#flora carrow

 You may remember, reader, that last chapter I said I would often ignore the rules of time-space for the sake of the story. This is another of those situations, so please follow me backwards and sideways, to Kings Cross Station, early in the morning of September First, Nineteen-Eighty-Nine.

 This is another beginning, and again, you'll have to guess of what.

 There's a family of three, all female, all redheads, who are some of the first through the barrier.

 Amelia Bones, whom you met last chapter, and her girls, Susan and Delphi. Right now, Susan is all of nine years old, and Delphi is eleven.

 Amelia, since I didn't tell you earlier, has russet curls and a stress-aged face. She’s only fifty-six, which in wizard years is extremely young, but, as I said.

 Personally, I think she looks more refined.

 Susan is her niece, and Delphi her… cousin-ever-so-many-times-removed? Daughter? I mentioned that maps were wonky here? Try family trees. It wouldn’t be a problem, except everything is adoption.

 On topic though! Susan has the orange shade of red hair, but not very bright. She also has an adorable half-up ponytail with bangs, which Delphi helped her put in that morning.

 Susan’s eyes are blue, like Amelia’s, but Delphi’s are not.

 Have you figured out who is who yet?

 No?

 Let’s go.

 Delphini doesn’t plan to tell anyone her name until she has to, so neither will I. It’s this thought that keeps her from panicking as Amelia takes her to the train station. She knows no one will look at her and think Evil, but she's worried about what they'll do when they hear her name.

 She clings to Amelia when they arrive. Since they’re so early, Delphi is one of the first to reach the Hogwarts Express. She takes her trunk with her, and in a deliberate move against her parents, keeps her artificial octopus in the crook of her elbow.

 She had lain awake with her younger family, most of them coming to Hogwarts in two years, for many nights, wondering how she would survive going into this alone. None of her cousins, even the adopted magicals, were going to be at Hogwarts when she would be. Well, that’s not true, strictly, but Delphi hasn’t had contact with Alicia in a year and she worries that with age comes hate.

 It’s not an unfounded worry. But in this case, it just means Delphi has to use her own plan, the one made with the help of stubborn nine-year-olds and a single creative fourteen year old. The only hole in this plan of hers is that it won’t work after the sorting, so Delphi has to hope the old belief that you’ll meet your best friends (and sometimes your worst enemies) on the Hogwarts Express will turn out to be true. 

 It has so far; I’m rooting for her.

 The family reach the carriage door in time for Amelia’s watch, a portkey with a protean charm and a few other surprises, to begin chiming. Amelia jumps and fumbles to look at the screen, while Delphi and Susan share a look. Delphi feels her heart sink.

 See, Delphi remembers Amelia more than her blood parents, and she knows her caretaker, aunt, mother- she knows Amelia, and so she knows that Amelia will ensure the girls’ safety and then return to her duties. It hurts, even though she knows instinctively that Amelia loves her anyway.

 Amelia, meanwhile, was scanning the crowds for someone she could entrust with Delphi. Sadly, the number’s really, really small.  See, I haven’t said her name yet, and I won’t confirm any guesses until her friends know too, but suffice to say that Delhpi’s name carries weight, just of the kind no child wants to bear.

 “Andromeda, thank goodness!”

 Delphi’s aunt and cousin hurry over at the call. Dora is going into her sixth year, and is the only other metamorphmagus Delphini knows. “What happened, Amelia?” Andromeda Tonks asks as they converge.

 Andromeda is tall, with long, dark brown curls, white skin tanned by days chasing her daughter in the sun, and the hereditary grey eyes.

 “They’re trying to call me in, can you make sure Delphi is okay for departure?” Amelia asks.

 “Of course.” Andromeda assures. Delphi tries to smile, but it falls flat.

 Amelia crouches down to look at her eldest child, blue eyes soft. Delphi’s eyes change from inherited grey to the same navy blue, the only thing belaying her nerves. “It’ll be okay. The teachers shouldn’t allow any attacks, and if they do, write me. I’ll take care of it, I promise.” Amelia leans forwards to kiss Delphi’s forehead. “Listen to the sorting hat, I don’t care what house you’re in, as long as you’re happy.” Delphi nods, eyes stinging and vision blurring. “I love you,” Amelia says seriously.

 Delphi surges forward to hug her, before pulling away to wipe her eyes. “I’ll make you proud.”

 “Only by doing your best, I hope.” Amelia’s watch buzzes more urgently, and she relinquishes Delphi to Andromeda. “I’ll look for letters tomorrow.”

 Delphi nods, curling into her aunt’s side. As soon as Amelia and Susan have left, and Delphi is done mournfully watching their backs, Dora nudges her with a grin. “You know, I’ve always thought it would be great fun to have two metamorphs in the Sett.”

 Delphi grins back, a little brittle, but trying to reciprocate her cousin’s optimism. “Not afraid of me stealing your schtick?”

 “As if you could,” Dora challenges, hair popping to a brighter pink and streaking yellow and black through it. Dora has always been more free with her metamorph abilities. Today, the sixteen-year-old has blue eyes like her father, fair skin like her mom, and once-pink-blonde-hair gone bright. In contrast, Delphi keeps hers close to her chest unless she’s challenging Dora.

 Dora’s grin is wider, so Delphi streaks her own ponytail with all four house colors - a dark green, a bright yellow, a solid blue, and a lighter red. Gryffindor’s is hardest to see against her usual chosen color of cherry.

 The girls continue like this for a few minutes, until one of Dora’s friends arrives. When Charlie Weasley pops up, Delphi yanks her features back into herself and leaves her cousin to it.

 She finds a compartment quickly. She knows nothing about it, and as she runs her fingers across the leather seats, she breathes deeply because it was her choice . She doesn't know which compartment her parents used, and even if this one is it, it does not and will not feel like it.

