearly her entire weight into him, lifted one leg behind her in a lazy little bend, and smiled across the hall like a girl who had just stolen something priceless from a museum and intended to wear it as a necklace.

Regulus did not look down. He kept his eyes on Hooch.

Aria cooed up at him anyway. “You’re very sturdy today.”

“I’m standing still.”

“Sturdy emotionally, then.”

“That’s worse.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“That’s basically romance in pureblood.”

Barty’s face twisted. “Parkinson.”

Aria’s grin sharpened. “Crouch.”

“Remove yourself.”

“No.”

“You have your own friend.”

“I know. One of them is mine and one of them is yours and Hooch gave me both. Tragic for you. Glorious for me.”

Briar Rosewood, standing on Regulus’s other side and still trying to make peace with her yellow-trimmed socks, looked up mildly. “I’m not property.”

Aria tilted her head without letting go of Regulus. “No, darling, you’re a national treasure.”

Barty pointed at Aria. “Do not darling her.”

“I’ll darling her as much as I want.”

“She is my girlfriend.”

“And my best friend. Learn to share.”

“I do not share.”

“You share air.”

“Not happily.”

Briar sighed. “Barty.”

He softened instantly. “Yes, beloved?”

“You’re going to pass out if you keep arguing before we’ve even started.”

“That is wildly beside the point.”

“It feels directly on the point.”

Pandora raised a hand politely. “I think if he passes out now, technically he avoids the lesson.”

Barty turned to her. “Do not give me hope.”

Madam Hooch’s whistle cut through the hall.

The sound was so sharp it seemed to bounce off every painted line.

“Enough chatter,” she called. “Lines. Everyone in front of me. Quickly.”

A lot of teenagers moved with the speed of people who had heard the word quickly and chosen to interpret it as a philosophical concept.

James jogged forward, because James Potter could not resist looking eager whenever a sport might be involved.

Marlene followed with a competitive little bounce, cracking her knuckles. Sirius strolled like the hall was a stage and he was the only person dressed properly for the performance. Remus moved carefully, already watching the floor as though it personally wanted his knees dead. Peter shuffled beside him, round-eyed and doom-heavy.

Lily walked like someone who intended to do exactly enough to avoid being shouted at.

Mary walked like someone who intended to complain so beautifully that effort became unnecessary.

Alice and Frank took their places together. Fabian and Gideon bickered all the way to the line.

Regulus moved when Hooch told him to move. Aria moved because Regulus moved and she was still clinging to his arm. Briar followed at a sensible pace. Barty watched the three of them with visible suffering before Dorcas shoved him between the shoulder blades.

“Walk.”

“She’s doing that on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“It’s working.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you not angrier?”

Dorcas glanced over at Aria, who was now resting her cheek against Regulus’s upper arm while Regulus listened to Hooch with the grave stillness of a soldier awaiting battle strategy.

“Because it’s funny.”

“It is not funny.”

Evan exhaled through his nose. “It’s a little funny.”

Barty looked wounded. “Et tu, Rosier?”

Evan shrugged. “I go where the entertainment is.”

Hooch stood before them in a black tracksuit with a whistle around her neck and the same expression she wore before Quidditch practice when someone was about to be frightened into personal growth.

“Right,” she said. “Welcome to your first PE lesson.”

Several faces collapsed.

James lifted a hand. “Madam Hooch, what exactly does PE stand for?”

“Physical education.”

Peter whispered, “Physical execution.”

Mary whispered back, “Same thing.”

Hooch’s yellow eyes swept over them. “For decades, Hogwarts has treated sport as though Quidditch is the beginning and end of all physical ability. It is not.”

A ripple moved through the students.

James looked personally challenged.

Marlene narrowed her eyes.

Sirius leaned towards Remus. “Did she just insult the national religion?”

“She did.”

“Bold.”

“I respect it.”

James twisted around. “Moony.”

Remus held up both hands. “I didn’t say I agreed. I said I respected the suicidal confidence.”

Hooch continued, “Following complaints, requests, petitions, several aggressively worded letters, and one presentation that included diagrams, injury statistics, and the phrase ‘limited sporting culture’ twelve times—”

Lily looked suddenly very innocent.

Mary smirked at her. “Limited sporting culture?”

“Accurate phrasing matters.”

“—Hogwarts has expanded its physical education programme,” Hooch said. “We now have this sports hall, the outdoor athletics track, a pool, a gym, strength and conditioning areas, and space for multiple sports clubs and teams beyond Quidditch.”

Pandora’s hand rose.

Hooch looked at her. “Yes, Rosier?”

“Will there be rules for the pool?”

“Yes.”

Pandora lowered her hand, disappointed. “Tragic.”

Dorcas muttered, “You were going to experiment with drowning physics.”

“Only gently.”

“There is no gentle drowning physics.”

“There could be if people let me work.”

Hooch gave Pandora a long look and then apparently decided the safest route was forward motion.

“You will rotate through units. Athletics, swimming, gymnastics, ball games, team sports, gym work, flexibility, coordination, endurance, and more. During the next several weeks, I will be evaluating baseline skill levels. Some of you will remain in this class. Some of you may be moved down for foundation work. Some may be moved up into advanced groups.”

Barty pointed both hands towards Regulus without looking. “There. Done. Move him now.”

“Mr Crouch.”

“I’m being efficient.”

“You’re being premature.”

“That is not a complaint I often receive.”

Briar closed her eyes. “Barty.”

James made a strangled laughing sound.

Sirius barked a laugh so loud it ricocheted.

Regulus looked at Barty with one flat, unimpressed glance, then looked back at Hooch.

Aria gasped, delighted. “You’re in trouble.”

Barty looked at her. “You’re attached to him like a barnacle.”

“A pretty barnacle.”

“A pest.”

“A beloved pest.”

Regulus said, without moving, “Both can be true.”

Aria pressed a hand to her heart. “He sees me.”

Hooch blew her whistle again. “I said enough.”

Everyone straightened with varying levels of resentment.

“There will also be trials for clubs and teams as units develop,” Hooch said. “Athletics. Swimming. Gymnastics. Football. Netball. Basketball. Hockey. Cross-country. Strength and conditioning. Badminton. Tennis when the outdoor courts are finished. Spots will not be given because you fancy a new jumper. They will be measured on skill, attendance, effort, and improvement.”

“Effort?” Mary said, appalled. “That feels discriminatory.”

Lily elbowed her.

“What? I am raising a serious political concern.”

Frank looked worried. “Do you think attendance counts today?”

Alice patted his arm. “We’re already here.”

“That’s upsetting.”

James lifted his chin. “Athletics sounds brilliant.”

Marlene grinned. “You would.”

“Speed is a sacred art.”

“Speed in a straight line is not the same as in the sky.”

James scoffed. “Please. Athletic talent transfers.”

Hooch’s mouth twitched like she had been waiting for that. “You may find that it does not always transfer as neatly as ego suggests, Potter.”

Fabian whispered, “She’s going to murder him.”

Gideon whispered back, “Good lesson, then.”

Hooch clapped her hands once. “Warm-ups first. Two laps around the hall at an easy pace, then dynamic stretches. No sprinting unless instructed. No hexing. No tripping. No dramatics.”

Sirius lifted his hand. “Is emotional dramatics included?”

“Yes.”

He lowered it. “Unreasonable.”

The class dragged itself to the edge of the hall.

The first lap began.

It was, almost immediately, a disaster.

James started too fast.

Marlene started too fast because James started too fast and Marlene would rather break both legs than let him look smug. Sirius started too fast because Sirius enjoyed chaos and also because Regulus had begun at a controlled, easy pace that somehow already made everyone else look as though they were moving underwater.

Remus jogged three steps, winced, and slowed to something between a jog and a dignified escape.

Peter made it half the length of the hall before clutching his side. “I’m dying.”

“You are not dying,” Lily said, jogging past him.

“How do you know?”

“You’re still talking.”

“That might be my ghost.”

Mary, behind them, said, “If I die, I want it known that I opposed this lesson from the beginning.”

Alice tried to keep a steady pace. “We’ve been running for twenty seconds.”

“Exactly. My instincts were correct.”

Frank, breathing carefully, said, “I think I swallowed air wrong.”

Fabian passed him backwards for absolutely no reason, arms out. “You’re supposed to swallow air wrong. That’s the sport.”

Gideon, red-faced already, pointed at him. “Stop showing off before you fall.”

Fabian grinned.

Then he stepped onto one of the painted court lines, slid half a foot, yelped, windmilled both arms, and hit the floor on his backside.

Gideon ran past him. “Prophecy fulfilled.”

Fabian stared up at the ceiling. “The floor attacked me.”

Hooch’s whistle shrieked. “Prewett, up.”

“Emotionally or physically?”

“Physically first.”

Across the hall, Regulus moved like the lap belonged to him. He was not sprinting. He was not showing off. That somehow made it worse. He ran with quiet efficiency, feet light, shoulders loose, breath steady. He took the turns cleanly, adjusted his stride before the corners, and never once looked like the new trainers had personally offended him.

Aria, who had been jogging beside him for approximately seven seconds, made a wounded little noise.

