Okay, so here's the last chapter of Book One. So glad to have all of you along on this journey. Feel free to keep up the response, and look forward to Book Two. (Or don't, dread it if you like).

The Potter Twins and the Sorcerer's Stone:

Chapter Sixteen: Of Matter and Minds

Of all things Chrys had expected to see when they entered the room, no stretch of the imagination could have prepared her for that purple turban.

Her breath caught in her chest, but Harry managed to force out one word of surprise. "You!"

"Me," Quirrell responded lightly. His confident smile threw Chrys off completely. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter… though admittedly I didn't expect two for the price of one!" He sneered at Chrys.

"Well tonight is the night of the unexpected," Chrys replied bitterly. Harry stepped in front of her.

"We thought… Snape…" Harry scratched his head. Chrys understood his confusion. Even with the man standing in front of them, it was hard to image such a boring pushover as the mastermind behind all the nefarious plots.

Quirrell was aware of the seeming unlikelihood of him being this year's villain, especially compared to Snape's gloomy exterior. He'd used this to his advantage, remaining unsuspected in the shadows.

"At the Quidditch match… you tried to kill my brother?" Chrys questioned, her mind running on overtime.

"That was Snape!" Harry insisted, not wanting to believe otherwise.

"Severus?" Quirrell's grin widened toothily. Chrys had liked him better as an unhappy wuss. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Chrys grimaced. Talk about not judging a book by its cover, and all that. Harry wasn't so easily convinced. "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no." Quirrell waved his hand dismissively. "I tried to kill you." Chrys sucked in a breath as she realized.

"At the Quidditch game... Hermione said she bumped into you..."

"Yes..." Quirrell's smile faded somewhat. "Your friend accidentally knocked me over when she rushed to set fire to Snape. That broke my eye contact with Mr. Potter. Too bad, another couple of seconds and I would have gotten him off that broom." Quirrell nodded at Harry. "Then, even with Snape muttering the countercurse, you would have been finished."

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry mulled this over. Quirrell explained that Snape had purposely volunteered as referee during the next match to better protect Harry. Though of course, Quirrell wasn't about to try anything right under Dumbledore's nose.

Quirrell shrugged dramatically. "What a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

A roaring anger rose in her heart. She went to rush at Quirrell, unsure of what she would do to him exactly, but was removed the effort of decision as Dark Arts professor magicked vines to hold her and Harry back.

"If we make it out of this, remind me to thank Snape, Dumbledore, and especially Hermione," Chrys growled as the vines wrapped tighter.

"You won't make it out of this chamber alive," Quirrell assured her. "You Potter twins are far too nosy to live." He had been planning to kill them from the start, ever since he thought they might have seen him go after the stone on Halloween.

"You let the troll in," Harry and Chrys realized. Apparently Quirrell had a special skill with trolls.

"Of course, your stink fits in just fine with them," Chrys muttered. Quirrell frowned, ignoring her and refocusing his attention on a familiar mirror in the middle of the room.

"Erised," Harry whispered. Quirrell knew the mirror would help him get the stone, though he didn't know how. Dumbledore had manufactured the last challenge quite well. At this, Harry seemed to remember their mission to distract Quirrell long enough for Dumbledore to arrive. So Harry did what Harry did best—he let loose his incessant curiosity. "I saw you and Snape in the forest—"

"Yes..." Quirrell walked around the mirror. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me— as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side. . ." Chrys was reminded of the mustache-twirling villains in Dudley's afternoon cartoons. Maybe they could get him to keep bragging about his plans until help arrived. But Quirrell was still focused on the mirror. "I see the Stone. . . I'm presenting it to my master. . . but where is it?"

"But Snape seems to hate us so much," Harry continued, pulling at his bindings.

"Oh, he does," Quirrell agreed distractedly. "Heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know?" Harry and Chrys shared a quick frown. "They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"Before, I thought I heard sobbing," Harry pressed. "I thought Snape was threatening you."

