Mid-September 1990, Hogwarts.
On Saturday morning Betty sat in the library, hoping the quiet would steady her thoughts and prevent them from disrupting her. She unrolled her parchment, dipped her quill, and began her essay— only to pause halfway through the first paragraph. Her hand fidgeted more with the quill than it wrote, ink blotted where it shouldn't, and her gaze drifted to the window. Birds circled high above the grounds up in the sky. She wished, just for a moment, she could be one of them, instead of being chained to the chair and the essay about the First Goblin War. With a sigh she went back to the page, scribbling half-hearted lines, when a familiar voice cut across the silence.
"Oi, Betty! What are you still doing in here? It's perfect weather outside!" Katie grinned as she dropped her bag onto the table, casting a quick glance towards the door. Betty lifted her head.
"I was going to—" she began, but didn't get the chance to finish. Katie grabbed her wrist and pulled her upright.
"No excuses. You've been here long enough. Come on!"
Betty looked down at her parchment, something that wasn't worth to be called an essay, full of scratched-out lines.
"But I'm not done with—"
"Don't worry. I'll let you copy mine. Now move!"
On the one hand, she was worried forgetting her homework again, risking getting points deducted. On the other hand, she really preferred to join Katie going outside. With one last glance at her writings, she gathered them up, tossed them carelessly into her bag, and let Katie pull her along.
Outside, the sun warmed her skin, the air was fairly mild, and the leaves were rustling in a breeze. Despite herself, she felt thankful for being pulled away. Together they wandered towards the lake, its surface reflecting the sunrays in a dark silvery blue, and settled on a flat rock by the shore. Katie pulled off her shoes and dipped her toes into the water, while Betty leaned back on her elbows, closing her eyes for a moment.
"I can't wait for Tuesday," Katie said suddenly. "Our first flying lesson! Finally!"
Betty didn't answer. A ladybird had landed on her robe, and she followed its slow crawl with her eyes, completely entranced. Katie chattered on, words bubbling over another, while she waded through the water, then she turned to Betty and broke off.
"Betty? Are you even listening to me?"
Betty blinked, realising Katie had spoken again. She nodded quickly, hiding her distraction.
"Yes. You sound almost too eager."
Katie narrowed her eyes, scanning Betty's face. "Of course. Aren't you?"
Betty shrugged. "Curious, maybe. I just hope I don't make a fool of myself." Her gaze drifted over the water again.
Flying fascinated her—not the broomstick itself, but the moment when the ground dropped away and the world widened beneath her. Her own flights had been careful ones, never really high or far, her mother's warnings always in her ears. Still, that brief slip of weightlessness had stayed with her, enough to keep her longing for more.
Katie waved it off. "Don't worry. If anyone's going to fall off first, it's McLaggen. He can't stop bragging about how good he is."
She grimaced trying to imitate him.
Betty let out a genuine laugh. The thought of the lesson lingered, a knot mixed in her stomach with real anticipation. Maybe flying was something she could actually be good at.
By Tuesday morning, the Gryffindor table was buzzing. The first flying lessons would be held this afternoon, and almost every first-year looked restless—some fidgeting, others pale and some simply excited. Betty stirred her porridge absently, her eyes on Katie, who was unusually quiet. Her toast remained untouched, her gaze staring into the void.
"I barely slept," Katie muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Yesterday I couldn't wait. Now it feels like I—I'm going to embarrass myself in front of everyone."
Betty frowned. "But... I thought you were excited and couldn't wait?"
Katie shook her head. "What if I can't even get the broom off the ground? And everyone's watching."
Betty opened her mouth, then closed it again. It wasn't as though she felt calm herself. The thought of lifting off in front of everyone—or worse, not lifting off at all—made her stomach twist. She just wasn't about to say it out loud.
Katie stirred her porridge nervously, her voice dropping low. "I said I hoped McLaggen would be the one to fall, but... what if—what are the odds—that it's me who falls?"