Regulus glanced down.

Her face had gone dramatic with misery. “I hate this.”

“You’ve barely started.”

“I know. It’s immediate. My body is very decisive.”

Briar passed them at a slow, deliberate pace, cheeks already flushed. “Don’t listen to her. She’s been complaining since she had to tie her laces.”

Aria pointed after Briar while still jogging badly. “That was oppression.”

“You tied them in bows and then said they looked aggressive,” Briar said over her shoulder.

“They did.”

“They’re shoes.”

“Ugly shoes.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched.

Aria’s breath hitched as she tried to keep pace. “Reg.”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to collapse.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I can feel death. It’s in my calves.”

“That’s blood flow.”

“Worse.”

Barty, several feet away and suffering more loudly than Briar despite having attempted a confident start, snapped, “Parkinson, stop monopolising him.”

Aria immediately brightened, misery forgotten for one glorious second. “Can’t hear you over all this athleticism I’m doing.”

“You’re barely upright.”

“I’m upright next to Regulus. That counts more.”

Barty stumbled on nothing. “It does not.”

Briar slowed enough to look back at him. “Careful.”

He straightened instantly. “I am grace itself.”

Then he coughed, put one hand on his thigh, and wheezed, “I hate grace.”

Dorcas jogged past him with the grim expression of someone who had decided suffering was more efficient in silence.

Evan followed at a lazy pace that suggested he was doing only enough to avoid Hooch’s wrath. “You’re all making this look much more spiritual than it is.”

Pandora was looking at the ceiling ropes while moving in a distracted sideways jog. “If the ropes came down during running, do you think we would be expected to incorporate them?”

“No,” Dorcas said.

“But imagine.”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

On the far turn, Aria’s steps became shorter. She gave one tiny, strangled sound, then clutched harder at Regulus’s arm.

“I can’t.”

Regulus slowed without stopping. “You can walk.”

“I can’t walk either.”

“That’s inconvenient.”

“Carry me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please, I’m delicate.”

“You tried to bite Sirius last week.”

“He deserved it.”

Sirius, passing on the outside, turned his head. “I did not deserve it.”

Aria hissed at him.

Sirius hissed back.

Hooch’s whistle snapped again. “Black. Parkinson. Less hissing, more running.”

Both Sirius and Aria said, “Which Black?”

Regulus made a quiet amused sound, barely more than breath.

Aria looked up at him with immediate triumph. “You laughed.”

“I exhaled.”

“You loved that.”

“It was mildly efficient.”

“My humour is elite.”

Barty groaned from behind them. “I am going to be sick.”

Briar frowned sharply. “Have you eaten?”

“Briar, beloved, I am currently using all my energy to remain among the living.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“I had tea.”

“That is not food.”

Aria, still clinging to Regulus, very suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

Briar’s head snapped around.

“Aria.”

“What?”

“When did you eat?”

“Recently.”

“Recently when?”

“Time is a social construct.”

“Aria.”

Regulus looked down at her.

She pouted. “Don’t both of you look at me like that.”

Briar’s expression turned dangerously soft. “You forgot again.”

“I didn’t forget. I postponed.”

“You cannot postpone eating.”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy when someone mentions food.”

Regulus slowed to a walk. “She’s light.”

Aria narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

He looked at her. “You’re leaning your entire weight on my arm.”

“That’s not a reliable measurement.”

“You weigh less than my kit bag.”

“Your kit bag has emotional baggage.”

Briar came closer, still red-faced from jogging but now fully invested. “After this lesson, you’re eating.”

Aria groaned. “Briar.”

“No.”

“I’m being athletic.”

“You’re being carried by spite.”

Regulus glanced towards Hooch, who was watching the class with a keen evaluative stare and a clipboard.

Then, without ceremony, he bent, scooped Aria up bridal-style, and continued running.

Aria shrieked.

Not in fear.

In delight.

“Oh, this is better.”

Barty nearly tripped over his own feet. “Are you joking?”

Regulus adjusted his hold with practical ease and accelerated smoothly, Aria’s arms looping around his neck as she grinned at Barty over his shoulder.

“Look,” she called, smug as sin. “Advanced training.”

Hooch’s whistle went to her lips.

Regulus called, calm and clear, “Added resistance, Madam. Makes the baseline more accurate.”

Hooch paused.

James, now on his second lap and breathing harder than he wanted anyone to know, stared. “That cannot be allowed.”

Marlene, beside him, puffed, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You can’t carry someone.”

“I could carry Peter.”

Peter made a noise of alarm. “No, you couldn’t.”

“I could drag you.”

“That’s worse.”

Hooch lowered the whistle, eyes brightening. “Fine, Black. If you choose to add weight, maintain control. Parkinson, if you fall, that’s on you.”

Aria tucked her face against Regulus’s shoulder and called, “I accept no responsibility.”

“You never do,” Dorcas muttered.

Sirius jogged closer, grinning. “Having fun, Reg?”

Regulus passed him with Aria in his arms and no visible strain. “Apparently.”

“Show-off.”

Regulus glanced at him, almost smiling. “Try to keep up.”

James made a scandalised sound. “Oh, he’s challenging us now.”

Sirius laughed and sped up.

Hooch watched Regulus complete the lap while carrying Aria, her pencil moving across the clipboard.

The rest of the class watched too, because it was difficult not to watch someone make running look like a private agreement between his body and gravity.

Aria, who had begun the lesson on the verge of spiritual collapse, was now waving one hand in royal greeting.

“Awful,” Mary said from across the hall. “He’s turned her into luggage.”

“Happy luggage,” Alice said.

“I’d be happy luggage if it got me out of running.”

Frank, panting, nodded. “Same.”

Fabian, now back on his feet and moving carefully, looked over. “Gideon.”

“No.”

“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

“You want me to carry you.”

“I carried our bond in childhood.”

“You ate my biscuits in childhood.”

“That was bonding.”

“You were a plague.”

Hooch blew the whistle after the second lap. “Bring it in. Circle.”

The group slowed into a messy cluster, most of them breathing like they had been chased by wolves.

Regulus set Aria down.

Her legs wobbled theatrically.

Briar stepped in immediately and caught her by the elbow. “You did not run enough to wobble.”

“I experienced the run emotionally.”

Briar pinched her arm gently. “Food after.”

Aria leaned into her now, smiling sweetly. “Yes, mum.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Barty dragged himself to Briar’s other side and rested a hand over his heart. “I also require care.”

Briar looked him over. “You require stamina.”

“Cruel.”

“You chose to sprint for the first ten seconds to impress me.”

“It worked.”

“You nearly fell into Evan.”

Evan nodded. “I was uninspired.”

Pandora, who had somehow completed the laps without appearing aware she had done so, raised her hand again. “Madam Hooch, are we allowed to name muscle groups after how they feel?”

“No.”

“My lungs are called betrayal.”

“That is not a muscle group.”

“It is today.”

The warm-ups were worse.

Running, it turned out, had only been the opening act. Hooch led them through high knees, heel flicks, lunges, side steps, arm circles, squats, calf raises, hip openers, and something called inchworms that made half the class stare at her with open hatred.

“Inchworms,” Peter repeated faintly. “Like the creature?”

“Hands to the floor,” Hooch said. “Walk them out. Hold. Walk your feet in.”

“My hands do not want to walk.”

“Teach them.”

Peter stared at his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

James, red-faced but determined, threw himself into every movement with heroic confidence and increasingly poor technique.

“Potter,” Hooch called. “That is not a lunge. That is a proposal to the floor.”

Sirius laughed so hard he nearly lost balance mid-squat.

James pointed at him from one knee. “You try it.”

“I am trying it.”

“You look terrible.”

“I look graceful.”

“You look like a collapsing wardrobe.”

Remus, who had modified everything into smaller, careful movements, said dryly, “Both of you look like collapsing wardrobes.”

Lily completed her lunges with quiet focus, then glanced at Mary, who was doing what could technically be described as moving.

“Mary.”

“I’m pacing myself.”

“You’ve done one.”

“And it nearly killed me. Wise pacing.”

Marlene dropped into a squat beside them, wobbled, recovered, and hissed, “Why do my thighs hate me?”

“Because you only train muscles required for hitting Bludgers,” Lily said.

“Those are the only useful muscles.”

“Apparently not.”

Marlene looked across the hall at Regulus, who was moving through the warm-ups with irritating precision, every stretch controlled, every shift balanced.

Regulus lowered into a lunge, spine straight, knee aligned, not even breathing hard.

Marlene’s eyes narrowed. “I hate that.”

James followed her gaze. “I could do that.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I absolutely can.”

He tried.

His back foot slid.

He made a noise that started as confidence and ended as panic, catching himself with both hands on the floor.

Sirius clapped. “Beautiful. Ten points for emotional range.”

Regulus looked over, one brow faintly raised.

James snapped, “I’m warming up dynamically.”

“You’re on all fours.”

“It’s advanced.”

“Is it?”

“Shut up.”

Regulus’s mouth curled for half a second before he turned back to Hooch.