For a moment the familiar look of anxiety reappeared on Quirrell's face. "Sometimes… I find it hard to follow my master's instructions… he is such a great wizard, and I am weak…"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry prodded. Quirrell patted his turban absentmindedly.

"He is with me wherever I go," he said. Chrys wondered what he meant. Her stomach squirmed. All this time the man who murdered her parents had been in the castle with them? She thought she'd found a safe place, but now they would die here... She looked at Harry. He was thinking hard. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it..." Chrys rolled her eyes. "Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times..."

"The attempted robbery at Gringotts," Chrys realized. "You were at the Leaky Cauldron that day. You were trying to get the stone. Bet your 'master' loved that."

Quirrell shuddered. "He does not forgive mistakes easily," he admitted. "He has had to be very hard on me. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me. . . decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. I don't understand. . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?" Harry blinked. He knew something, Chrys was sure of it. He was trying to inch closer to the mirror, but the vines were too tightly wound round his ankles. "Master, help me!"

And then Chrys heard a voice that made her blood run as cold as Snape's potion had. "Use the boy…"

Quirrell nodded. "Yes..."

"Leave him alone!" Chrys protested.

"Mr. Potter..." Quirrell waved his hand and Harry's bindings released. Harry rubbed his wrists, glancing at Chrys. His eyes were determined. "Come here. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see." Harry strode over and stood in front of the mirror. "...Well? What do you see?"

Harry swallowed. "I see... I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the House Cup."

Quirrell cursed. "Get out of the way," he hissed. Harry moved to the side, looking from Quirrell to Chrys. Quirrell was glaring at the mirror again. Slowly Harry inched up the steps.

"He lies…" The cold voice spoke.

Quirrell whirled to face Harry. "Potter, come back here! Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

"Let me speak to him..." the cold voice said. "... face to face." Quirrell stiffened.

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough..." The voice said, as Quirrell reached for his turban, and Harry stared wide eyed. "...for this..." The turban fluttered down, and Quirrell turned his back to him. On the back of his head, was another face. Her scar hurt so much it made her eyes water. Voldemort's face was pale as snow, and his eyes were red as blood. His slit nostrils drew in a breath. "Harry Potter..."

"Harry!" Chrys choked out. The red eyes flickered to her for a moment.

"Chrysanthemum..." Voldemort greeted her. "Are you frightened?"

"Harry, get out of there!" Chrys begged him. "Run!" Harry seemed frozen to the spot. Voldemort let out a soft laugh. Chrys shuddered as she recognized the sound from her dreams of flashing green light. She thrashed at her bindings. They bit into her skin, but did not break.

"This is what I have become," Voldemort continued. "Mere shadow and vapor... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks. . . you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest."

"Right, sounds like a great life, living out the back of someone's head!" Chrys snapped. Voldemort looked vaguely annoyed, or amused, or both.

"Once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now.. " He turned slightly to Harry. "Why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?" Harry finally stumbled backwards. "Don't be a fool! Give me the stone and I will spare you and your sister. Join me, or meet the same end as your parents. They died begging for mercy."

"Liar!" Harry shouted. He had reached the top of the steps. He pulled at the vines that held her in place.

"Harry, just go," Chrys said weakly. "Don't worry about me, just get out of here—"

"Don't be stupid!" Harry said.

"How touching..." Voldemort said. "I always value bravery. Yes, your parents were brave... I killed you father first..." Chrys swallowed. "He put up a courageous fight. But your mother needen't have died... she was trying to protect the two of you. Now, give me the stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

Harry squeezed her hand. "Never!" They said together.

"Very well. Quirrell, take it from him," he ordered. Quirell grabbed Harry by the wrist. And then they were screaming. Harry, Quirell, and Chrys screamed. Chrys could feel Harry's pain chorusing through her veins, blazing in her scar. It was nearly blinding, but through squinted eyes Chrys could see Quirrell leaping back his hand steaming, slick red with burns. "Seize him!" Quirrell tried to grab Harry around the neck, and his blisters worsened. "Seize him!" Quirrell kicked Harry to the ground, pinning him down with his knee against his chest.