Betty shrugged, stirring her own porridge absentmindedly, still feeling the same knot in her stomach. "We're all first years. It won't be that bad."
Katie pulled a face. "Oh, that's helpful." She studied Betty's expression for a long moment, brow furrowed. "How can you be so calm?"
Betty stopped stirring and looked up at her. "I'm not... I'm nervous too." She pushed her porridge from one side of the bowl to the other.
Katie studied her for a moment, scanning her face as if trying to read her thoughts, and finally said, "No, you're not. You always look so composed, like nothing ever bothers you. You... McGonagall could scold you in front of the whole class for forgetting homework, Snape could be mean, and you just... you always look like things like that doesn't bother you at all."
Betty blinked, caught off guard. She did care. A lot. She hadn't thought about how others saw her, how effortless her calmness seemed to them. She shrugged and met Katie's gaze evenly. "I'm just... good at hiding it, I suppose."
Katie's gaze softened, scanning her face as if to make sure she wasn't joking. "Really?"
Betty gave a small, reluctant shrug, letting a fraction of her unease show. She hesitated, then whispered, "I... I guess forgetting my homework was actually the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me."
Katie held her gaze for a few more seconds, then gave her a warm smile showing relief and understanding.
Suddenly, Betty saw in the corner of her eye Fred leaning toward George, his voice carrying loudly across the table.
"Oh, today's the first-years' first flying lesson. How many do you reckon will fall off their brooms this year, Georgie?"
George tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Hmm, Freddie... at least two. Last year it was three."
Betty rolled her eyes. She knew they were only messing around with them—she could sense the amusement under the surface of their words—but Katie didn't seem to have caught it. Wide eyed, she stared at the twins, her fork clinking against the plate as her fingers fidgeted. Out of the corner of her eye, Betty spotted Fay and Holly not far away. Holly had apparently heard what the twins had said as she stopped eating, staring at Fred and George with the same horrified expression as Katie.
Betty shook her head slightly, half amused, half annoyed, whispering to Katie, "They're just kidding," to which Katie responded with an uncertain, tense glance, shifting her gaze between Betty and the twins.
"I won't, trust me," Cormac announced suddenly, loud enough so everyone turned their heads. He sat up straight. "Not to brag but—I might even make into the Quidditch house team. I can show you how it's done, you know."
That snapped Katie out of her trance. She blinked at him and said, almost sharply, "First years aren't allowed."
"They'll make an exception," Cormac said with a confident wave, as if it were already settled.
George chuckled. "Oh, I don't think so." Fred leaned in with a grin. "Not when there are already new ones on the team." He winked at the girls. "We're the new Beaters."
"Oh, congrats." Betty said monotonously, then watched Katie again. Her friend had gone quiet, eyes fixed on a spot in the distance, her spoon still turning in restless circles on the bowl. Before leaving for class, George leaned over to Betty whispering, "You'll be alright", and gave her an encouraging smile.
Classes dragged on. With each passing hour Katie grew more restless, giving Betty nervous looks, while drumming her fingers on the desk. History of Magic was even duller than the week before. Professor Binns drifted through the classroom, his voice droning about wizarding laws of the early modern era, oblivious to the glazed eyes around him. Most students scribbled nonsense on their parchment or stared blankly ahead. When the bell finally rang, they rose from their seats. But the moment they left the room, Cormac's voice cut through the hallway—louder than necessary.
"Honestly," he began, swinging his bag over his shoulder a little too forcefully. "Binns got it wrong. Muggles weren't stupid. Their fear of witches and wizards was real—of course it was. Strange things happening all around them, things they couldn't control, you know. But the ones in power used that fear. They turned it into a tool to keep people in line. And Binns just goes on as if Muggles were nothing but clueless. That's not true."