Aria, meanwhile, had decided that warm-ups were beneath her spirit, her body, and her bloodline.

She stood beside Regulus with one hand pressed dramatically to her sternum. “I cannot squat.”

Regulus did another smooth squat. “You can.”

“I can’t. I’m an heiress.”

“That doesn’t affect your knees.”

“It affects everything.”

Briar, doing slow calf raises nearby, said, “Do the warm-up.”

“I am warm.”

“You’re standing still.”

“I’m emotionally overheated.”

Briar gave her a look.

Aria turned immediately to Regulus. “Reg, save me.”

“No.”

“Regulus.”

“No.”

“I’ll perish.”

“You won’t.”

“I’ll make it your problem.”

“It already is.”

Barty, still attempting to look dignified while doing side lunges and failing dramatically, called, “Good. Let her perish.”

Aria gasped. “Briar, your boyfriend wants me dead.”

Briar did not even look up. “He’s jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Barty said, with jealousy pouring off him like steam. “I am concerned about fairness.”

Evan snorted.

Dorcas said, “You’re concerned she’s touching both of them.”

Barty performed one side lunge too far, grimaced, and whispered, “I miss dignity.”

Pandora leaned sideways into a stretch, eyes on Regulus. “Technically, if Aria refuses to warm up and Regulus performs warm-ups while lifting her, she becomes equipment.”

Aria pointed at Pandora. “Yes.”

Briar said, “No.”

Regulus paused.

Aria’s eyes went wide with possibility. “Reg.”

“No.”

“Reg.”

“No.”

“Regulus Black, I am begging.”

“You should have eaten.”

“That is unrelated.”

“It isn’t.”

“I will eat after if you let me be equipment.”

Briar’s expression sharpened. “You promise?”

Aria pressed one hand to her heart and the other still around Regulus’s arm. “On Barty’s life.”

Barty choked. “Absolutely not.”

Regulus considered her for one second.

Then he picked her up under the arms, shifted her easily over his shoulder, and did squats.

The hall erupted.

“Madam Hooch!” James shouted, scandalised. “He can’t just use a person.”

Hooch was writing on her clipboard again. “He appears to be doing so safely.”

Aria hung over Regulus’s shoulder like a triumphant banner, hair swinging, arms loose, laughing breathlessly. “This is culture!”

Briar covered her face with both hands, though her shoulders were shaking.

Barty stared in open devastation. “That should be me.”

Dorcas looked at him. “Being used as a weight?”

“Being helpful to Briar.”

“She doesn’t want you to squat her.”

Barty looked at Briar. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “A wound.”

Regulus completed the set without his form breaking.

Hooch’s delight became impossible to hide.

“Black, hold at the bottom.”

Regulus did.

Aria, upside-down over his shoulder, blinked at the floor. “Oh, that’s strange.”

“Stable?” Hooch asked.

“I am seeing life differently.”

“Useful?”

“Deeply.”

“Black, stand.”

Regulus stood.

Hooch made another note.

Sirius clapped slowly. “Regulus, you beautiful freak.”

Regulus shifted Aria down and set her on her feet. “Don’t encourage her.”

“You picked her up.”

“She negotiated.”

Aria patted his arm proudly. “He’s very reasonable when exploited correctly.”

Briar crossed her arms. “Food.”

“I promised.”

“You did.”

“On Barty’s life,” Pandora said cheerfully.

Barty pointed at her. “Stay out of my mortality.”

Hooch moved them into shuttle runs next.

The groan that rose from the class had enough depth and harmony to qualify as choral work.

“Oh, stop,” Hooch said. “You’re not being sent to war. Line up on the baseline. Sprint to the first cone and back, second cone and back, third cone and back. I’m watching acceleration, turning, breathing, and whether any of you have the survival instinct of a kneazle in a thunderstorm.”

“Do we want to have that?” Frank whispered.

Alice whispered back, “I think kneazles survive things.”

“Good.”

Peter raised a hand. “What if we don’t?”

“Then I will know.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

They lined up in groups.

James, Marlene, Sirius, Regulus, Dorcas, Lily, Frank, Evan, and Mary went first.

Aria stood right behind Regulus though she was not in the group.

Hooch pointed. “Parkinson. You are in the next set.”

Aria pressed herself against Regulus’s back, peering around his shoulder. “I’m with him spiritually.”

“You are with the next set physically.”

“Cruel distinction.”

Regulus glanced back. “You’ll survive thirty seconds.”

“I might not.”

“You can hide behind Briar.”

“Briar is slow.”

Briar, from the next line, lifted a hand. “And proud.”

Barty stood beside her, trying to look like he had not arranged himself there instantly. “I will protect you.”

Briar looked at him. “From running?”

“I will attempt to model leadership.”

Dorcas muttered, “He’s going to die.”

Hooch blew the whistle.

They went.

James exploded off the line with Quidditch confidence and immediately discovered that flat-ground sprinting required a different sort of relationship with his legs. He was fast, unquestionably, but too loose on the turn. His foot planted awkwardly at the first cone and he skidded wide.

Marlene nearly caught him there, faster than most and all teeth, but she cut too aggressively at the second cone, almost overbalanced, and had to slap one hand to the floor.

Sirius had speed but no discipline. He ran like laughter, wild and pretty and wasteful, reaching the cone with no plan except momentum.

Lily was steady. Dorcas was efficient. Evan was annoyingly elegant for someone doing the bare minimum. Frank tried very hard and made a pained sound at every turn. Mary ran like she had been insulted into motion and intended to file a complaint afterwards.

Regulus was different.

Regulus dropped forward at the whistle and became a line.

He accelerated hard, but cleanly. He reached the first cone, lowered, touched, pivoted tight, and came back without any flail, skid, or wasted step. At the second cone he adjusted before the turn, not after. At the third, he drove off one foot and cut back so sharply that James, halfway through recovering from his own turn, swore under his breath.

Regulus finished first by a ridiculous margin.

Not a small one.

Not the sort that could be excused with luck.

He was already slowing down when the others were still fighting their way back.

Hooch’s face lit like a match.

James crossed the line second, chest heaving. “I hate that.”

Marlene came in just after. “Same.”

Sirius bent over his knees, laughing. “Look at him. Tiny demon.”

Regulus looked almost bored. “You took the turns wrong.”

James straightened. “Excuse me?”

“You were too high.”

“I was sprinting.”

“You were bouncing.”

Marlene pointed at James. “He was bouncing.”

“You were skidding,” Regulus told her.

Marlene gasped. “I was attacking the cone.”

“It won.”

Sirius laughed harder.

James stared at Regulus, offended and delighted at once. “Run it again.”

Hooch said, “Later.”

James turned to her. “Madam—”

“No. Next group.”

Aria shuffled to the line beside Briar and Barty. Pandora joined them, along with Peter, Remus, Alice, Fabian, and Gideon.

Aria looked down the court at the cones as if they were a row of executioners.

“I don’t like that they get farther away.”

“That is the principle of distance,” Remus said.

“Don’t academic me while I’m vulnerable.”

Briar set her shoulders. “Slow and steady.”

Aria looked horrified. “That’s your plan?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a plan. That’s a surrender with comfortable shoes.”

“My comfortable shoes are doing their best.”

Barty rolled his shoulders and moved half a step closer to Briar. “Stay behind me. I’ll break the wind resistance.”

Pandora tilted her head. “You’re shaped more like a tragic branch than a shield.”

“Thank you, Pandora.”

“That wasn’t praise.”

“I reject your intention.”

Hooch blew the whistle.

Peter forgot to move for the first half-second, then startled into a sprint.

Fabian ran enthusiastically and then immediately forgot which cone he was meant to touch.

Gideon shouted, “First cone!”

“I know!”

“You’re running at the second!”

“I’ve committed!”

Alice moved with surprising neatness but slowed on the return, laughing despite herself.

Remus did what Remus always did when physical movement became a negotiation: he chose survival over pride, moving carefully and refusing to let anyone’s pace lure him into regret.

Briar went exactly as promised.

Slow. Steady. Minimal. Honest.

She touched the first cone with two fingers, turned like a tired but determined garden creature, came back breathing hard, and continued with the air of someone climbing a hill in a dream.

Barty attempted to stay near her, attempted to look protective, attempted to maintain grace, and discovered that attempting three things at once while sprinting was a poor strategy.

At the second cone, he bent to touch it, misjudged his own momentum, and stumbled three dramatic steps sideways.

Briar stopped. “Barty.”

“I’m fine,” he wheezed, one hand up. “Wind resistance.”

“There is no wind.”

“I broke it.”

Pandora drifted past them in a loose run, touched the cone, and said, “Maybe the wind broke you.”

Aria, meanwhile, made it to the first cone with shocking speed.

Then she stopped.

Bent over.

Hands on knees.

Breathing like a Victorian orphan in the rain.

Hooch shouted, “Parkinson, keep moving!”

Aria lifted one trembling hand. “I am no longer accepting instructions from the living realm.”

“Move.”

“I have known cruelty, Madam, but this is intimate.”

Regulus, standing off to the side with the first group, watched her with amusement flickering at the edges of his face.