"Master, I cannot hold him!" Quirrell panted. "My hands—my hands!" The pain had distracted Quirrell enough for his magic to weaken. Chrys finally tore free of the vines, rushing at Quirrell and punching him swiftly in the face.

Where her fist connected with his jaw, she felt a searing heat. Quirrell howled.

"Kill her!" Voldemort said.

She kept at him, punching, slapping and kicking every inch of skin she could reach. Whenever she hurt him, she could feel her own skin bubbling in fiery protest, but she was used to pain. Physically, Quirrell might have been stronger than her, magically, he certainly was—but Chrys could withstand any level pain, especially if that meant protecting Harry.

She felt a twinge of guilt, and digust at herself, as Quirrell fell, his body disintegrating like ash in the wand. She fell too, to her knees, clutching at Harry, who was lying achingly still.

"Harry, Harry," she called. He needed to wake. Her fingers fluttered to his neck, skimming across the blooming bruises and delightfully catching onto his pulse. He must have passed out from lack of breath when Quirrell was choking him. She glanced back at what was left of the professor's body, her guilt lessening.

Then she saw it. Heat rose from Quirrell's ashes, shimmering in a glaze. The heat bent light as it slunk towards her, engulfing her completely.

She heard his voice, echoing painfully through her head. "How? You are not the one… how did you…?"

Voldemort had said there would always be willing hearts and minds— hers was not, but it hurt too much for him to even try.

This was how she was going to die.

At least she managed to save Harry first. Affection glowed in her chest. Voldemort hissed, and the terrible pressure lifted away.

"You've done well, Chrysanthemum." The kind tone washed away the bitter taste Voldemort had left in her.

"Dumbledore." Her vision was blurred. She thought she might be crying. The next moments were all a blur. She remembered latching onto Harry and refusing to let go, babbling incoherently as Dumbledore tried to reason with her. She thought she might have even pulled at his beard at some point… Though she could not be sure, as before long her mind melted into darkness.

She woke to gentle fingers stroking through her hair. "Your plait is ruined." Hermione.

"You'll just have to redo it then," Chrys croaked, opening her eyes. Chrys got a mouth full of Hermione's hair as her friend attacked her in a hug.

"You're awake!"

Chrys struggled for air. "Oi! Give her some space," she heard Ron say.

"Sorry…" Hermione released her. Chrys smiled. Hermione's buck-toothed grin was infectious.

"Alright, Chrys?" Ron pressed a familiar shape into her hands. Chrys gratefully perched her glasses back on her nose, where they belonged.

"Yeah, you?" Her eyes flickered over him, relieved to see no sign of injury.

"Oh you know, beating Hermione at chess, nothing new really," he responded casually. Hermione rolled her eyes. Chrys laughed.

"Ohh…" The laughter pulled painfully at her side.

Hermione stood up immediately. "What's wrong? I'll get Madam Pomfrey." She rushed off.

"Pomfrey…" Chrys looked around. The Hospital Wing's bright white walls stung at her eyes. "I see." Her nose wrinkled. "Ugh, wish Hermione wouldn't. Madam Pomfrey will only fuss."

"Sure, only I reckon you deserve some time to be fussed over, what with everything that's happened," Ron reasoned. Chrys stuck her tongue out at him as Madam Pomfrey strode formidably into the room.

"Miss Potter, good to see you awake." Madam Pomfrey bustled around Chrys, taking all sorts of measurements and asking her all sorts of questions about how she was feeling until she was satisfied. "Hmmm… that'll be all for now. I had better go inform the Headmaster. He wanted to know when you and your brother returned to consciousness." Chrys bolted upwards, eyes wide. "Now, now Miss Potter, calm yourself!"

"Harry!" Chrys saw him in a bed nearby, nearly falling to the floor in an attempt to get to him. Her head spun as she tried to stand. Ron and Hermione moved to help her, but Madam Pomfrey reached her first.

The nurse pulled her up by the shoulders, deceptively strong for such an old woman. "Miss Potter! You are not well enough to get out of bed. Lie done and rest before I am forced to stun you."