He spoke quickly, pressing his words forward as though someone might cut him off if he didn't hurry. His grin flickered once, checking if anyone was listening, before he carried on. Mira walked beside him, nodding along, agreeing on what he said. Katie rolled her eyes, muttered "Not again," and pulled on Betty's sleeve. Betty, however, lingered for a moment, listening as they walked down the corridor. She would never tell Katie, but Cormac's determination and the certainty with which he argued took her by surprise. He had clearly thought about it more than most. Now he was on about the Wizengamot in the seventeenth century, insisting it had shaped Muggle ideas of magic far more than anyone realised. Betty shook her head faintly, then fell back into step with Katie.
On the Quidditch pitch, the Slytherins had already gathered in a group, casting mocking looks at the Gryffindors, as if to show who the better fliers would be. Adrian Rosier stood beside some other Slytherin boys, arms folded and smirking. Betty looked over the pitch; it was large, with grandstands forming a half-circle with seats set high. The sky was grey, and a crisp September breeze swept across the grass. When they stopped beside the Slytherines, rows of school brooms waited in front of them. The handles were cracked with age and the bristles were bent.
Then Madam Hooch walked onto the field. Her silvery grey hair caught the light and her hawk yellow eyes swept sharply over the students. She gave a brief introduction of herself as their flying instructor and Hogwarts' Quidditch coach.
"Stand properly beside your broomsticks!"
Her voice carried authority and the students quickly fell into line.
"Place your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up!'" she instructed with firm voice. "With conviction. Your broom will only respond if you order it with determination."
A chorus of "Up!" filled the air. Around them, broomsticks responded in every possible way; some stayed stubbornly on the ground, others jumped about wildly, and a few rose exactly as intended. Fay groaned when hers didn't twitch an inch, while Cormac cursed loudly as his smacked him in the knee. Betty seemed to know instinctively what to do. She stretched her hand over the broom.
"Up!"
The broom shivered and then, with a sharp snap, jumped straight into her hand.
Beside her, Katie's broom rose even faster. Betty shot her a look of recognition, which Katie returned with a grin.
Madam Hooch's eyes wandered over the students.
"Good. Now, get on your brooms. Push off gently and float just above the ground. Keep your balance. No tricks. Above all, no accidents!"
Betty settled onto her broom cautiously, remembering she hadn't flown properly since she was nine, never allowed more than a few feet in the air.
"On my mark!" Madam Hooch called. "Three... two... one—now!"
Betty pushed off the ground. The broom trembled slightly. She sat stiffly, gripping the handle with her knees pressed together, her whole body tense, every movement focused on keeping her balance. Everything felt wrong—the sway, her awkward adjustments, the constant effort to stay upright. She noticed Katie above her, moving smoothly and confidently through the air above them all.
Taking a deep breath, Betty let herself recall what Tonks had shown her the first time she had sat on a broom, remembering hwo to keep her hands and posture. She slowly leaned forward, testing her balance against. Her movements were still stiff but gradually became smoother. Bit by bit she made small corrections, tentative turns, her thighs were soon burning, but at least she stayed in the air.
Meanwhile Katie flew curves ahead with ease, her broom seemed to respond instantly to her commands. Betty could only watch in awe.
"Bell! Slow down, and no tight curves!" Madam Hooch's sharp voice rang out, not in anger but with a hint of surprise. "You have control, yes—but with caution, please!"
Katie flew back, falling obediently into line. Betty felt her own tension start to ease as the broom steadied beneath her and the swaying gradually lessened. A rare silence settled in her mind, no thoughts, no worries—only the sense of keeping balance and the rhythm of her breath. Slowly, a sense of freedom settled. She felt as if she were becoming one with the broom, as if she were part of the air itself, moving more naturally and effortlessly. It was a liberating feeling, as if all the weight and pressure had been lifted from her.
Around her, a few other students hovered just above the ground. Mira and Holly floated carefully, their brooms swaying slightly with each gust, while another Slytherin girl followed Rosier's lead with precision. Fay now followed Cormac, struggling to keep up with him, but she persisted, nonetheless.