Briar called, “Aria, come on.”

Aria looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. That’s why I’m telling you to move.”

“You sound like a motivational pamphlet.”

Barty, trying to jog back beside Briar and failing to make it look effortless, said, “Parkinson, if you quit, I win.”

Aria’s head snapped up.

There it was.

The brief, dangerous ignition.

“Oh?”

Regulus’s eyebrows rose.

Briar muttered, “Oh no.”

Aria straightened, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her face.

Then she bolted.

Not for long.

Not with endurance.

But for several seconds, she was fast.

So fast that Fabian actually yelped when she shot past him. She hit the second cone, turned badly but somehow folded through the motion with startling flexibility, nearly horizontal for half a heartbeat, and sprang back upright.

“What the hell?” Marlene said.

James pointed. “Did anyone else see that?”

“Unfortunately,” Barty snapped, trying to catch up and absolutely not catching up.

Aria reached the third cone, forgot to touch it, remembered, flung herself back with one hand, slapped it, screamed as if the cone had slapped back, and sprinted home on pure malice.

She crossed the line, immediately staggered into Regulus, and grabbed his shirt.

“I win.”

“You weren’t racing me,” Barty panted behind her.

“I was spiritually racing you.”

“You barely finished.”

“I finished before you.”

“I was caring for Briar.”

Briar, still jogging in behind them with dignity and exhaustion, said, “I did not ask you to do that.”

“I know. That is what makes it noble.”

“You nearly fell over me.”

“Love is risk.”

Briar bent over, hands on thighs. “Love needs water.”

Hooch was staring at Aria now with the look of a coach who had discovered a strange, poorly maintained weapon in a cupboard.

“Parkinson.”

Aria froze. “Yes, Madam?”

“What was that?”

“Spite.”

“Useful. Can you do it again?”

“No.”

Hooch made a note. “Explosive speed in short bursts. Flexibility under poor control. Strong reaction to competition.”

Aria looked at Regulus. “Am I being insulted?”

“You’re being assessed.”

“That feels worse.”

Hooch glanced up. “With training, you might do well in short sprints, agility drills, gymnastics, dance-based conditioning, even martial movement if you learn discipline.”

Aria stared at her.

Then at Regulus.

Then at Briar.

Then back at Hooch.

“Those all sound like exercise.”

“They are.”

“Then I respectfully decline my own potential.”

Hooch smiled thinly. “Your potential has been noted anyway.”

Aria whispered, “That’s ominous.”

Regulus said, “It is.”

“Protect me.”

“I am.”

“From Hooch.”

“No.”

“Betrayal.”

“Eat lunch.”

“Briar has infected you.”

Briar, still recovering, lifted a triumphant thumb.

The gym section came next.

This was not proper weight training yet, Hooch explained, because half of them needed to learn how not to injure themselves picking up their own schoolbags. Instead, they were doing basic bodyweight work, medicine ball passes, planks, wall sits, and light partner resistance.

The class received this news as though she had announced a public beheading.

“No,” Peter said quietly.

“Yes,” Hooch said.

“I wasn’t speaking to you. I was speaking to God.”

“Move.”

They moved.

Regulus, naturally, ruined the curve for everyone.

He held a plank so still that he looked carved out of the floor. He passed the medicine ball with clean force, caught it without flinching, adjusted his stance whenever Hooch corrected someone else as if absorbing the rules from the air. Wall sits did nothing visible to him except make him look mildly thoughtful.

James lasted well because James was athletic, but his pride kept making him do too much too quickly.

Marlene lasted through sheer competitive rage, glaring at Regulus as if his existence had become a personal training programme.

Sirius could do bursts of nearly everything, then got bored and started making faces at Remus until Hooch threatened to use him as a demonstration.

Remus did modified versions, jaw tight, and accepted Lily’s quiet, practical adjustments without making a show of it.

Lily was not the fastest or strongest, but she listened, corrected herself, and ended up looking far more competent than several people who had begun with more confidence.

Mary declared war on the wall sit within eleven seconds.

“Why is the wall involved?” she demanded, sliding lower against it.

“To support you,” Lily said.

“It’s doing a terrible job.”

“The wall is stationary.”

“So is my will to live.”

Alice shook through her plank, laughing helplessly every time Frank tried to encourage her.

“You’re doing brilliantly,” Frank said, trembling beside her.

“You sound like you’re dying.”

“I’m doing brilliantly too.”

Fabian and Gideon turned medicine ball passes into a brotherly feud almost immediately.

“Gentle,” Hooch barked.

Gideon caught the ball against his chest with an oof. “Tell him.”

“I threw gently.”

“You tried to send it through my ribs.”

“Your ribs lack team spirit.”

Pandora examined the medicine ball before passing it to Dorcas. “It feels like a very heavy fruit.”

Dorcas caught it. “Do not try to eat it.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You thought about it.”

“Only as a shape comparison.”

Evan lay briefly on his back after a set of sit-ups and stared at the ceiling. “I’ve decided I don’t believe in abdominal muscles.”

Dorcas stood over him. “Up.”

“No.”

“Up.”

“I’m reflecting.”

“You’re avoiding.”

“I can multitask.”

Barty had begun the gym portion with a determined look at Briar and a whispered, “Watch this.”

Briar had watched.

Barty had managed three press-ups, each one more tragic than the last.

On the fourth, his arms trembled, locked, betrayed him, and lowered him to the mat in a slow collapse.

He turned his face sideways, cheek to the floor, hair fallen over his eyes.

“I meant to do that.”

Briar crouched beside him, trying not to smile. “Why?”

“To demonstrate failure safely.”

“That was very safe.”

“Thank you.”

Aria, meanwhile, had fully committed to outsourcing labour.

“Regulus.”

“No.”

“I didn’t ask anything yet.”

“You were going to.”

She leaned against him, hands clasped under her chin. “You don’t know that.”

“You used my full name voice without the full name.”

“Maybe I was going to compliment you.”

“Were you?”

“No. Pick me up.”

Briar called from nearby, “Don’t let her get out of all of it.”

Aria looked horrified. “Why are you so committed to my downfall today?”

“I’m committed to your blood sugar.”

“My blood sugar wants to be carried.”

Regulus looked at Hooch.

Hooch looked back, already interested.

Regulus said, “Can I use her for partner resistance?”

Aria beamed.

Briar frowned. “Is that a trick?”

“Yes,” Hooch said. “Proceed.”

Regulus had Aria sit on his back while he did press-ups.

Aria sat cross-legged at first, like a tiny smug monarch on a moving throne, then shifted when Hooch told her not to unbalance his shoulders. She placed her hands lightly between his shoulder blades and leaned forward, eyes bright.

“This is my favourite subject.”

Regulus lowered and pushed up, controlled.

“You’re not doing anything,” Dorcas said.

Aria smiled. “I’m inspiring him.”

“You’re sitting.”

“Inspirationally.”

Barty, still on the mat, lifted his head just enough to glare. “I could sit on someone inspirationally.”

Briar patted his shoulder. “Maybe start with standing.”

He dropped his forehead back to the mat. “Cruel beloved.”

Regulus completed the set. Hooch told him to switch to squats again, then lunges, then controlled carries.

Aria hung over his shoulder. Then bridal-style. Then on his back. Then held in front of him while he performed careful lifts like she was a particularly talkative medicine ball.

She was, everyone noticed, astonishingly light.

Briar noticed most.

Her expression went quieter every time Regulus adjusted his grip too easily.

“You’re eating after,” she said again.

Aria, upside-down briefly as Regulus repositioned her over his shoulder, sighed. “Yes.”

“Something proper.”

“Yes.”

“Not just tea.”

“Yes.”

“And not just stealing two chips from my plate.”

Aria looked offended. “That was one time.”

“It was today.”

“That was practice.”

Barty pushed himself upright with enormous effort. “I would share my lunch with you, Briar.”

Briar glanced at him. “I know.”

He brightened.

“Because you hate half the food you take.”

His face fell.

Pandora, balancing a medicine ball on her palms, said, “Food rejection as courtship. Fascinating.”

Evan said, “That’s most pureblood marriages.”

Mary, passing behind them, muttered, “And they wonder why everyone’s miserable.”

Sirius heard and laughed under his breath.

Regulus heard too, but only glanced once at Sirius, who gave him a grin. Regulus’s expression softened into something quick and private before Aria poked his cheek.

“Excuse me. Focus on your equipment.”

“You are very demanding equipment.”

“I’m high quality.”

“You’re badly maintained.”

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

Briar pointed. “Exactly.”

Aria groaned. “This is bullying.”

Hooch clapped again. “Water. Two minutes. Then dodgeball.”

The entire hall changed atmosphere.

Some people perked up.

Some people went pale.

Some people, like Peter, whispered, “No,” again with renewed sincerity.

James rolled his shoulders. “Now this I can do.”

Marlene grinned. “Same.”

Lily gave them both a look. “It’s dodgeball, not a duel.”

“That’s quitter talk,” Marlene said.

Mary accepted a water bottle from Lily. “I refuse to be hit in the face.”

“You can dodge.”

“Can I? Is that legally confirmed?”