Chrys froze. "Let me check on Harry," she demanded. Madam Pomfrey sighed.

"It's understandable that you would be worried about your brother's wellbeing, but that is no reason to injure yourself."

"I wasn't going to injure myself," Chrys scoffed.

"You may not have been trying to, nevertheless at the rate you were going you would have succeeded." Madam Pomfrey put her hands on her hips. "Can we proceed in a more civilized manner?"

Chrys chewed on her lip, trying to simmer down her frustration. "Can you… please tell me how Harry is doing?"

"One moment and I'd be glad to." Madam Pomfrey turned to Ron and Hermione. "You two, it's getting late, best be getting back to your rooms."

"But we want to stay," Ron protested.

"No, she's right." Hermione shook her head. "We should let Chrys rest." She pinched the sleeve of Ron's robes and steered him out of the Hospital Wing.

"Now." Madam Pomfrey quietly pulled up a chair, coming to sit at Chrys' beside. "What would you like to know dear?" Her clever grey eyes assured Chrys that she was serious about answering any questions. Chrys leant back into her pillows.

By the time Ron and Hermione came to visit the next day, Harry had finally woken. Dumbledore was just leaving as Ron and Hermione entered the room.

"Blimey, what did he want to talk to you about?" Ron wanted to know.

"I'm sure it isn't any of our business," Hermione said briskly, swooping in to give Harry a bone-crushing hug. Ron frowned.

"We went through the trapdoor too you know," he reminded her. "We have just as much right to know what the hell was going on in Hogwarts."

"Language," Hermione lectured. She scratched her neck. "I suppose you're right though. Harry?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth. "Uh…"

"So when we got into the final room down there, Quirrell was there," Chrys started.

"Yeah..." Ron frowned. "We heard that, but I can't believe..."

"Dumbledore did say the Hogwarts rumor mill is practicularly..." She glanced at Harry.

"Presistent?" He suggested. She shrugged.

"Anyway, um, Harry got the stone from inside the Mirror of Eresid."

"The trick was, to want it, but not to want it to use it," Harry explained to them. "After that, I sort of passed out..." He rubbed the back of his neck. Then he grinned at Chrys. "Last thing I remembered was you attacking Quirrell."

Chrys nodded. "Well, that was satifsying, but I'm still not sure exactly how that all happened. Dumbledore said it had something to do with our mum dying to save us..."

"...Her love protected us," Harry said quietly. "Made it so that Quirrell couldn't touch us."

"Anyway, then Dumbledore came, and I guess he got us out of there, somehow?"

Hermione nodded. "That is what they're saying. But we weren't sure what happened to the stone, after all that."

"It's going to be destroyed," Chrys said. Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Then Mr. and Mrs. Flamel are going to die."

Harry and Chrys nodded. "Dumbledore said they aren't too fussed though," Chrys told her. "Like, they've lived a very long, fulfilling life, and all that."

"Death is but the next great adventure, Dumbledore said," Harry told them.

Ron considered this. "I always said he was off his rocker."

Hermione shook her head. "No, that's J.M Barrie, from Peter Pan." She flushed. "I fancied him when I was younger," she whispered to Chrys.

"Wait, the author or the character?" Chrys wondered in an undertone.

"Well, er both I suppose." Hermione hid her face in her hands. Chrys laughed as Ron eyed them suspiciously. Hermione cleared her throat. "And what about You-Know-Who?"

"Dumbledore said call him by his name," Chrys said.

"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself," Harry quoted. Hermione tilted her head.

"I like that."

Ron grimaced. "Easy for him to say— he's Dumbledore. But, ah, he's finished then, You-Know-Who?"

"Probably not," Harry and Chrys said together.

"Chances are he'll find another way back," Harry said.

Ron shivered. "Great. Bloody fantastic."

Hermione shot him a look. "Oh, but, get this," Harry said. "Dumbledore's the one who gave us the cloak! He said it was our dad's, and he used to use it to sneak around, and stuff."