Off to her other side, Cormac tried to climb higher, and though his flight was a bit jerky and he was constantly adjusting, yet it was clear he was a good flyer indeed, even if not as steady or smooth as Katie. He shouted advices about how to keep knees and shoulders in perfect position to anyone within earshot, though few paid attention. Rosier drew sharp, controlled circles above them, climbing higher than permitted, as if intending to stake his claim in the air and surpass Katie.
Betty blocked everything out, now daring to fly higher, carefully matching Katie's pace as she met her in the air. Katie grinned at her and shouted, "Not bad, Black," then pointed with her chin toward the goal rings. Together, they navigated the rings in a cautious slalom, Betty thrilled by the rush of wind and the sense of flight, so caught up in the excitement that they completely forgot Madame Hooch's warning about avoiding tricks.
"Bell! Black! DOWN! Now!" Madam Hooch's voice cut trhough the pitch. Katie immediately pulled into a dive. Betty followed, slowing carefully before landing with a slight jolt. Her chest rose and fell fast, but the trembling was gone; the adrenaline was still humming in her veins. Katie landed nearby with a sweeping movement.
"Bell!" Madam Hooch barked. "What did I just say? This is not a playground, and not Quidditch tryouts. When I say land—you land. No detours!" Katie lowered her gaze, though relief still lingered on her face.
Madam Hooch surveyed them, arms crossed. Her eyes settled on Katie first. "Still... I rarely see first years so instinctive on a broom. Bell—you will try out next year. Seriously. That's an order, not a suggestion." Then her gaze shifted to Betty, and her hand gestured toward Cormac. "Black—you'll need a bit more time, but there's definite promise. McLaggen—same for you. Not raw beginners, either of you. With training, your house team will want new players next year. Rosier—the same goes for you."
Cormac straightened up instantly with his chin lifted, as though Madam Hooch had confirmed what he always knew. Katie nudged Betty with her elbow, her eyes sparkling. "Did you hear that?"
"Yes," Betty said quietly, eyes still fixed on Madam Hooch.
When she finally turned around, she caught Adrian Rosier watching Katie. His gaze was neither arrogant nor hostile but assessing. His stare lingered for too long, as if he were measuring her up. Then he looked away, saying nothing. Betty glanced at Katie and smiled. This had been by far the best lesson of them all.
After dinner, Betty and Katie returned to the Gryffindor common room with the others. The fire in the hearth crackled quietly, filling the room with warmth, and the space buzzed with voices, laughter, and the soft rustle of parchment as some students still worked on homework. Betty felt her body ache more with each step, but she didn't mind.
She collapsed onto the soft sofa in front of the fire, while Katie made herself comfortable on the armrest. "That was pretty exciting today," Katie said, grinning.
Betty nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. The tingling in her fingers lingered, as if the wind from flying had imprinted itself on her skin.
"Did I hear that right?" a familiar voice suddenly called out. "A first-year impressing Madam Hooch so much she's already put you down for next year's Quidditch tryouts?"
Betty opened her eyes and saw Fred and George standing there, both wearing mischievous grins.
"I've got to say, respect," Fred said. "That's impressive. Usually, we have to stop first years from blowing themselves off their brooms."
George nodded. "Apparently a natural. That doesn't come along often. Hooch already marked you for next year, right?"
Katie lifted her chin. "She made it clear it wasn't a request." Her tone carried pride, but not arrogance—more like someone quietly surprised at her own skill.
Fred and George stood close together, sharing an almost conspiratorial smile. Fred glanced at Betty and gave her a wink.
"Then this comes at the perfect time," Fred said teasingly, "Charlie, our Seeker, and, Vicky, our Chaser are in their final year. If you're good—and from what we heard today, you are—this could be interesting for you."
Katie practically bounced on the armrest. "This is my chance!"
Betty leaned back, watching her friend with admiration.
George leaned forward slightly. "And you, Betty? How was it for you?"
Betty hesitated, then shrugged slowly. "Not bad. It was... freeing, somehow. Like my mind went completely still. And it felt... easy. Free."
Katie rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "Miss-I'm-always-so-humble. But seriously, Betty, you were really good. For someone who's never flown properly. Even Madam Hooch said you have potential."