Alice took a drink, then looked at Frank. “Try not to apologise to the ball if it hits you.”

Frank frowned. “I can’t promise that.”

Fabian and Gideon were already debating strategy.

“We target James first,” Gideon said.

Fabian nodded. “Agreed.”

James pointed at them. “I can hear you.”

“Good,” Fabian said. “Fear is part of strategy.”

Sirius stretched his arms above his head. “I’m targeting whoever looks funniest when they panic.”

Aria, drinking water beside Regulus, froze.

Sirius smiled at her.

She slowly lowered the bottle. “Black.”

“Parkinson.”

“I will end you.”

“You have to hit me first.”

“I’ll bite you.”

“That is not dodgeball.”

“It is if I dodge the rules.”

Hooch’s whistle saved them from whatever Aria was about to say next.

“Teams of nine,” she called. “I’ll split you.”

Team One: Regulus, Aria, Briar, Sirius, Lily, Frank, Fabian, Dorcas, and Pandora.

Team Two: James, Peter, Remus, Mary, Marlene, Alice, Gideon, Barty, and Evan.

Barty stared at the arrangement.

“No.”

Hooch didn’t look up from her clipboard. “Yes.”

“No, with respect.”

“Mr Crouch, I am beginning to doubt you understand that phrase.”

“You put Briar on the other team.”

“I did.”

“And Regulus.”

“Yes.”

“And Parkinson.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve given them everything.”

Aria, from behind Regulus’s shoulder already, wiggled her fingers. “Hi.”

Barty looked at Briar. “I cannot attack you.”

Briar, who had moved to the far back of her team’s side, said kindly, “That’s fine. Someone else will.”

“That is worse.”

Marlene slapped a ball into Barty’s chest. “You can pine later. We need violence.”

Barty looked down at the ball, then across at Regulus standing calmly in front of Aria.

He lifted his chin. “Fine.”

Evan smiled faintly. “Oh, good. He’s going to make terrible decisions.”

Hooch walked between the teams and began laying out the rules.

“No headshots. If you are hit below the neck and the ball is not caught, you’re out. If someone catches your throw, you’re out and one of their players returns if they have anyone waiting. Boundaries are marked. No magic. No tackling. No arguing after the call. If I whistle, you stop.”

“Can we scream?” Aria asked.

Hooch looked at her. “I suspect you will whether I answer or not.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Briar stood at the back, hands folded, already spiritually seated.

Regulus glanced at her. “You’re planning something.”

“I am not.”

“You’re too calm.”

“I’m accepting my limitations.”

Aria peered around him. “She’s going to get out on purpose.”

Briar looked offended for one peaceful second. “I would never.”

“Briar.”

“I might.”

Barty clutched his chest from the opposite side. “Briar, no. Stay in. I’ll protect you from here.”

“You are on the other team.”

“My devotion has range.”

James bounced lightly on his toes. “Everyone ready?”

Peter stood behind Remus. “No.”

Remus glanced back. “Don’t use me as a wall.”

“You’re tall.”

“I’m breakable.”

Mary held a ball at her hip. “I have decided I am not above using betrayal.”

Alice smiled sweetly. “That sounds ominous.”

“It should.”

Marlene was already locked onto Regulus with the eyes of someone who wanted to prove something.

Sirius noticed. “Careful, McKinnon. He bites.”

Regulus said, “No, I don’t.”

Aria whispered loudly, “I do.”

Sirius pointed. “See? One of them.”

Hooch blew the whistle.

The first dodgeball game began like a storm falling indoors.

James grabbed a ball and threw hard at Fabian, who yelped and jumped sideways. The ball smacked the floor and bounced into the wall.

Fabian retaliated immediately, throwing at James with all the accuracy of a man trying to swat a fly with a chair. James ducked. The ball sailed past and nearly hit Peter who screamed.

“Wrong direction!” Gideon shouted.

“Morale damage!” Fabian shouted back.

Marlene threw at Sirius. Sirius spun out of the way, laughing, and the ball clipped the air where his ribs had been.

“Too slow!”

“I’m warming up!” Marlene snapped.

Lily caught a throw from Mary cleanly against her chest.

Mary stared. “Rude.”

“You threw it at me.”

“I didn’t expect consequences.”

Hooch pointed. “Macdonald, out.”

Mary gasped. “Already?”

“Caught ball. Out.”

Mary walked to the side with great dignity. “This sport lacks nuance.”

Briar watched Mary sit, considered the situation, then looked across the court at Alice.

Alice looked back.

Something silent passed between them.

Alice threw the softest, kindest, least threatening ball in the world.

Briar stepped directly into it.

It bounced off her thigh.

She lifted a hand. “Oh no.”

Hooch narrowed her eyes. “Rosewood.”

“I’ve been hit.”

“You moved into it.”

“Momentum is mysterious.”

“You’re out.”

Briar smiled serenely and went to sit beside Mary.

Mary looked her over. “Respect.”

Briar sat. “Thank you.”

Barty, betrayed beyond language, shouted, “Briar!”

She waved. “Good luck.”

“I was meant to protect you.”

“You can protect my memory.”

Pandora turned to Regulus. “Can memories be protected from dodgeballs?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

Aria remained behind Regulus.

Completely behind him.

At times only one eye and half her hair were visible around his shoulder.

Every time a ball came anywhere near her, her entire body reacted. Arms up. One knee lifted. Shoulders to ears. A full-body flinch like a startled cat in human form. The first time Sirius threw one lazily in her direction just to watch her jump, she screamed so dramatically that half the class looked over.

Regulus caught the ball one-handed.

The hall went still for a tiny second.

Sirius blinked.

Then grinned. “Nice.”

Regulus rolled the ball into his other hand. “Don’t target her.”

Aria peered around him, eyes huge. “Yes, don’t target me. I’m fragile.”

Sirius snorted. “You threatened to bite me.”

“Fragile things bite.”

Regulus threw.

The ball struck Sirius cleanly in the side.

Sirius looked down at the impact, then up at Regulus, scandalised.

Regulus’s expression was calm.

Aria erupted behind him. “Avenge me!”

“You weren’t hit,” Sirius said.

“I was emotionally hunted.”

Hooch pointed. “Sirius Black, out.”

Sirius backed towards the side, hands spread, laughing. “Betrayed by my own blood.”

Regulus shrugged. “You aimed at her.”

“I aimed near her.”

“Too near.”

Sirius sat beside Briar and Mary, still grinning. “Fair.”

Barty saw the opening and hurled a ball at Aria.

It was a good throw.

Fast. Direct. Petty.

Regulus shifted in front of her so quickly it barely looked like a decision. He caught the ball against his chest, twisted with the force, and snapped it back across the court.

Barty’s eyes widened.

The ball hit him square in the stomach.

He folded around it with a noise like the wind leaving a tragic accordion.

“Crouch, out,” Hooch called.

Aria peeked over Regulus’s shoulder, glowing with evil joy. “Oh, no. What happened?”

Barty, clutching his middle, glared as he staggered to the side. “You’re hiding behind him.”

“And winning.”

“He’s winning.”

“Through me.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes victory.”

Briar patted the floor beside her. “Sit down before you faint.”

Barty dropped beside her at once. “I was noble.”

“You were hit.”

“Heroically.”

“You threw at Aria.”

“To free Regulus.”

“From what?”

Barty looked at Aria, who was now clinging to the back of Regulus’s shirt and whispering strategy into it despite him plainly not needing any. “From that.”

Briar smiled into her water bottle. “You’re jealous.”

“I am politically concerned.”

Mary leaned around Briar. “About what?”

“Corruption.”

Sirius stretched out his legs. “Looks more like cuddling.”

Barty recoiled. “Do not say that.”

On the court, James had begun to take the game seriously.

This was both impressive and terrible.

He dodged Fabian’s next throw, scooped up a ball, and fired at Dorcas. Dorcas stepped aside with minimal effort, but the ball clipped her ankle on the bounce.

“Out,” Hooch called.

Dorcas gave James a cool look. “Fine.”

James blew her a cheerful kiss.

She pointed at him. “Sleep lightly.”

James stopped smiling. “Noted.”

Pandora, perhaps offended on Dorcas’s behalf or perhaps simply curious what would happen, picked up a ball and threw it with dreamy care.

It travelled beautifully for three feet.

Then veered, bounced, and rolled.

Pandora watched it go. “That was not what I imagined.”

Evan, from the opposite side, picked it up. “Was it meant to arrive by owl?”

Pandora’s eyes narrowed. “Mockery noted.”

Evan threw at her.

Pandora did not move.

Regulus reached out without looking and yanked her gently behind him by the back of her shirt.

The ball passed through the space where her shoulder had been and smacked into the wall.

Pandora blinked. “Oh.”

Regulus released her. “Move when they throw.”

“I was thinking.”

“Think sideways.”

She nodded solemnly. “Excellent advice.”

Aria gasped as another ball skidded towards them from Alice. She hopped on one foot, arms up, whole body folding sideways in a frantic, flexible twist. The ball passed under her raised leg.

Everyone stared.