 Growing up, her cousin Regulus offered to tell her stories of her parents, or even of her cousins, but Delphi refused. She didn't want to hear about the bright children who grew up to be monsters, and she still doesn't. She listens when Uncle Regulus tells stories to the rest of the children, because she knows those are for entertainment and not an attempt to connect her to parents she doesn't want to know.

 (Regulus, naturally, stopped trying when she told him that outright, merely saying that if she changed her mind to tell him. He has rarely brought up stories centering on her mother since).

 Delphi sits down in the seat by the window instead of the door, with her trunk in the overhang, and feels at peace because she is going to learn the castle mostly on her own. She's not going to look at a window and think 'this is where my parents were caught torturing a cat' or 'this is where my parents' first kiss was recorded'. She'll never think 'So many carriages away from the engine, this is where my mom rode her first year'. No. She'll think 'this is the hallway Uncle Regulus and his friends once saw turned into a swamp', and know that it was funny once but doesn't concern her.

 This makes Delphi smile, and she looks out the window with Leonis on her arm and hope in her eyes.

 Dora and Charlie are still talking on the platform, and there are a bunch of redheads around them who Delphi assumes are Charlie's family. She is right. The Weasleys, remember them? They, as they are wont to do, are seeing off their children with as much of the family as can come, even little eight year old Ginevra. Their red is more of a shaggy orange, like carrots or cheese chips. Or Arnold, if you remember the original Magic School Bus cartoon. I suppose references like that depend on the reader.

 Delphi's is, as mentioned, cherry. She looks rather more like Lily Potter, if you also remember.

 I’m beginning to hope you have a decent memory.

 The platform fills and empties in turns for the next three hours, and Delphi spends most of that time watching out the window and changing the colors of her nails. Contrary to what Dora would suggest, Metamorphi aren't all the human equivalent to mood rings. Some, like Dora, were morphing as infants and have strong magic tied into their looks, strong enough that they have to change often to use it up. A biological form is debatable, and usually built from what they see in family. Some, who you probably won't meet here, have to always focus on their current look, and can revert back to a biological form when either their focus fails or they spend their magic. And others, like Delphi, don't have a biological form. Any shifts they do will require matching effort to undo, for they are permanent.

 Delphi has spent most of her life practicing for precise morphs. She doesn’t have streaks in her hair anymore, because she willed the strands back to red. So as she turns her nails blue and then spirals white through them, it’s not a spell, but focus that she uses.

 At two hours to departure, Delphi is joined by twin girls. They’re identical twins, as happens so often in pureblood families. The genes are already strong, and twins rarely have more visible individuality than other siblings would. These two are brunette, with smooth, collarbone-length hair that Delphi finds unfairly cute. She thinks her own ponytail makes her look a little too drawn up for her age, but it’s her favorite hairstyle and she can pull it off much better than she can pull off Hannah’s pigtails. Or put it in quicker, at least.

 Delphi stops thinking about how cute their hair is, and instead smiles at the twin closest to her. “Hello.”

 “Hello,” the closer twin replies, sounding wary but open. “I’m Hestia Carrow, and this is Flora. May we join you?”

 The wariness makes sense, very suddenly. Delphi nearly stumbles over her words as she replies. “Of course! There’s plenty of room, as I’m sure you noticed.” She doesn’t even consider turning them away, because Carrow was a name ruined in the war, much like Delphini’s own. Hestia smiles tightly, and Flora smiles awkwardly, but they do come inside.

 They place their trunks in the overhead compartments, and then sit down, Flora across from Delphi, by the window, and Hestia beside her, too close to be in the middle of the bench. It’s quiet for a few minutes, and Delphi nervously changes the color of her nails again. This time, they turn seashell pink. She finishes smoothing the color, and darkens it by her cuticles, and then decides to fill the silence.

 She’s pretty sure being allergic to awkward silences is a Bones trait.

 “This is Leonis,” she announces, holding up the artificial octopus she’s had since before she lost her parents. His original name had been something like Luslus, but Delphi was able to rename him last summer with Uncle Regulus’ help. “I think he’s the only good thing my parents gave me, other than my name and life.” Delphi sets him back on her lap. He’s a faded orange, looking like a transfigured fox more than anything, but she loves him. She plays with his articulated tentacles as she continues speaking. “I turned him purple once, because my sister spilt grape juice on him and I hated the way the colors mixed. Another time, my cousin turned him blue because she was trying to remember the word for water and all she could remember was the color and that octupi live in it.” She moves to pet his crown, increasingly happy she brought him with. He had been there for a long time, and she hopes he will be for longer still.

 There’s another moment of quiet between the trio, as the twins digest Delphi’s word vomit. “How old is your sister?” Flora asks.

 Delphi smiles, feeling elated and accomplished because her olive branch is being returned. “She’s nine! Her name is Susan and she says if she’s not a Hufflepuff she’ll transfer to Beauxbatons.

 “What about you? Any siblings aside from Hestia?”

 “No,” and this time, it’s Hestia who speaks. Delphi feels giddy. “But we have a cousin who’s eight.”

 Delphi beams. “We could be their guides to the school!” She loved showing Susan any secrets she found in Bones Keep, and this could be that but on a much larger scale. She winces though, because Flora and Hestia look a little stunned and a little afraid. “That is, assuming we’ll still be friends when they arrive?”

 “Well,” Hestia begins, looking at Flora.

 Flora nods, and continues. “I’d love to be friends, but we don’t even know your name yet.”

 Delphi holds out her hand, wondering with a dropping heart if it’s worth breaking her rule for them. She decides to only do so if pressed. “Delphini, but most people shorten it somehow.” The twins look at each other suspiciously, so Delphi continues. “I’m trying to make friends before anyone can judge me for my last name.”

 That, at least, is something Delphi knows the Carrows can relate to, so when they smile and it’s still a little wary, Delphi takes her win.

 “Favorite chocolate frog card, go!”

 Hestia startles into a laugh, and Delphi thinks that she’d like it very much if the rumors are true.