"And apparently Snape and our dad got along about as well as Harry and I do with Malfoy," Chrys continued. "Which explains why Snape hates us—"

"A school boy grudge?" Hermione muttered. "That's terribly unprofessional."

"Except, then dad saved Snape's life, which made Snape even angrier, but also meant that he didn't feel right letting Quirrell do us in," Harry finished.

Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "That's a lot to process."

"More importantly," Chrys said, turning to Ron. "Is it true that Fred and George tried to send us a toilet seat?"

"Oh yeah!" Ron chuckled as Hermione rolled her eyes. "You should've seen Madam Pomfrey's face when she opened the wrappings to see if it was appropriate for recovering adolescents." Chrys grinned.

"And was it?"

"Not even a little." Ron reached over and snatched up a pasty from the table.

"Will you thank them for me?"

"Thank them yourself," Ron suggested, muffled as he chewed. Hermione looked appalled. "Probably be back now that you're awake. Dean and Seamus too." He gestured at the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "It's been under Seamus' bed since Christmas, but it's the thought that counts I suppose."

"Other people came to visit us?" Harry sounded embarrassed.

Ron and Hermione nodded. Ron counted off on his fingers. "Neville, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and her sister, er, what's her name again?"

"Padma," Hermione put in. "She left you a note by the way… an apology note?" She gave Chrys a questioning look.

"Ah." Chrys shrugged. "Can't say I blame her, but it's nice to get an apology all the same."

"Dean left a card as well." Ron held up a fiercely drawn lion.

"Cool." Harry eyed it admiringly.

"You never say any of my drawings are cool." Chrys pouted.

"The affect rather wears off when you're at it twenty four seven," Harry teased.

"Neville tried to bring you a funny smelling plant, but Pomfrey chucked that out with the toilet seat," Ron continued as if he hadn't heard them.

"What sort of plant?" Chrys was curious.

Hermione answered in her typical tone of reciting from some book in her brain. "It had tightly grouped yellow flowers so I think it was a yarrow blossom which in the flower language means—"

"Get well soon," Madam Pomfrey interrupted.

"That's sweet of him. Why'd you have to throw it out?" Chrys frowned.

Madam Pomfrey quirked an eyebrow. "Someone could have been allergic."

After Madam Pomfrey kicked Ron and Hermione out, Chrys and Harry had some much needed time to talk. Harry reflected on Dumbledore's actions and words, wondering if the sneaky old man had actually meant for them to face off against Voldemort. "He gave us the cloak, taught us how to use the mirror…"

"And those challenges were like perfectly tailored to our skills," Chrys added. Her brow furrowed. Well, not any of her skills. "If he did set us up to fight Voldemort, that's not a very fair thing to do."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Maybe it was his final option… or we're just over thinking it all."

"We do have a tendency to do that," Chrys admitted. Harry nodded as he chewed and swallowed the last pumpkin pasty. "Hungry much?"

"Bored of this hospital food," Harry explained. Madam Pomfrey's nutrient supplements were filling, but not entirely satisfying. "Wonder if we can convince Madam Pomfrey to let us go to the feast tomorrow. Ron said the food'll be great."

"Fat chance of that," Chrys grunted. Madam Pomfrey was an excellent nurse, or healer or whatever, but her strictness left something to be desired.

Luckily Chrys was wrong, and the twins were allowed to the feast. "Praise Dumbledore!" Chrys cried when she heard the Headmaster had explicitly allowed them permission.

"Indeed," Madam Pomfrey tutted, as if she was thinking the exact opposite. "You have another visitor by the way."

"Oh, good." Harry sat up cheerfully. "Who is it?"

It was quite apparent who their visitor was, as he stood in the doorway, sobs echoing loudly into the room.

"It's all my ruddy fault! I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg!"

"Oh, don't cry, Hagrid!" Chrys said. "I'd probably be a bit silly if I had a chance to win a dragon egg as well."

"I'll never drink again!" Hagrid insisted wetly. "I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!

Chrys looked hopelessly at Harry. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow," Harry reasoned. "This is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" Hagrid cried. "An' don' say the name!"