Aria landed, nearly fell, grabbed Regulus’s arm, and shrieked, “I lived!”

Hooch’s pencil scratched.

Lily lowered her ball slowly. “How did she do that?”

Marlene looked impressed despite herself. “That was actually good.”

Aria, still clutching Regulus, looked around. “Was it?”

Regulus looked down at her. “Yes.”

She brightened instantly. “Say it again.”

“No.”

“Reg.”

“No.”

James grabbed another ball. “Don’t praise the enemy.”

“She dodged.”

“She screamed.”

“She did both,” Regulus said.

James threw at him.

Regulus caugt it.

James froze.

“Oh, come on.”

Regulus threw it back.

James dodged by pure instinct, the ball whipping past his side.

Marlene caught it behind him.

Regulus was out.

The hall erupted again.

Marlene shouted, “Yes!”

James spun and pointed at her. “That was mine.”

“You missed.”

“I created the opportunity.”

“You created wind.”

Hooch pointed at Regulus. “Black, out. McKinnon’s catch.”

Aria made a sound of absolute betrayal.

“No.”

Regulus glanced down at her. “You’ll be fine.”

“I will not.”

“You can dodge.”

“I can hide. There’s a difference.”

“Dodge behind someone else.”

She looked around.

Her team still had Lily, Frank, Fabian, Pandora.

Lily was already focused. Frank looked apologetic. Fabian looked delighted but unreliable. Pandora was examining the seam of a dodgeball.

Aria slowly turned back to Regulus.

“You’re leaving me with democracy.”

“Good luck.”

Regulus walked to the side.

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder as he sat. “Taken down by McKinnon. Shame.”

Regulus accepted a water bottle from him without looking bothered. “James missed.”

James shouted, “I heard that.”

“You were meant to.”

Sirius grinned. “Merlin, I love PE.”

“You’re out,” Remus said from the court.

“I can love things from afar.”

Aria now stood exposed.

The entire opposing team noticed.

Marlene smiled.

Aria lifted both hands. “I am soft and beloved. Don’t do this.”

Marlene wound up.

Aria screamed before the ball even left her hand.

Marlene threw.

Aria moved.

Not gracefully.

Not predictably.

She dropped, twisted, half-rolled sideways, one leg kicking up, hair flying, the ball skimming past her shoulder so close it ruffled her shirt.

She sprang up with a ball in her hand, face shocked by her own survival.

Then she threw it with all her strength.

The ball shot across the court like a curse.

Unfortunately, it aimed nowhere near Marlene.

It hit James.

In the thigh.

Hard.

James stared down at the mark.

Aria stared too.

Then she looked at her hand.

“Oh.”

Hooch pointed. “Potter, out.”

James opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Marlene doubled over laughing.

“You were aiming at me!” she shouted.

“I know!” Aria shouted back, horrified. “My arm chose violence elsewhere.”

Regulus, from the side, looked openly amused now.

Sirius leaned back on his hands. “That was brilliant.”

James walked off, betrayed, and sat hard beside Sirius. “Nobody speak to me.”

Sirius patted his knee. “You were struck by destiny.”

“I was struck by Parkinson.”

Aria yelled, “Sorry!”

James yelled back, “No, you’re not.”

Aria considered.

“No!”

Hooch’s delight sharpened further. “Parkinson, strong throw. Poor aim.”

Aria gave a small bow. “That does feel like my personality.”

Briar called, “Don’t be proud of that.”

“I’m proud of surviving.”

“That part is fine.”

The game continued.

With Regulus out, Team One became less a team and more a collection of separate disasters orbiting Lily Evans.

Lily played properly. She caught a wild throw from Gideon and brought Sirius back in, which made Sirius leap onto the court with theatrical resurrection.

“I live.”

Mary shouted from the side, “Against medical advice.”

Sirius immediately picked up a ball and aimed at Evan.

Evan moved lazily aside.

The ball hit Remus.

Sirius froze.

Remus looked at him slowly.

Sirius pressed a hand to his heart. “Friendly fire.”

“You are on the other team,” Remus said.

“Emotionally, though.”

“Out,” Hooch called.

Remus walked to the side with dignity and sat down. “Emotionally, you’re an idiot.”

Sirius smiled sweetly. “You missed me.”

“I was on the court thirty seconds ago.”

“And yet.”

Frank, meanwhile, managed to stay in far longer than expected by apologising while dodging.

Marlene threw at him.

He ducked. “Sorry.”

Alice threw at him.

He jumped back. “Sorry.”

Evan threw at him.

He stumbled sideways and the ball missed. “Sorry.”

Hooch stared. “Longbottom, stop apologising to successful evasions.”

“Sorry, Madam.”

Alice laughed so hard she got clipped by Fabian’s throw.

“Alice, out,” Hooch called.

Fabian shouted, “I did something!”

Gideon shouted, “Finally!”

Fabian turned to celebrate and got hit by Marlene.

“Prewett, out.”

Fabian’s arms dropped. “I did one thing.”

Gideon nodded solemnly from the opposing side. “And history will remember it.”

Pandora lasted by accident.

People kept hesitating to throw at her because she seemed entirely untroubled by the game and no one wanted to be responsible for what might happen if they activated her curiosity. Eventually Evan threw low and slow.

Pandora stepped over it.

Then she picked up a ball, smiled serenely, and said, “I understand now.”

Dorcas, from the side, said, “I doubt that.”

Pandora threw.

It missed Evan, missed Gideon, missed Marlene, bounced off the floor, ricocheted off the wall, and rolled directly into Peter’s ankle.

Peter looked down.

Hooch pointed. “Pettigrew, out.”

Peter’s face collapsed in relief. “Oh, thank Merlin.”

Pandora lifted both hands in triumph. “Geometry.”

Dorcas closed her eyes. “That was luck.”

“Geometry is luck with angles.”

Aria, emboldened by Regulus’s return when Lily caught another ball, resumed her position behind him the second he stepped back onto the court.

“You came back.”

“Lily caught.”

“You came back to me.”

“I came back to the game.”

“With me in it.”

“Unfortunately.”

She beamed. “He missed me.”

Regulus picked up a ball and did not deny it.

The moment changed after that.

With Regulus back, Team One became dangerous.

He did not play like the others. James and Marlene threw with brute competitiveness. Sirius threw with theatrical instinct. Lily threw with neat concentration. Evan threw with lazy precision when he bothered. But Regulus watched.

He tracked shoulders, feet, hips, timing.

He saw who looked before throwing and who didn’t. He saw who dodged left first. He saw how Marlene overcommitted after a fake, how Gideon planted before throwing, how Evan only moved when necessary.

When someone targeted Aria, he punished it.

Marlene threw at her again.

Aria shrieked and ducked behind him, arms over her head, one leg lifting uselessly like a shield.

Regulus caught Marlene’s throw and sent it back low and fast.

Marlene jumped.

The ball clipped her shin.

“McKinnon, out.”

Marlene pointed at Aria as she left. “You’re lucky you have a guard dog.”

Aria peeked from behind Regulus. “He’s more like a haunted knife.”

Sirius laughed from their side. “Accurate.”

Regulus said, “Focus.”

Aria immediately straightened. “Yes, haunted knife.”

Barty made a wounded choking sound from the side. “He lets her call him things.”

Briar handed him water. “Drink.”

“I am drinking resentment.”

“Water first.”

Evan aimed at Aria next, perhaps because he wanted to test the pattern.

Regulus moved.

But Aria moved too.

She saw the ball late, made an inhuman squeak, folded sideways with both arms up, and the ball passed under her elbow. In the same burst, she snapped a throw back at Evan.

It missed him completely.

But it was so hard that it smacked into Gideon before he could react.

Gideon looked stunned.

Fabian, from the side, screamed, “My brother!”

Gideon turned. “You laughed when I fell yesterday.”

“That was different. I caused that.”

Hooch pointed. “Gideon Prewett, out.”

Aria blinked. “I hit someone I wasn’t aiming at again.”

Regulus said, “Adjust your wrist.”

“What?”

“Your wrist. You’re pulling across your body.”

She held up her hand like it had betrayed her. “This thing?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t trust it.”

“Give me the ball.”

She handed it to him.

He placed it back in her hand, stepped behind her, adjusted her grip with brisk, careful fingers, and angled her shoulders.

Across the court, Barty sat upright so violently Briar had to grab his sleeve.

“No.”

Briar tugged him back down. “Let her learn.”

“From Regulus?”

“Who is good.”

“That’s the issue.”

Regulus kept his attention on the court. “Don’t throw with your whole arm. Step. Aim through the target, not at it.”

Aria’s eyes narrowed at Evan.

Evan’s mouth lifted. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Dorcas said from the side. “Her aim is terrible.”

Aria threw.

This time the ball went where she wanted.

Not perfectly.

Not elegantly.

But close enough that Evan had to move quickly, and when he moved, Lily caught him with a second ball from the side.

“Rosier, out,” Hooch called.

Evan looked from Lily to Aria to Regulus.

“That was coordinated.”

Lily smiled. “Yes.”

Aria gasped. “I did sport.”

Regulus looked down at her. “You followed instructions.”