Fred whistled softly. "Well, if Hooch says it, that's more than polite praise. She doesn't give that out lightly."
Betty looked from one to the other, then back at Katie. Her heart still beat a little faster, but this time it wasn't adrenaline—it was anticipation, maybe even hope. She couldn't wait for the next lessons next week.
"Impressive. Really impressive," came a voice from the edge of the room. Cormac stood there, arms loosely crossed, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.
"Maybe you just had a good day," he added, as if both downplaying and acknowledging their achievements at the same time.
Betty looked at him but said nothing. Katie rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.
"Interesting," Katie countered dryly. "Because Hooch said you're not exactly a complete beginner, and yet today you didn't get in anyone's way."
Cormac lifted his chin slightly, and for a brief moment there was a flicker of uncertainty in his expression before he stepped closer.
"I didn't mean to steal the spotlight," he said with a shrug. "But if this counts as being a natural, then... I guess I'm not doing so badly either." His tone was half teasing, half challenging.
Katie snorted. "Of course… you're just annoyed because your praise came with a 'if you train hard' attached."
"And that's still more than most get," Betty said calmly.
Cormac met her gaze, and for a fleeting second there was no arrogance, just a quick spark of joy.
"You weren't bad," he admitted. "If you like, I could give you a few tips. Might help you get faster and steadier."
Betty leaned back and frowned slightly. "Thanks, but I'll wait for the next lessons. I want to figure it out myself first."
Cormac nodded once, as if he had accepted her answer, though he had clearly hoped for more. "We'll see how it goes next time," he muttered, turning back to the group.
"Always the same McLaggen," George muttered, shaking his head as he watched him.
"He takes off before the broom even moves," Fred added with a grin.
After Cormac left with a pout and took his seat next to a group consisting of Garreth, Carl and Mira, Katie glanced toward Fred and George, raising an eyebrow, as if she suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, and you two are the new Beaters?"
Fred grinned, leaning slightly forward. "Very true, Miss Bell."
George smirked, adding, "We've definitely seen the new Gryffindor talent today. I mean, if you two keep at it... this could be an interesting season."
Fred jabbed his shoulder lightly at George. "But soon, we'll be the ones keeping everyone in line on the pitch. So a little respect is in order."
Katie rolled her eyes, laughing, while Betty watched them with quiet amusement. Eventually, she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling no rush, only a quiet certainty—she had flown. And she could do it again. A small grin tugged at her lips as she imagined the wind on her face, the broom steady beneath her.
* * *
By October, autumn had fully settled over the Hogwarts grounds; the trees had taken in deep shades of orange and red. Betty had become used to her new home over time. She often wandered around the castle after classes, exploring its corridors—which portraits were awake at which hour, where the staircases would lead her to. Hogwarts felt alive, and Betty enjoyed these quiet moments between lessons, homework, and the endless hum of voices and noises.
That morning, the corridors were calm. Most students were already at breakfast, and from the Great Hall came the muffled sound of voices, the clatter of cutlery, and the tempting smell of fresh bread and bacon. Betty descended the wide staircase to the ground floor and stepped inside. She paused briefly, letting the light falling in long stripes through the tall windows wash over her, and watched the flickering candles above the house tables. It was a familiar sight, yet each time it impressed her anew. At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George were sitting with Lee. Their eyes caught hers as she approached, and as she took a seat, Fred grinned immediately.
"Betty," he whispered, "how about helping us with a little prank?"
"Just harmless fun," George added with a wink. "We could use a bit of chaos around here."
Betty chewed thoughtfully on her toast, glancing from one to the other. She had seen some of their antics before—some amusing, others outright risky. The thought of a little mischief was tempting, but...
"I don't know," she murmured, keeping her eyes on her plate. She remembered the fun they had had back then, during the summer she had spent with the Burrows, fun she did want to experience again. But then something else came to mind. "I don't want to get into trouble."