 Let’s slide over for a moment, to another incoming student. Chester Norman doesn’t consider hiding anything about himself, except perhaps that he’s never as happy as he wants people to believe. He pulls his trunk behind him as he boards the train, and wonders if it’s a size issue that causes trunks to be allowed instead of suitcases. He thinks it’s a little sad, because his uncle has a really cool suitcase, but Chester’s has wheels and means he’s going to magic school, so he is okay with it.

  I find it a little sad how many muggleborns will give anything to be given their basic magical rights.

 Chester knocks on the first compartment that doesn’t look crowded or super rowdy, as he thinks the girls inside seem intent on their conversation, but not overly loud. And they left the door open. All three look up at the sound. 

 You’ve already met them, of course.

 The Carrows’ mouths snap shut quickly, both looking a little hostile but mostly nervous. Delphi though, smiles. “Hello! Can we help you?”

 “I was wondering if I could join you?” Chester asks.

 The three girls look at each other, each making sure to meet the eyes of both of their fellows, before Delphi nods resolutely. “Absolutely. I’m Delphini.”

 The twin closest to the window waves loosely. “Flora.”

 “Hestia,” the twin closer to the door says.

 “I’m Chester,” he introduces himself, lugging his trunk inside. He gets it into the overhang with the girls’ before sitting down in the corner by the door. He doesn’t consider the lack of last names. He’s eleven, as are the rest of them, and he’s a muggleborn. He doesn’t know the Wizarding emphasis placed on last names, and again. He’s eleven. Chester couldn’t care less. Sometimes I wish more people thought like him.

 Other times, he lights the school banners on fire and I’m thankful they don’t.

 Anyway. The silence as they settle together is shorter this time than it was the last. Delphi introduces Chester to Leonis, and Hestia opens the conversation again by outright stating that all copies of Grindlewald’s Chocolate Frog Card should be banned. “There are too many people who think breaking the law and harming others is a worthy ticket to fame, and all the lists of the most violent, or gruesome, or downright sadistic people encourage that idea!”

 Chester doesn’t know who Hestia is talking about, hasn’t learnt of Grindelwald yet, but one of his cousins was killed by a serial killer (a terrible, sadistic man, who would rip out the hearts of children) and even though the serial killer died two years ago, it’s his name that’s known, not Chester’s cousin’s. “They should have more memorials for the people killed by those types of monsters, instead,” he pipes in. Despite the conversation having been about chocolate frog cards for the past half hour, the girls follow the topic change well, throwing out ideas as to how that could be achieved.

 Chester doesn’t know this, but I as the Narrator do, and see fit to tell you here. Hestia has a point. Her point is a wonderful one, one that others will realize in the next half century and work to remedy. But underneath her logic is a child’s wish. A wish to be known for something other than the sins of her bloodkin. To not have people insult her for something she had nothing to do with.

 “I bet we could find old newspapers,” Delphi says, trying not to let her voice twist. I’m sure I don’t have to say so, but she has the same wish. “If we go by the killer or attackers’ names, in the archives. We could make a list of the names, if nothing else.” She reaches up to her trunk and digs out eight different quills - four real, and four sugar. She holds most of them out to her carriagemates, her own sugar quill already in her mouth. “I’m going to actually do this. Do you want to help?”

 Flora and Hestia take a candy and a quill each, and Chester slowly follows their example. “What’s with the white ones?”

 “Sugar quills,” Hestia says. “I think the trolley lady has some in other colors if you’d like to try, later. These ones aren’t flavored.”

 Delphi sniffs, some of the seriousness of the previous topic wearing out. “Of course they aren’t. Who wants flavored sugar?”

 Sadly, this is exactly when Dora pokes her head into the compartment. “What do you think Cotton Candy is, Elfy?”

 Delphi sticks her tongue out. “I stand by what I said.”

 Dora rolls her eyes, the roots of her hair turning yellow in amusement. “Good for you, then. I’m glad you made friends, if something explodes, Charlie and I are a few carriages down.”

 “Yes, Dora,” Delphi says, a little exasperated, even though she knows it’s just because Dora cares. Dora fake salutes, closes the door, and promptly lands on her face when she turns around. Delphi flinches at the noise. “Are you okay?”

 “Always!” comes Dora’s muffled reply.

 Flora is looking at Delphi, but it’s Chester who speaks first. “Someone you know?”

 “My cousin, Nymphadora,” Delphi admits. She’s still not using last names. “She always threatens to curse people who call her that though, so we all call her Dora.”

 Hestia hums. “Might be better for us to call her Tonks though, right?”

 Delphi doesn’t flinch. Flora and Hestia understand, she reminds herself. “At least until she gives you permission, probably.”

 “What do you mean?” Chester asks. “What’s a Tonks?”

 The girls look at each other in momentary panic, before Delphi takes the lead. “Muggleborn?” Chester nods. “Okay, so,” Delphi begins, unsure of how much he knows. The only muggleborns she personally knows live with wizards now, and the adults were always in charge of explaining the important bits. “Has anyone told you about addresses in the Wizarding World?”

 “I read the section on Floo addresses.”

 Delphi blinks once. Twice. Hestia takes over. “Definitely not what we mean. Unless someone has given you permission, it’s polite to call them by their last name. Sometimes titles, but not while at school. Delphi and Tonks are cousins, so by default they can call each other by their given names.”

 “Untrue, actually,” Delphi interrupts, finding her tongue again. “I have to call my other cousin by his last name, because his branch of the family nearly never interacts with ours.”

 Hestia stares. “That is so sad!” She bursts out. “We’re not super close, but our parents ensure us kids get together every few months!”

 Chester is a little lost, but he is obviously doing his best to follow along anyway as the conversation devolves into a discussion of Delphi’s odd family dynamics. “My mom wasn’t disowned but she is in Azkaban, and most of the rest of the family forsook… well. You know. My aunt and her husband… didn’t.”

 Hestia still seems disbelieving in the wrong ways, or perhaps of the wrong thing. “That’s still terrible.” She doesn’t say anything about how her dad and aunt escaped Azkaban and fall into the same category. “Have you even met him?”