"Voldemort!" Harry shouted. Hagrid froze in shock. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads..." Harry handed one over.

"Reminds me, I've got a present fer yeh two." Hagrid squeezed through the doorway.

"Not stoat sandwhiches, is it?" Harry said. Hagrid chuckled as he squeezed in between their beds.

Looking this way and that to see that Madam Pomfrey wasn't watching, Chrys stood tiptoe on her mattress and used her sheets to wipe away Hagrid's tears.

"Thank yeh, Chrys, an here," he said gruffly, handing over a book covered in warm colored brown leather. Harry quickly came and sat at the edge of her bed so they could open it together.

"Oh wow!" Chrys reached up and wrapped her arms as far around Hagrid as they could go.

"Glad yeh like it." Hagrid beamed, patting her on the back so that the bed shook.

"Harry, say thank you," Chrys reminded him. He was staring speechless at the moving wizarding photographs of their mother and father, whom they'd only seen a few times in the Mirror of Erised.

Chrys and Harry turned through the pages of the photobook until the last possible moment before the feast, all the way through Madam Pomfrey's insisted final check-ups.

"Wish Hermione had a chance to do up my hair," Chrys complained, spitting a strand out of her mouth as they jogged towards the Great Hall. Harry hadn't heard her, he was too busy examining the Slytherin themed decorations strung up along the ceiling in annoyance.

"If I'd made the last Quidditch match this wouldn't have happened," he grumbled.

"Conceited much?" Chrys teased, though she knew this was him being self-deprecating as always. "Besides, green and silver aren't too bad as far as colors go."

"I prefer red and gold," Harry said grimly as they came to sit down next to Ron and Hermione.

"Hey, Harry, Chrys," Ron greeted them. "You'd think they'd get tired of the staring." He jerked his head at large groups of the students who were standing to get a better look at the twins. Chrys elbowed him hard, wishing he wouldn't have pointed it out to Harry.

Harry sighed in relief when Dumbledore arrived and the students finally went back to their seats.

Dumbledore's speech amusing and confusing as always, and in typical Dumbledore tradition, it held a surprise twist towards the end.

Ron and Hermione blushed brilliantly when they were awarded extra, last minute points for the events that had taken place through the trapdoor. Percy boasted loudly about his little brother's accomplishments, only making Ron flush worse.

"We've nearly caught up to Slytherin," Parvati gasped, having done the maths in her head. Lavender jumped up and down with her fingers crossed.

Next Harry received "Thirty points for pure nerve and outstanding courage…" while Chrys received thirty points for "unflappable loyalty and affection."

Harry laughed. Chrys swatted at him.

"We're tied with Slytherin!" Hermione cheered, joining Lavender's little dance.

"Just a few more points…" Parvati whispered, closing her eyes. Their prayers were answered.

Neville received ten points for standing up to his friends. Gryffindor stood as one, waves of people coming to crowd around the astonished Neville and pat him on the back. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff cheered as well, while Slytherin…

"Look at Malfoy!" Harry tugged at Chrys' arm. Malfoy looked as if he'd been given some sort of electric shock. Dumbledore clapped his hands and the decorations fluttered, changing to match the change in points.

"That's more like it!" Seamus shouted gleefully.

Three fourths of the castle's population was simply elated. Even getting back the marks for their finals couldn't dampen Gryffindor's spirits. Harry and Ron looked startled to have passed, though they were more surprised that Goyle was moving on to year two as well.

"It's a shame, but you can't have everything in life," Ron sighed.

"You can if you work hard enough," Hermione said. She was holding up her scores as if they were the Holy Grail.

"Well, for you maybe," Ron grumbled. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Lavender running out of the girls' bathroom, squealing as Trevor the Toad chased her.

"Oh dear." Hermione scooped him up. "Better go return him to Neville. Otherwise he might get left behind. Speaking of which, you three had better finish your packing." She wagged her finger at them before trotting away.

"Strange how it's almost time to leave," Harry said sadly. "It won't feel right going back to the Dursleys after all this."