Percy, sitting a few seats away, straightened immediately. "Leave her alone," he said sharply. "What are you planning this time? Do I have to write to Mum again? Not everyone cares about your rule-breaking."
Fred let out a theatrical sigh. "Here comes Percy, the human rulebook, once more."
George muttered dryly, "I hope he ends up in the Ministry. That's where he belongs."
The twins shrugged. Betty suppressed a smile, resting her hand on the table and looking at them. "Maybe... I promised, after all."
Fred and George exchanged a triumphant look, and George grinned. "Don't worry, it'll happen."
From across the table, Katie leaned toward Betty. "Later, we want to play 'Exploding Snap' with the others in the common room," she said casually. "If you want to join."
Betty nodded vaguely. "I might come." Her voice was sincere but hesitant.
Instead of joining the others, Betty turned down a side corridor leading away from the bustle of the Great Hall. The passage was high and cool, with rough stone walls and windows letting in dim light. The sounds of the hall faded behind her, the noises finally eased.
Her steps echoed softly on the stone floor. She let her hand glide over the rough stone once more; the cold stone, there was something she felt drawn to. Betty spotted a broad stone ledge beneath a tall window. Without hesitation, she climbed up and let her legs dangle and turned to see through the panel. Outside, heavy clouds moved across the sky, the wind tugged at the treetops, and single colourful leaves drifted silently through the air. And even though the weather was dark grey and stormy, she found the scene surprisingly calming. There was something comforting about seeing the world from above. She drew a deep breath, letting her eyes follow the grey sky, and decided she would take a walk outside later. But before she could hop down from the ledge, a croaking laugh broke the quiet.
"Ooooooh, and what do we have here? A little first-year... all alone?"
A small, lanky figure with wild hair sticking out in every direction and bright, mischievous eyes hovered in the air. From the moment he appeared, the air seemed to ripple. This was no ordinary ghost—he looked solid compared to the Hogwarts ghosts, his ragged, and mismatched clothes were colourful who were pearly white and transparent. This had to be Peeves, the poltergeist she had been warned about.
Before she could react, an inkpot flew past her head and splattered against the wall. Instinctively, she ducked as a second one zipped by even closer.
"What's the meaning of this?" she snapped and rose her arms in defence, jumping from the ledge.
Peeves spun slowly in the air, his grin growing wider. "Some exercise, huh? I throw, you dodge—good training for little first-years."
Betty stepped back, assessing him. Arguing seemed to be pointless. And also she was told, Peeves could be quiet annoying but he was mostly harmless.
"No thanks. Find someone else."
"I insist!" Peeves shrieked, preparing to launch another object.
But before the next one could reach her, a clear voice rang through the corridor, "Peeves! Stop this!"
Peeves froze and turned. At the end of the hall stood Tonks, her eyes narrowed and her wand already raised.
"Langlock!"
There was a dull thud, followed by a wet smacking sound. Peeves clutched his throat, desperately trying to make a sound. But he remained silent. He growled angrily, gave Betty an offended look, and disappeared through the wall, cursing.
Betty exhaled in relief, then turned around to Tonks. "Thank you... that was honestly quite effective."
Tonks let a small smile tug at her lips. "Indeed, very practical. Remember it. Especially if you run into someone like Peeves often."
Betty brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "I didn't think he'd be that easy to get rid of."
"He isn't," Tonks agreed, "But he knows when he's beaten. And he knows me too—I'm not exactly new here anymore." She glanced at Betty, her eyes softening. "So... how are you settling in?"
Betty shrugged, tucking a loose strand behind her ear, that kept falling into her forehead. She sighed. "I didn't expect so much homework. I mean, I knew there'd be some, but..." She trailed off with a small laugh. "it's so boring."
Tonks chuckled. "That'll be every day, kiddo. Until you'll eventually leave. But it's manageable."
Suddenly, Betty remembered something Katie had said a few weeks ago—how Betty always looked like she didn't care, always too calm, always too reserved. A flicker of curiosity rose up in her. "Tonks—Do you... do you think I seem too composed? Like I never really care about anything?"