 “Only once, since...” Delphi makes a face, a sort of half shrug grimace because Hestia and Flora know what she meant. Growing up, Amelia didn’t talk about the war in earshot often, and with plain words even less. Uncle Regulus, Aunt Vivian, and Uncle Adrian were very candid about it, but Aunt Andromeda wasn’t. Delphi wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be or not. She still isn’t. Sometimes she isn’t sure she even knows what happened. “Well. I went to his fifth birthday party with my Uncle, and it was…” She makes another face, this one just distressed. “A disaster.”

 Hestia winces. "We're talking about Malfoy, right?"

 Delphi doesn't respond. Flora purses her lips instead of wincing, knowing the misstep Hestia just stumbled into.

 "Sorry," Hestia cringes.

 "It's fine," Delphi says. And it is, because it’s not like Delphi expected them to not figure it out. "But yes, they are my cousins."

 "So," Chester cuts in, wanting to understand what’s going on again. "Unless you're close to someone, you call them by their last name? Kind of like Vous vs Tu in french?"

 Delphi turns, smiling brightly. "Yes, exactly! It's mostly done by wizarding families who have assimilated or are traditional, and it's because surnames carry the weight of your ancestors. A given name implies you know the person for themselves, and a surname is for someone you know by their family."

 "I think…" Hestia pauses, and Delphi waits so she can gather her thoughts. "I think that's part of why so many people look down on muggleborns. Because we don't know the history of their names, so to us it doesn't mean anything. Do… Chester, do muggles care about surnames?"

 Chester shrugs. "Some do, some don't. The Americans are so anti-last name it’s almost funny." Hestia hums.

 The conversation continues. Chester asks questions, his fellows try to figure out if they know the answers. Once, Delphi asks Dora for the answer, and the four of them get a twenty minute tangent from Charlie Weasley on how magical gifts don’t have actual affiliations, only societal ones.

 He’d know.

 Delphi licks her sugar quill, waiting for – she’s not sure. Something. Probably the guts to start her list.

 Obviously, it’s slow coming. It is not easy, readers, to admit connections to someone so terrible. She closes her eyes, and focuses on thinking of names. Who does she know who were horrible people?

 Her parents, obviously, count. A few cousins had been in the same terrorist gang. Who was that one Amelia always complained about? Something Macnair? Warden? Waldo? Walden? Delphi isn’t sure, so she just writes a W. and then the last name.

 It’s Walden, but again. Delphi isn’t someone I can pass my omniscence onto. So instead W. Macnair starts off her lists on one side. Then she writes down, only shaking a little, Regulus Black, followed by The Lestranges (B., Ro., and Ra.), Avery Rosier, Helinora Fawley, Antonin Dolohov, Igor Karkaroff, and Amycus Carrow. She thinks it’s probably sad that she can fill in Regulus’ list the fastest, but at the same time… Regulus learned. His list of victims was small, and Delphi knew it because Regulus regretted them and was candid about his sins.

 She doesn't know the others. But she knows they exist. She will know, one day.

 "Is that your list?" Chester asks, leaning across the compartment to look. Delphi nods. "Huh," he hums. "All wizards?"

 "I grew up in a wizarding family," Delphi admits with a shrug. "I'm not versed on Muggle criminals. Or french, for that matter." She adds, because that was how Vivian and Regulus always explained it. Magic and mundane have their own cultures.

 "But we can do muggle criminals?"

 "Of course!"

 Delphi doesn't notice, but the other three are all turning to her for permission. For guidelines. They won’t always, but right now it’s a group project in a group she started, and Chester is recently aware of his newfound opportunities to grievously offend someone.

 Chester takes her permission and starts scrawling names across his paper, the script messy and blotted, but readable. If you concentrate. Ian Bradely, Gregory Hallows, John Christie, Thomas Cream/Lambeth Poisoner.

 "I swear dad talks about Dolohov when he gets drunk but I can't remember anyone he actually killed," Hestia huffed.

 Delphi looks up, moving her quill over. "Um. He went to Azkaban for his involvement with the McKinnons' murders, we can narrow that down later… Smith? There was a Smith. And Prewetts, I think."

 "Were there really?" Hestia asks. "I thought the Prewetts were killed by McNair."

 "No," Flora says softly. "McNair is an aim and fire. 'Bloodtraitors' usually had actual fighters sent after them, because as much as they'd hate to admit that there are powerful wixen who aren't bigots, he knew they wouldn't be easy to kill." There’s a wry twist to her lips.

Pop back barely a minute, to the hallway between compartments, and I can finally introduce you directly to a Weasley. Two, actually. See, Hestia and Flora Carrow aren’t the only twins coming to Hogwarts this year. George and Fred Weasley are also here, and while they’re not twins, Hana Griffiths and Clementia Doe might as well be. Teddie and Cairo Murray are also actual twins.

 Fred leads the way through the train, watching as the few other students not yet sitting down scurry around. He's followed by his twin brother, George. They haven't found anywhere to sit yet, and are coming down for the second time. They worked their way up earlier, but none of the compartments had energy Fred is looking for.

 Well, to be fair, Fred isn't sure what energy he's looking for, but he knows he hasn't found it.

 The train left a few minutes ago, and Fred and George were almost late because of their mum fussing.

 She loves them, and it always makes her nervous to see them leave.

 They're in between two carriages when he hears it.

  "I swear dad talks about Dolohov when he gets drunk but I can't remember anyone he actually killed."

 Fred looks back at George, but George is pushing him forward. They both want to hear the end of this. They've been warned that Death Eater kids would be at Hogwarts, and if they find whoever is bragging about Dolohov they can avoid or hex them. The twins aren't sure which to do yet. Fred takes the next steps quickly. The hallways have nearly cleared out, after the rush of the train pulling away. They reach the door the sounds are coming from and stop, quietly.

 "-e can narrow that down later… Smith? There was a Smith. And Prewetts, I think."