“Is that sport?”

“Sometimes.”

“Awful.”

Hooch was writing so fast now the pencil looked endangered.

The final players narrowed.

Team One had Regulus, Aria, Lily, Sirius, Frank, and Pandora.

Team Two had Alice brought back by a catch, Mary brought back after Marlene’s earlier catch, Barty brought back after Evan caught a ball before going out, and Marlene returned through another chain of catches because dodgeball had become increasingly ridiculous.

Briar remained peacefully out and had no intention of returning.

“Don’t catch anything,” she told Barty when he looked over.

He pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m Barty.”

“Don’t.”

He smiled, stupidly pleased with himself.

Mary groaned. “I hate watching people flirt during combat.”

Sirius threw a ball at her.

She dodged, offended. “See? Combat.”

Marlene went for Lily.

Lily dodged but stumbled slightly.

Regulus caught Marlene’s second throw before it could hit her.

Marlene threw both hands up. “Oh, come on.”

Regulus threw back at Alice instead.

Alice yelped and twisted away, but the ball clipped her hip.

“Fortescue, out.”

Frank looked stricken. “Alice.”

Alice smiled at him as she went. “Win for me.”

Frank’s face changed with terrifying sincerity.

“Oh,” Sirius said. “She’s activated him.”

Frank picked up a ball with both hands.

Marlene paused. “Why does he look like that?”

Frank threw.

It hit Mary.

Mary stared at him as though he had stabbed her at dinner.

“Frank.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Macdonald, out.”

“I said sorry!”

Mary walked off. “That doesn’t un-hit me.”

Frank looked at Alice in panic.

Alice gave him two thumbs up.

He relaxed, then immediately got hit by Barty.

“Longbottom, out.”

Frank sighed. “That’s fair.”

Barty stood with a ball in hand, hair damp at his temples, chest heaving, still trying to look like the kind of man who could protect someone in PE and not like the kind of man who had been emotionally dismantled by jogging.

He looked at Regulus.

Regulus looked back.

Aria whispered from behind Regulus, “He’s going to do something dramatic.”

“He always does.”

“I heard that,” Barty called.

“You were meant to,” Regulus said.

Sirius, to Lily, murmured, “He says that like a family curse.”

Lily said, “It might be.”

Barty lifted the ball. “Parkinson.”

Aria peeked out. “Crouch.”

“Face me.”

“No.”

“Coward.”

“Yes.”

Briar laughed from the side.

Barty’s focus immediately flicked to her.

Regulus threw.

The ball hit Barty in the thigh.

Barty looked down slowly.

Then up.

Regulus’s face remained mild.

Hooch pointed. “Crouch, out.”

Barty inhaled.

“Manipulation,” he said.

Regulus shrugged. “You looked away.”

“At love.”

“At Briar.”

“Same thing.”

Briar hid her smile behind her knees as Barty came back to sit beside her in utter defeat.

“That was romantic,” Pandora told him from the court.

Barty glared. “How?”

“You were felled by devotion.”

Mary nodded. “Tragic. Beautiful. Embarrassing.”

The final stretch belonged to Regulus.

Marlene fought like a creature born in a thunderstorm, but she was tired, and flat court movement had stripped away some of the advantage Quidditch gave her. James, already out, coached from the side until Hooch told him to stop giving illegal instructions.

“Illegal?” James protested. “I’m building team spirit.”

“You contain detention if you continue.”

James sat down.

Sirius threw himself into reckless dodges, laughing the entire time, and managed to take Marlene out with a wild shot that bounced off her shoulder just as she turned.

Marlene swore and went to the side.

Pandora, somehow still in, was eventually removed when she tried to catch a ball by studying its spin instead of closing her hands.

It bounced off her chest.

She looked down. “Interesting.”

“Out,” Hooch said.

“Disappointing.”

That left Regulus, Aria, Sirius, and Lily against James, who had been brought back by Marlene before her elimination.

James stood alone on the opposite side.

His glasses had slipped down his nose. His curls were damp. His grin was bright enough to count as a health hazard.

“Right,” he said. “All of you versus me. Seems fair.”

Sirius picked up a ball. “You’re about to be humbled.”

“I don’t do humbled.”

“You’re about to start.”

Lily lifted a brow. “James, you have three balls on your side.”

“And heroic spirit.”

Regulus said, “Spirit won’t help if you keep telegraphing your throws.”

James pointed at him. “I am not telegraphing.”

“You look where you aim.”

“Everyone looks where they aim.”

“No.”

James looked at Sirius. “Do I?”

Sirius winced. “Sometimes.”

“Betrayal.”

Aria whispered to Regulus, “I also look where I aim.”

“You look everywhere.”

“I’m complex.”

Hooch blew the whistle to resume.

James moved first, grabbing two balls and launching one at Sirius, one at Lily in quick succession.

Sirius dodged. Lily caught.

James swore.

“Potter, out,” Hooch said.

Lily lowered the ball with a satisfied smile.

“That’s game.”

Aria blinked. “We won?”

Regulus looked down at her. “Yes.”

“I won dodgeball?”

“You mostly hid.”

“Strategically.”

“You screamed.”

“Morale.”

“You missed.”

“And yet people fell.”

Sirius walked over, ruffled Regulus’s hair, and dodged the immediate elbow Regulus aimed at his ribs.

“Good game, haunted knife.”

Regulus swatted his hand away. “Don’t start.”

Aria gasped. “That’s my name for him.”

Sirius grinned at her. “Shared custody.”

“I will bite you.”

“You keep promising.”

Hooch’s whistle cut through the argument before Aria could make good on it.

“Bring it in.”

They gathered again, sweatier, redder, and in several cases spiritually altered.

Briar returned from the side looking deeply pleased with her decision to exit early. Barty hovered near her, trying to seem like he had not spent most of the match narrating his emotional collapse. Evan moved with a lazy roll of his shoulders. Dorcas looked composed. Pandora looked thoughtful. The Gryffindors came in laughing, complaining, accusing one another of betrayal, and rubbing places where soft balls had left stinging marks.

Hooch stood before them with her clipboard.

“Well,” she said.

The single word carried immense judgment.

Peter gulped.

Mary whispered, “I don’t like her tone.”

Hooch glanced over the board. “As expected, the baseline is… varied.”

“That means bad,” Fabian whispered.

“It means varied,” Lily whispered back.

“It means bad with manners.”

Hooch continued, “Some of you have strong sport-specific habits that do not transfer cleanly to general athletics.”

James looked personally attacked.

Marlene crossed her arms.

“Some of you have better coordination than stamina. Some have effort but poor control. Some have flexibility and speed in bursts but no conditioning. Some of you are attempting to negotiate with exercise as though it will accept bribes.”

Mary lifted a hand. “Would it?”

“No.”

She lowered it. “Shame.”

“Some of you,” Hooch said, eyes flicking to Briar, “understand pacing.”

Briar smiled faintly, still flushed. “Thank you, Madam.”

“And some of you understand pacing as a way to do as little as possible while technically complying.”

Briar’s smile became serene. “Also thank you, Madam.”

Barty looked at her like she had hung the moon.

Hooch’s eyes moved to Aria. “Parkinson.”

Aria straightened instantly, one hand still tucked around Regulus’s arm. “I didn’t do it.”

“I haven’t accused you yet.”

“Then I’m early.”

“You have poor endurance, poor consistency, questionable effort, and a very creative relationship with avoidance.”

Aria nodded solemnly. “That feels fair.”

“You also have unusual short-burst speed, flexibility, strong throwing power, and excellent panic-dodging.”

Aria slowly brightened.

Regulus murmured, “Panic-dodging.”

She whispered back, “I’m gifted.”

“With training,” Hooch said, “you could be useful in agility-based sports. Short-distance sprinting. Gymnastics foundations. Possibly netball or handball if your aim stops behaving like a curse. Dodgeball, if you learn not to hide behind someone for half the game.”

Aria looked horrified. “But hiding is my best feature.”

“It is not.”

Regulus said, “It’s top five.”

She looked up at him, delighted. “Top five?”

“I was being generous.”

“I’ll take it.”

Hooch’s gaze shifted. “Rosewood.”

Briar braced herself.

“Low stamina, low speed, but sensible pacing and decent body awareness. You listened to instruction and didn’t injure yourself trying to impress anyone.”

Barty winced.

Briar did not look at him. “Thank you, Madam.”

“That is not a small thing in this room.”

Remus muttered, “Hear, hear.”

Hooch’s eyes moved on. “Crouch.”

Barty lifted his chin.

“You need conditioning.”

His chin lowered slightly.

“You also need to stop performing at people and start listening to your own body before it removes you from the activity.”

Briar whispered, “Told you.”

Barty whispered back, “I was heroic.”

“You were purple.”

“It’s a noble colour.”

“Rosier,” Hooch said.

Both Evan and Pandora said, “Yes?”

Hooch looked between them. “Evan first. Coordination acceptable, effort inconsistent, skill hard to measure when you treat every activity like a social inconvenience.”

Evan inclined his head. “That seems accurate.”