Tonks narrowed her eyes slightly, tilting her head as she studied her. The moment stretched on, filled with deliberation and care before she nodded. "Yes, you are quite composed... for an eleven-year-old." Her voice softened. "But it's also unusual for someone your age to be... an Occlumens. But don't worry too much about it."
Betty blinked, taking in Tonks' words. Composed, yes... but maybe she didn't have to be like this all the time, she thought. She could try—little by little—to let more of what she really felt slip through. Not now, not recklessly, but someday. Someday, she might test it. "I... okay. I'll try."
Tonks allowed a faint grin to slip. "Good. You're not boring, I promise. And now—back to more fun stuff."
Betty looked at Tonks, still smiling from the exchange, as Peeves' earlier antics lingered in her mind. "That was... pretty cool. I mean what you did to Peeves. I didn't know that spell."
Tonks laughed. "Useful if you ever tangle with Peeves again. Or with stupid boys."
Betty grinned and giggled. "That was brilliant. I need to remember that charm."
"Absolutely," Tonks said with a wide grin. "Especially if you're sneaking around the castle at night."
Betty raised an eyebrow then she grinned mischievously. "Sneaking around at night? You're planting dangerous ideas in my head. Don't worry—I'd never actually do that."
"Of course, kiddo," Tonks replied dryly. "And I'm Slytherin Prefect, remember."
Betty's grin widened. "So you wander around when you're supposed to be asleep?"
"Sometimes," Tonks admitted with a shrug. "Last week, I almost got caught trying to rescue a pudding from the kitchen after curfew."
"And how did you manage that?"
"I turned into Professor Sprout and marched through the castle with a serious face. For a moment, I almost believed I was her myself."
Betty's eyes went wide. "You transformed into Sprout? And it worked?"
"Of course. Flowerpot under the arm, plant names muttered—Filch let me through without a word."
Betty laughed outright. "You're bonkers."
Tonks grinned, eyes sparkling. "Possibly. But with method. And you? You seem... well-behaved, but not boring."
Betty shrugged lightly. "I just haven't had the chance to be naughty yet. Even though Fred and George keep trying."
Tonks laughed. "Oh dear. Charlie's brothers... they really are something else. Poor Mrs Weasley. I'm sure she's long given up trying to rein them in."
She winked at Betty. "Look after yourself. And if another inkpot flies at you—just call for me. Or for Langlock."
Betty waved goodbye and made her way down the corridors and stairs. The heavy front door swung shut behind her with a low creak.
Outside, the wind was still blowing. It felt cool against her skin and tossed her curls into her face as she crossed the steps. Betty walked slowly, without purpose, over the grounds. Her gaze drifted back to the castle, its high towers standing almost peacefully under the grey sky.
Most of all, it was the Forbidden Forest that drew her. Since her first day, she had found herself wondering what was hidden behind those dark trees. Instinctively, her steps drew her toward the Forbidden Forest. As she approached the tree line, she stopped. A faint rustle came from the bushes below. She frowned as she scanned the maze of roots, spotting something small, dark and fast moving. A Kneazle, perhaps? Or some other creature? She stepped forward cautiously. Just as she walked closer to the the edge of the forest, a deep, warning voice sounded behind her.
"Now, now, now, young lady, where d'you think yeh're goin'?"
Betty spun around. Hagrid stood there with his arms crossed and a serious but not angry look on his face. On the contrary, he had a reassuring and friendly presence. Beside him sat a massive, drooling dog, eyes squinting at the dark forest. When Hagrid stepped slightly toward the treeline, the dog whimpered and nudged closer, staying pressed to his legs.
"I just...," Betty hesitated, unable to think of a good enough excuse, so she just stuck to the truth. "I wanted to see what's moving in the forest."
Hagrid snorted softly but firmly. "Don' get me wrong, I like it when someone's int'rested in magical creatures, really, I do. Even grown wizards think twice 'fore steppin' in there. 's called the forbidden forest fer a reason."