  "Were there really?" The first voice comes again. It’s Hestia, if you forgot. "I thought the Prewetts were killed by McNair."

 The twins almost miss the next response, it's that soft. 

  "No. McNair is an aim and fire. 'Bloodtraitors' usually had actual fighters sent after them, because as much as they'd hate to admit that there are powerful wixen who aren't bigots, he knew they wouldn't be easy to kill."

 "What's a bloodtraitor?" A fourth voice asks.

 "A slur," says the second, harshly. "It was the- ugh. Um. Muggle Grindlewald, what was his name?" It’s quiet. Fred moves just enough to peek through the door’s window. "Right, no one knows both. Um, Chester, who was the dude who tried to kill all the jews this century?" The speaker is a redhead. Delphi.

 "Hitler?" Says the only boy in the room, Chester. He's the fourth voice.

 "Yes, him. Bloodtraitor is what the last dark lord called people he didn't like, trying to justify killing them."

 "Like the slavetraders did," says Chester, nodding knowingly. "After all, they're lesser, who cares if they're hurt?" The derision from his voice is strong.

 "Exactly. Warped reasoning."

 "It's still used as an insult," says one of the twins across from the redhead. (This is also Hestia, if you can't tell). "But now it's frowned upon."

 "Okay," Chester says.

 "Yeah," agrees the other twin. This is the first she’s spoken yet, at least during eavesdropping hours. She's sitting beside the window, has a quill behind her ear and another in her hand, parchment on her lap, and is, of course, Flora Carrow. "Delphi, do you remember the Prewetts' given names?" Not that either Weasley recognizes her.

 Delphi makes a face and pulls a quill out of her mouth. "I should, but I don't. Sorry."

 "Well," and window twin's tone is distinctly wry, "by the time we're done, you'll know their names."

 George knocks on the door. Fred jumps when he does, which means he misses the four inside jumping too.

 "Yes?" Asks Delphi, sugar quill still in her hand.

 George slides the door open. "We heard you talking about the Prewett murders."

 The reactions are instantaneous. The Carrows stiffen and jolt, Hestia shifting like she's ready to bolt. Chester nods, and Delphi narrows her eyes. "We were," she agrees. "What's it to you?"

 "Their names were Gideon and Fabian," George says.

 Flora relaxes, realizing this isn’t someone tracking them down to bully them, and Delphi’s eyes blow wide as Flora bends down and starts writing. "How do you spell those?"

 Delphi is surprised so many people want to help.

 The Weasleys don’t know any of this, but George knows how to spell Gideon and Fabian, which… technically Fred can do, since he and George are named after them, but Fred knows the names as his name, not his Uncles’. Beyond that, Mrs. Weasly talks about her brothers sometimes, but not often, and Fred was never very interested in family history anyway.

 "Thank you," Flora says when George finishes.

 "What are you writing?" Fred asks. Usually he knows exactly what George is thinking, or close enough to fool people, but right now he can't tell what's going on in his brother's head.

 It's Chester who answers. "Victim lists. We know the names of famous killers, but not who they killed, and that's wrong," his voice breaks on wrong, and suddenly Fred feels terrible for assuming this carriage was full of Wannabe-Death-Eaters.

 "Can we help?" Fred asks. He hopes George agrees.

 "Sure," says the redhead. She stands up and digs through her trunk for a moment before offering four quills to Fred. He takes one bundle of two, and realizes one is candy. "I'm Delphi and this is Leonis." She holds up a plastic octopus.

 "Flora," says window twin, but she's almost absent as she writes something down.

 "Hestia," says the other twin.

 "I'm Chester," says the boy. "Do you think it's possible to make a list of every victim of Hitler?"

 "Considering how many he wiped out, probably not," Delphi says. "There are probably people no one remembers." She doesn't say why people would be forgotten. It makes her sick to think about it. "But you can list a lot of them, I'm sure."

 "Delphi, do you know who killed Edgar Bones?"

 "Helinora Fawley is who confessed, but Amelia thinks that it was actually a Rowle."

 Hestia writes something down. "Thank you."

 Fred puts his and George's trunks up while George stands and talks to Flora. After a minute, Delphi scoots away from the window. "Here, George, sit down."

 "Thanks."

 Fred sits on her other side, unsure of what to do with this. "So, what's the idea behind this?" 

 Delphi looks at him and launches into an explanation of what they were talking about earlier that morning. Fred listens, and feels… grateful? And apprehensive. He doesn't like the dead, but he knows honoring them is important. And he would like people to know how much the Death Eaters' claims to fame hurt.

 The train ride is long, readers. So is the story itself; so I’m going to mostly drop my habit of smooth scene changes, and constant commentary. Sometimes you have to jump, and taking the time to explain loses the storyline. Such as today.

 I’ll still be here though, don’t worry. Someone has to tell the story.

 "What do you mean you don't collect Chocolate Frog cards?"

 Chester looks over and gives the purebloods his driest look. He's eleven, so it's iffy. "Why should I?"

 "B-because! They're chocolate frog cards!" Says George, as though Chester is speaking in code.

 "Susan builds card decks out of them," Delphi says casually. She’s on her third sugar quill, still plain. "For everything," she emphasizes.

 "Huh," Chester hums. He’s on his second, but it’s blue because there is a witch with a lunch and snack trolley on the Hogwarts Express, and he bought a flavored pack from her. "I'm not sure how many more I can come up with without help," he says, changing the subject back to their project as he taps his parchment.

 Delphi stands up to get into her trunk, as she does almost every half hour, and then drops her history book on Chester's lap.

 "Thanks."

 "I know we agreed no last names-"

 "We what?" Fred asks flatly, looking at Hestia instead of George. He looks at her because she spoke, is in his line of sight, and he doesn’t want to glare at his brother.

 Chester shrugs. "I hadn't noticed."

 "Some of us are purebloods," Delphi says sharply. "And I, for one, want to stave off the prejudice for as long as possible."