“Pandora. Flexibility acceptable, stamina uncertain, attention fascinating and occasionally dangerous. Do not study a ball instead of catching it.”

Pandora nodded. “Noted.”

“Meadowes. Controlled, steady, good awareness. Could do well in defensive positions or technical sports if interested.”

Dorcas nodded once.

“Gryffindors,” Hooch said, and several of them straightened instinctively. “Potter, McKinnon. Athletic, competitive, strong drive. Both of you need to learn that Quidditch fitness is not universal fitness.”

James and Marlene both objected at once.

“It should be—”

“I was fine—”

Hooch lifted a hand and they shut up.

“Black,” she said.

Sirius grinned. “Which one?”

Regulus and Sirius both looked at her.

Hooch did not smile. “The loud one.”

Sirius put a hand over his heart. “Honoured.”

“Fast, reactive, no discipline today. You wasted movement for fun.”

“It was fun.”

“It was wasteful.”

“Also fun.”

“Lupin,” Hooch said, moving on before Sirius could get worse. “Good judgment. Continue modifying when needed. Evans, solid technique, good listening, reliable improvement. Macdonald, capable of more effort than you are willing to admit.”

Mary gasped. “Slander.”

“Pettigrew, foundation conditioning. Longbottom, better evasive instincts than expected. Fortescue, good coordination when laughing does not interfere. Prewetts, separate yourselves whenever possible.”

Fabian and Gideon looked at each other.

“That feels targeted,” Fabian said.

“It is,” Hooch replied.

Then her eyes landed on Regulus.

The hall seemed to know it.

Even the people whispering went quiet.

“Regulus Black.”

Aria squeezed his arm with both hands as if presenting him.

Regulus stood still.

Hooch looked down at the clipboard, then back at him. “Speed, reflexes, balance, coordination, agility, throwing accuracy, catching, reaction time, body control, strength relative to size, and tactical awareness all significantly above this group’s baseline.”

James muttered, “Significantly.”

Marlene muttered, “I hate significantly.”

Sirius’s grin flashed wide.

Regulus said nothing.

Hooch continued, “Your turns in the shuttle runs were clean. You adapted quickly to flat-ground movement. You corrected others accurately. You maintained form under added load. In dodgeball, you read the court better than anyone else here.”

Aria looked around smugly like she had personally invented him.

Barty looked pained.

Briar nudged him.

He whispered, “I am proud and angry.”

“That’s allowed.”

“It’s confusing.”

“That’s also allowed.”

Hooch tapped the clipboard. “You are almost certainly moving up once I finalise the first round of assessments.”

Aria’s face fell. “Moving up?”

Barty immediately perked up, then caught himself and tried to look solemn.

Regulus glanced at Hooch. “To a different class?”

“Likely an advanced athletics and multi-sport group. We’ll see after the unit continues.”

Aria tightened around his arm. “No.”

Hooch gave her a dry look. “You do not get a vote.”

“I should.”

“You do not.”

“He’s my shield.”

“He is not a curriculum resource.”

Aria looked at Regulus. “Tell her.”

Regulus’s eyes flicked down to her. “I’m not a curriculum resource.”

“Not that bit.”

“You can dodge.”

“Barely.”

“You hit James.”

“By accident.”

“Still counts.”

James called, “It does not count emotionally.”

Lily said, “It counted on the scoreboard.”

James looked wounded. “Et tu, Evans?”

Lily smiled. “Especially me.”

Hooch let the noise swell for three seconds before blasting her whistle.

They all shut up.

“For next lesson,” she said, “you will bring your PE kits, water, and a better attitude if you can locate one. We continue athletics. More running, more agility work, and an introduction to basic gym technique.”

A collective groan rose.

Hooch smiled.

It was not comforting.

“Dismissed.”

The hall broke apart at once.

Peter went directly to Remus. “Can we go somewhere with chairs?”

Remus nodded. “I have never wanted a chair more.”

Mary pointed at Lily. “You are never allowed to mention petitions again.”

Lily laughed. “You wanted more lessons.”

“I wanted justice. Not lunges.”

Marlene walked backwards in front of James, pointing at him. “You got hit by Aria.”

James pointed back. “She wasn’t aiming at me.”

“That makes it funnier.”

“It makes it invalid.”

“It makes it art.”

Alice slipped her hand into Frank’s. “You avenged me.”

Frank blushed. “I hit Mary.”

Mary, passing them, said, “And I will remember.”

Frank paled. “Sorry.”

Fabian slung an arm around Gideon’s shoulders. “We survived.”

Gideon shoved him off. “You fell.”

“And rose.”

“You ran to the wrong cone.”

“With ambition.”

“Without comprehension.”

Sirius wandered over to Regulus, still grinning, and lightly bumped his shoulder against him. “Advanced group.”

Regulus adjusted the hem of his green-trimmed top, expression composed but not untouched. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know when Hooch looks like she’s found a weapon.”

Aria, still attached to Regulus, said, “That’s what I called him.”

“A haunted knife,” Sirius said. “Not a weapon.”

“A knife is a weapon.”

“Not if it’s haunted decoratively.”

Regulus looked between them. “This conversation is useless.”

Sirius smiled at him. “You say that like it’s new.”

Aria narrowed her pale green eyes at Sirius. “Stop making him smile. It’s unsettling when you do it.”

Sirius looked delighted. “Jealous?”

“I’d rather swallow a Bludger.”

“I’d pay to see you try.”

Regulus quietly moved his arm before Aria could lunge.

She made an indignant noise but allowed herself to be stopped, which said more about how tired she was than anything else.

Briar arrived then, still flushed and looking exhausted but satisfied, and placed a hand on Aria’s shoulder.

“Food.”

Aria slumped instantly against Regulus. “Carry me.”

“No,” Briar said.

Regulus said, “You promised.”

Aria looked up at him through her lashes. “What if I’m too weak?”

“Then eating will help.”

Barty appeared beside Briar, hair still damp, expression arranged into something tragic and noble. “I can escort you both.”

Aria smiled sweetly. “I thought you didn’t share.”

Barty’s eye twitched.

Briar linked her fingers through his before he could answer. “You can walk with me.”

He became uselessly pleased at once. “I can do that.”

“You can also drink more water.”

“I can do that too.”

Pandora drifted up beside Evan and Dorcas, holding a dodgeball she had somehow not returned.

Dorcas looked at it. “Why do you have that?”

Pandora looked down. “Oh.”

Evan said, “She bonded with it.”

“I’m thinking about geometry,” Pandora said.

“Return it before Hooch turns you into a cautionary tale.”

Pandora sighed and wandered back to the rack.

Hooch, watching from across the hall, had her clipboard tucked under one arm and the expression of a woman who had just found an entire year group’s weaknesses and one small, green-trimmed exception.

Regulus stood in the middle of the new sports hall with Aria hugging his arm, Briar waiting with patient concern, Barty sulking less effectively now that Briar was holding his hand, Evan half-amused, Dorcas composed, Pandora returning stolen equipment, and the Gryffindors loudly reliving every embarrassing second of the lesson behind them.

The hall smelled of rubber and varnish and sweat now.

Less new.

More Hogwarts.

James was still insisting Aria’s hit should not count. Marlene was still insisting it counted more because it was accidental. Sirius was laughing. Remus was asking if they could please leave before someone suggested another lap. Peter was pale with relief. Lily was pretending not to enjoy having been right about the usefulness of PE. Mary was already composing her verbal complaint. Alice was teasing Frank gently. Fabian and Gideon were threatening to race each other and neither looked capable of surviving it.

Aria tugged Regulus’s arm. “You’re carrying me to lunch.”

“No.”

“You carried me while running.”

“That was training.”

“This is recovery.”

“You can walk.”

“I’m fragile.”

“You’re fast in bursts.”

“Exactly. The burst is over.”

Briar pointed towards the doors. “Lunch.”

Aria sighed like a doomed princess and finally peeled herself off Regulus’s arm, though she immediately took hold of his sleeve instead.

Barty watched this happen with visible pain.

Regulus noticed.

Aria noticed him noticing.

Her grin returned, slow and wicked.

She leaned into Regulus’s side, lifted one leg behind her again, and fluttered her fingers at Barty.

Barty’s jaw tightened. “Parkinson.”

“Crouch.”

“I hope next lesson you’re moved down.”

“I hope next lesson you trip in front of Briar again.”

Briar frowned. “Again?”

Barty’s face changed. “No.”

Aria’s grin widened. “Oh?”

Regulus, merciful for once, started walking.

Aria was dragged half a step with him, laughing.

Behind them, Hooch looked down at her clipboard one last time.

Under Regulus Black’s name, she had written three words and underlined them twice.

Advanced. Immediate candidate.

Under Aria Parkinson’s, she had written rather more.

Poor endurance. Strong burst speed. Highly flexible. Hard throw. Weak aim. Motivated by rivalry, protection, and attention. Possible training prospect if fed first.

Then, after a pause, she added one final note.

Do not pair with Regulus Black unless willing to lose all control of lesson structure.

Hooch capped her pencil.

The first PE lesson was over.

The damage, she suspected, had only just begun.