"What's it like with your aunt and uncle anyway?" Ron wondered. Harry and Chrys exchanged a look, silently agreeing never to reveal the true extent of the family troubles.

"For one thing the sketching subjects are boring as hell," Chrys told him.

"It has been an exciting year," Ron agreed.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Chrys stuffed her duffle bag full of sketches, sweets, and textbooks. Hermione was lending her A Winter's Tale for some summer reading.

"Are you sure your aunt and uncle won't allow you to visit?" Hermione asked again.

"I'm sure," Chrys sighed.

"Yes, I suppose they'll want you to have some time with the family as you've been away all year," Hermione reasoned. Chrys snorted. The most to hope from such family time, would be that the Dursleys were still in a mood to ignore her.

Still, she wouldn't have to face them until the train ride ended.

The Hogwarts Express was cheerfully bustling as remembered. As the tallest, Ron looked over the crowd of heads and found an empty compartment. Chrys tried to coax Hedwig into eating a suspicious looking Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean before she was interrupted by the Weasley twins.

"Baby brother, any food to share?" George asked, popping his head through the door. Ron shrugged.

"Ask Chrys, she's hoarding it all."

"Am not!" Chrys lied. Fred and George came towards her anyway. "Thanks for the unique gift," she told them. Fred waved his hand dismissively.

"It was nothing," they said.

"We were going to send it to our little sister Ginny," George explained.

"But you looked like you needed it more," Fred finished. Chrys blinked.

"I'm not sure how to take that," she admitted.

"As you will." Fred shrugged, leaning over her shoulder to steal a bean. He plucked up a pink one and studied it careful. "What do you think, strawberry?" Unable to resist, Chrys chomped it off his fingers like a turtle. Fred jumped back in surprise. "Could've took my fingers clean off."

Chrys chewed, making a face. "Ham. Thanks to you I was expecting strawberry."

"You never get quite what you're expecting," George said wisely, snatching the box of beans out of her hands. Fred bumped into him, sending it flying, the brightly colored ovals showering over Hermione and sticking in her hair.

"Chrys!"

"It wasn't me!" Chrys pointed accusingly at the ginger twins on either side of her. Fred and George gulped. Hermione paused, pulled a handful of beans at her hair and pelted them one by one at the perpetrators.

"We'll be seeing you, Chrysanthemum," they waved as they ran, escaping Hermione's wrath by a bean's length. Chrys couldn't stop laughing, even as Hermione turned and attacked her. Harry jumped up and came to his sister's defense.

"Get me ammo!"

"What?"

"The beans, Ron."

"I knew that."

In the end it was Ron who won the Great Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean Battle of 1992. He wouldn't stop gloating about it until they reached the station.

It was the hardest step Chrys ever had to take, that one step through the barrier that guarded Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

She didn't want to leave, but then again, if she didn't leave, how could she return? She knew that. She was however, surprised to see Aunt Petunia's long neck craning above the crowd.

"I wouldn't have bothered, only I was all ready in the area buying some things for Duddy-kins," Aunt Petunia sniffed.

"I'm actually looking forward to seeing our dear cousin." Harry grinned as they followed Petunia to the car.

"Have you gone mad?" Chrys wondered.

"That'd be great! That way I'd be able to think of more creative curses to threaten him with."

Chrys stared. "But… we can't do magic outside of Hogwarts."

"Ah, but what Dudley doesn't know won't hurt him," he pointed out.

Suddenly her grin mirrored his. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"Shut up." His shoulder nudged hers. "… I could stand to hear it more often though," he admitted quietly.

"I love you," she told him. And she meant it.

The end.

Preview of Book Two:

"It'll be a nice quiet night in," Harry tried to play up their situation. "We can play with that set of cards you found in Dudley's waste bin."

"I'd prefer Exploding Snap," Chrys mumbled, recalling the much more interesting wizarding version of cards.

"Pyromaniac," Harry teased.

"Maybe a little." Chrys grinned. Exploding Snap was aptly named after all.