 George squints, trying to dissect his new friends. It could matter. It usually mattered. But he is enjoying his day, and Delphi is right. Their dad had told George and Fred to avoid the Rowles, Carrows, Goyles, and a lot of other names, because of the war and how people didn’t like each other because of the divides - some from the war, and some from tradition. “That idea has merit.”

 The girls’ smiles are a little too relieved for them to be from Light families. George puts it out of his mind, and Fred puts it in a box to review later.

 Hestia takes the conversation back. “Yes. But, Delph. If you are who I think you are, you-” her eyes cut to Fred, who had not quite relaxed like George did. George watches as she changes what she’s going to say, and he can guess the original. “-weren’t raised by your parents. So who raised you?”

 “Amelia Bones is who has guardianship, but my cousin and his co-parents helped. Uncle Regulus got to do most of my family education.”

 George blinks. Once. Twice. And then he catches sight of Fred’s face, a little less accepting and a little more confused. Which is when he realizes, oh yeah; their mom might have a hard time keeping track of them, and therefore assumed they both liked everything either of them did, but Fred didn’t like family history. Which meant it was probably only George who knew the second name. But Fred knew the first. Their dad and Amelia weren’t friends, but they did have a friendly relationship. Which meant he knew who Delphi was.

 So will Fred, actually, once he takes a minute to think.George definitely understands her reluctance now.

 “You mean you’re-” Fred starts.

 George jumps in, taking over before it could go in a direction that would sour this. “-our cousin too!” He injects more of a smile into his voice than usual.

 “I am?” Delphi asks. She looks genuinely surprised.

 George nods. “Yeah. Pretty sure our great aunt Lucretia is your grandpa Cygnus’ cousin.”

 Delphi tilts her head, going over her own family tree. “Grandfather Cygnus does have a cousin Lucretia. I haven’t visited her in a few years, though.”

 George nods. Fred is staring at him, confusion and hurt on his face. When Delphi looks away, George mouths ‘does she act like her parents?’ Fred shakes his head, and that is that.

 “Cool,” Hestia says. “I bet that means you know a lot of laws.”

 “Yeah,” Delphi agrees cautiously. “A lot.”

 “So what hoops will we need to jump through to publish these things?”

 Delphi grins, and the atmosphere returns to the slightly mournful but laid back air of before.

 "Frederick Gideon-!" George starts, in his best imitation of their mom.

 "Remember, no last name!" Chester calls before George can finish.

 George snaps his mouth shut, the light atmosphere dampered by the reminder that they're likely to split up once their family names and alignments become obvious. Flora obviously remembers it too, as her gleeful smile drains away.

 “Should we use middle names, then?” Delphi asks. Leonis has been relocated to her shoulder, then her neck, and is now affixed to her hair like a crown after a sticking charm was requested from the sixth years.

 George shrugs, and looks to Fred. Fred shrugs back. “Sounds good to me. George just told you all my middle name, and his is Fabian.”

 Delphi, Hestia, and Flora all seem to make the connection. Flora sneers for a second, but then checks her reaction. “Flora Eden,” she admits.

 “Hestia Paige.”

 “Delphini Cygnus. Although I’m liable to hex you if you call me that,” she warns.

 “We consider ourselves-”

 “Forewarned, cousin dearest.”

 Delphi laughs. Her friends join in.

 “You guys should change into your uniforms.”

 Chester jumps, spilling the Bertie’s Bots beans in his hands across the carriage floor.

 “Here,” Hestia says as the door closes behind the prefect. “Accio.”

 “Summoning spell?” Fred asks, impressed. Hestia looks over and grins.

 “It’s not, you know, easy, but I could teach you later?”

 “I’d like that.”

 “Hey Delphi,” Flora says softly. They’ve deboarded the train and the gameskeeper is calling them forward, but they still huddle together.

 “Yeah?”

 “Why’s your middle name Cygnus, instead of Bellatrix?”

 Delphi is quiet for a few steps, thinking. “I’m not… sure. There are theories, and I do qualify for my family heirship so I’m not the second child, but,” she shrugs, the motion hard to see in the dark. “A lot of people say…” Delphi takes a heavy breath, unsure if she’s willing to gossip about her own parents. She doesn’t like them, but it makes her feel gross inside to trashtalk them. “It’s because despite being heiress… you know; my mother had a child for another family.”

 “So they would’ve gotten the name?” Chester asks. “Is it a big tradition?”

 “Yeah,” Hestia confirms. “The oldest child’s middle name is meant to follow the parent of their gender. Sometimes the first of the other gender will also get the other parent for a middle name, but the firstborn is really important. It's a way of being named after the last matriarch or patriarch without the confusion of two Lord Charlus Potters happening in congruence, and when families are large it's a way to show which line you're from."

 “Yeah,” agrees George. “Our oldest uncle is Dominic Septimus, but our dad is Arthur Edward, so our big brother’s William Arthur. Our little sister is Ginevra Molly."

 “Huh.”

 “Exactly,” Delphi agrees. “Which is why being named after my grandfather is odd. Uncle Regulus is named after his, but he’s also the second child. His big brother was named after their dad.”

 “Have you ever met the probable-at-least-half-sibling?” Chester asks next.

 Delphi shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She kind of wishes yes, but she also worries about what they’d be like, hypothetically.

 “The other option, depending on how happy the marriage was, is that Delphi’s big sister died young, or was stillborn,” Flora says, just to offer an alternative.

 The conversation ends as the crowd of first years come upon a large, dark lake. “Ooh,” Fred murmurs. The six of them link hands.

 Not much later, Hestia is becoming increasingly nervous. That’s not surprising, even she knows, but… well. The first professor they met, a Professor McGonagall, had finished her introductory speech by telling them to all be a credit to their houses. Hestia knows what house she is going to be in, but she’s starting to doubt her will to be there.

 She knows exactly what will happen when she sits down under her banner of green. (Sadly, the same thing can happen if she wears blue, or yellow, or even red. Perhaps especially red.)

 She sticks with her friends as they move towards the Staff table in the Great Hall (and how pretty it is! She absolutely needs to look around more later) glad that McGonagall hadn’t seen the need to make them get in a line.

 She takes a breath at Flora’s nudge, straightens her back, and smiles.

 Fred raises an eyebrow beside her. “You look like someone’s being murdered in front of you,” he mutters. Hestia closes her eyes.

 “Dangit.”

 “Crinkle your eyes a bit more,” Delphi mutters from right behind Hestia. “Wide eyed smiles freak people out for some reason.”

 “You can’t even see my face,” Hestia hisses.

 “General rule,” Delphi mutters back. “George, how’s Flora’s smile?”

 “Shy, but not creepy.” George responds. Their little huddle is in pairs and rows, going Hestia and Fred, Chester and Delphi, and George and Flora.

 Hestia smirks as she realizes what she should do next. “Chester, what about Delphi’s smile?”

 “She has too many teeth. Literally.”

 “I do not!” Delphi hisses, but the panic in her tone belies her protest. She had shifted.

 Hestia hides a laugh, both in response to Chester’s deadpan delivery and to Delphi’s response. They reach the front of the Great Hall, and since none of the other students spread out, neither do they. Hestia’s worry hits her full force again. She knows Delphi’s family ties, but despite Delphi being friendly on the train, if given the chance Hestia wouldn’t be surprised (or offended, she fruitlessly tells herself) if Delphi cut ties from them to try and protect herself.

 After all, if she isn’t friends with any other Death Eater kids, maybe she could convince people she isn’t her parents easier.

 It’s what Hestia and Flora should do, but there was no possible way they’d survive that in Slytherin. She doesn’t want to lose the other four either.

 The Sorting Hat (Hat! Hestia wants the history on that Hat and she wants it before Yule) starts to sing, something long and winding about the houses and the founders and how “Alas, by the time lost Slytherin returned, all his friends but one were gone. Beware, young ones, of letting wounds fester for too long.”

 Hestia loses her composure for a moment to grab Flora’s hand as the first name is called.

 “Adolf, Caroline.”

 Flora looks over at her. Hestia knows her smile has vanished. George reaches up and nudges Hestia, before the sorting Hat shouts out “Hufflepuff!”

 “It’ll be okay,” he says softly.

 Hestia really doesn’t think so, but she was raised a Slytherin and is willing to wait for him to abandon her himself. Flora squeezes her hand, and Chester grins lazily. Hestia glances over at Delphi, who is evidently nervous enough to try and break Fred’s hand, anxiety clear on her face.

 The boys are the only ones who didn’t seem super worried. Hestia wouldn’t be surprised if they were just good at smiling through things, though.

 Hestia is right, actually, but they get even better at it later.

 Ah, I realized you have no idea what the colors or houses are, or mean. Especially considering I skipped the Hat’s song. They will come up many times, but for now I have to give you the basics. The houses are split by values. Loyalty, Daring, Curiosity, and Ambition.

 The rest you’ll see later. A lot of it has been twisted by society over the years, and I still have a sorting to walk you through.

 “Hey. Let’s meet in the haunted bathroom after classes tomorrow- anyone who wants to stay friends.” Hestia finds the words impulsively as the third name was called, this one beginning with a B. She doesn’t want to lose her friends, and so she’ll make opportunities to keep them.

 “Deal,” Delphi nods.

 The next name is Flora’s. Hestia’s heart seizes as she lets go of her sister’s hand to the tune of booing. Flora smiles at them, tight and too emotional, but Hestia can’t say anything about it. Hers is just as bad. As far as she is concerned they are in front of way too many enemies to be open like this but she physically can’t do anything else. And she doesn’t know it yet, but that’s okay. Children don’t have to grow up too fast.

 “Isn’t Carrow bird meat?” Chester asks quietly, squinting up at the hat as Flora sits down primly under it.

 “No?” Delphi says, turning to look at him instead. “You might be thinking of Carrion, but Carrow is a name that means something like hill-dweller.”

 The booing quiets down enough for McGonagall to set the hat on Flora’s head. Hestia doesn’t want to look away but right now is a crucial time. She waits until Flora’s eyes are covered.

 “How do you remember that?” Chester asks. Hestia watches Fred and George. “Do you just know a million of those?”

 “No,” Delphi says, tone going softer as she too watches Flora. “But one of my cousins is a Dunbar, which means fort on top of a hill, so I remember Carrow too.”

 The other twins are making faces at each other, but-

 “Slytherin!”

 -when the verdict comes, they both break into uproarious applause. Hestia relaxes just a little. A few more people boo, and then George starts yelling.

 “Go Flora! Attagirl!”

 Hestia thinks her chest will explode.

 A moment later, George looks over at her and grins, still clapping. It looks as awkward as Hestia had felt a few moments before. Delphi obviously catches sight of the exchange, because she reaches over and nudges Hestia’s shoulder.

 “Friends, right?”

 “Carrow, Hestia!”

 Hestia waves, but before she moves she purposefully meets both Fred and George’s eyes. “Thank you.” And then she’s up, walking as prim and poised as her sister had been, ignoring the jeers.

 Hestia is sorted quicker than Flora had been. Relatively. People are still booing, although Fred is happy to see Charlie reach over and shut one of the other older years up. The wait for them to quiet down means the Carrows are up around the same amount of time, but Hestia spends less time with the hat actually on her head.

 “Slytherin!”

 Again, Fred and George are uproarious. Hestia waves lowly as she passes them on her way to the Slytherin table. George grins at her and Delphi shoots her a thumbs up. Chester mimes smiling wider, and Hestia breaks character long enough to stick out her tongue. Fred just smirks.

 As the rest of the sorting commences, Fred starts answering Chester’s questions of why some people booed in a low voice, while George and Delphi stare and make faces at each other, trying to make points without getting another reprimand to be quiet.

 When Fred catches sight of them, he’s a little miffed that it only took one day of knowing them for these four to have the same silent conversations he and George often have, but then he thinks of all the pranking opportunities and is elated instead.

 He’ll enjoy staying friends with them. As long as the bathroom isn’t a trap, he’ll cause as much chaos as needed to ensure older students and teachers don't get in the way of their friendship; not for house divides, not for last names, and not for grudges that should stay in the generation ahead of them.

 “You’ll be at the bathroom too, right?” George asks Delphi, as "Jordan, Lee!" goes into Gryffindor. Fred looks over, ready to open his mouth because she already said so, but snaps it shut when she actually answers.

 “Unless I’m in the hospital wing.” She says it with a smile, as though it’s just a given. Or a joke.

 Fred decides then and there that he’s going to learn curses this year. Jinxes were all well and good for squabbles and playfights, but as he had apparently befriended dangerous people now, or people in danger, he needs to catch up.

 George stops smiling at her comment. “You won’t be. None of you will be.”

 “We could be,” she looks away, staring firmly at the hat. “Wouldn’t be surprised if we were cursed before we went to sleep tonight.”

 George reaches for her, but Chester gets there first. “Then we can drag beds together in the hospital wing, can’t we?”

 Delphi laughs, a little wet and a lot genuine, leaning into him a bit. “You better know some curses you can teach us,” George says, looking over Delphi’s shoulder to Fred. Fred nods. “Freddie and I were planning on being pranksters, but we can do revenge too.”

 “Nah, best to get revenge with pranking spells. Annoy them to death.” She smiles, one that was more brittle than the last. If she were anyone else, she’d agree, but Delphi hasn’t been at Hogwarts for a day and is already desperate to be seen as better than her parents. Fred doesn't protest, for now, because he can’t see her face but it sounds like she’s trying not to cry. His little sister, Ginny, does that too.

 “Sure,” Fred says, even as he catches George’s eye to tell him absolutely not. Maybe for the first offense, George offers, but Fred can tell he’s hesitant too.

 Chester huffs and hip-checks Delphi. “Turn all their hair their least favorite color, and then make all their food taste like boiled eggs.”

 She snorts. He grins.

 “Lestrange, Delphini!”

 The booing starts up immediately. George reaches over to high-five Chester, but Fred only notices that peripherally, instead focused on how he needs to change what’s acceptable in this school. He looks for the angriest faces, but he won’t be able to remember them as more than houses yet.

 He gets better at it, later.

 The booing doesn’t stop, so only a few people hear the Sorting Hat’s verdict. Fred, Chester, George, Dora, Charlie, Hestia, Flora, and Alicia all find this disgusting.

 Four of them had only spent six hours with Delphi, but they know she deserves better. They all do. Charlie especially only realizes the hat said something when Delphi stands up.

 In the middle of the Gryffindor table, clad in red, black, and gold, a host of redheads are trying to quiet people down. At the Slytherin table, anyone jeering shuts up quickly from glares. In Ravenclaw, no one is able to do much. At the Hufflepuff table, Dora is throwing low-level hexes that shouldn’t get her detention, but if they do she doesn’t care much. That’s her baby cousin!

 A few people among the unsorted jeer too, and a black girl with a determined twist to her lips kicks the legs out from under three and punches a fourth.

 Delphi stands up, carefully places the hat back on the stool, and starts walking.

 The House Tables are set so that Gryffindor is on the left from the doorway, with Hufflepuff beside them, and Ravenclaw on the other side of the center aisle. Slythern gets the far right.

 Instead of going towards the Ravenclaw table and past it to Slytherin, though, Delphi stops on the edge of the Hufflepuff table, and waves to Dora. Dora grins back at her, pretending she isn’t hexing tentacles onto a seventh year.

 Up among the unsorted, George cackles. “Go Delphi!” he starts cheering and hollering, and Fred and Chester join in after a minute. So does the girl from earlier.

 Delphi turns to look at them, and then turns her hair bright yellow. Fred grins, thinking her spellwork is impressive. He’ll figure it out later.

 Chester turns to the girl with blood on her knuckles, and holds out his hand. “Chester.”

 “Alicia,” says Alicia Spinnet, a muggleborn who spent six months with the Dunbar-Blacks and loved it. She shakes his hand.

 Alicia hadn’t realized Delphi would be here this year, and she hadn’t recognized the girl either. Of course, it makes sense.

 See, Bellatrix Lestrange Née Black at her prime, also known as how everyone expects her daughter to look, looked very different from Delphini Lestrange. 

 The differences, dear reader, that Fred, Alicia, and anyone else with eyes see, are ones I can now openly point out. Bellatrix Lestrange has hair black as her birth name, which crackles with magic like lightning and frizzes like a storm. Her eyes are large and unnerving, the same color as her daughter’s, but that’s not why Delphi kept the resemblance.

 No, Delphi’s hair is red and smooth, darker than that of the family that raised her, but a reference all the same. Her eyes are silver, but that’s a family trait that goes beyond her mom. Regulus has silver eyes, and so do Andromeda and Fay. That’s who she keeps them for. Her eyes aren’t as wide of a shape, and her nose is blatantly stolen from Vivian. (Her cheekbones are from Caspian though.)

 Fred watches as Norman, Chester, goes to Ravenclaw, and he and George cheer just as loudly for him as they did the girls.

 Spinnet, Alicia, their new friend, goes to Gryffindor, but only after George invites her to the bathroom meet up too. When Fred sends him a look, George sends one back that essentially says ‘if she fights like that, I want her on my team’.

 Two names after Alicia, George turns to his brother seriously. “If we can’t get into Gryffindor-” he starts, voice low.

 “-we’ll be fine.” Fred assures him. Earlier, Fred wouldn’t have been so sure, but George made them friends and Fred knows their brothers will be there for them no matter their house. “We’ve got a friend in every house now, remember?”

 George grins at him. “We’ll be fine,” he echoes.

 “Weasley, Frederick!”

 Fred looks back at his brother. “If we’re in different houses, I’m going to steal your tie.”