Betty nodded slowly and glanced back at the edge of the forest. "But you go in often, don't you? And you know the creatures..."
"'course!" Hagrid said emphatically. "I know every beast in there. But I'm a bit bigger an' tougher 'n yeh lot, an' I know where 's smart not ter step." He fixed her with a serious look. "The forest ain' a place ter wander around or fool abou'. Sometimes 's wiser ter watch from a distance."
Betty glanced at the dog, which was still pressed against Hagrid's side with its ears flat and its head low, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else but here. "Well, at least there's two of you, then."
Hagrid looked down at Fang, shaking his head slightly. "Fang? He's more scared o' the forest 'n all the students together. One branch snaps an' he's at the hut door. But if ye really wanna learn more 'bout magical creatures—come by me hut sometime. I'll show ye some harmless ones, an' maybe tell ye 'bout the ones wha' live in the forest."
Betty's face brightened. "Really? You'd show me?"
"O' course!" Hagrid said. "But on'y if yeh promise me—yeh don' sneak off inter the forest alone again, 'kay?"
"Promise," Betty nodded enthusiastically. "I really want to learn more about magical creatures."
Hagrid seemed satisfied, examining her more closely. Then he frowned. "Ehh, yeh are girl who saved the boy, ai? Wha's your name exactly?"
"Betty Black," she answered calmly.
His face changed instantly. The friendly openness disappeared, replaced by a quiet, almost sad expression. "Black, huh? Little one o' Sirius Black?"
Betty nodded, surprised that he had recognised the name immediately. "Yes. He's my father."
Hagrid's gaze darkened further. He lowered his head slightly, staring past her into the distance. Betty felt her chest tighten, a sudden weight settling in her.
"Tragic story...," he murmured. "Never thought he'd do somethin' like tha'. They were like brothers..."
Betty shivered, even though the air was mild. She knew it was about her father, though no one had ever explained exactly what had happened. Only hints, fragments. Her mother never spoke of it, and she herself had never dared to ask. Sometimes Betty clung to the thought that it had been a misunderstanding. That maybe her father wasn't guilty. That there was another explanation. But there were no answers. She felt the weight coming from Hagrid, pressing the air around her. He said nothing more. Only the wind moved the leaves at the forest's edge. Eventually, Hagrid cleared his throat and pulled himself together.
"Ah, nothin'... bin a long time, yeh know. Sorry, tha' was a bit outta place."
Betty wanted to ask him something and probe further; she wanted to find out more about her father. However, she sensed that he wasn't going to reveal any more than other adults had. And Betty wouldn't push him.
"No problem," she said gently instead.
Hagrid nodded and shifted the conversation, but avoided looking at her directly. "Well, take care, Betty... an' remember, if ye're ever int'rested in magical creatures, come by, eh? Fang an' me, we're always happy t'see visitors."
"I will. Thanks, Hagrid," Betty waved once more at the dog, who wagged his tail in response — at least until another rustle in the forest caused him to duck behind Hagrid's legs again.
As she made her way along the gravel path, his words lingered in her mind—the invitation to learn more about magical creatures, the unexpected connection to someone who had known her father. It left a strange, comforting feeling, as though a small piece of home had suddenly become tangible. Betty felt her thoughts drift to her mother and family, so far away. A faint pang mixed with the desire to reach out, to show she was here, settled, and finding her place.
Suddenly she realised she hadn't written to her mother yet—though the first weeks had been exhausting and full of new experiences, she should have sent word already. Most likely her mother had even been waiting. Without hesitation, Betty ran back into the castle. The Gryffindor common room hummed with activity. The fire crackled in the fireplace, students bent over homework, playing Wizard's Chess, or speaking quietly.
Katie waved to her from a window seat. "Everything okay?"
"Yep... I just need to finally write to my mum. I haven't written her yet."
Sitting beside Katie, Holly looked surprised. "What? Not at all? I write to my parents at least once a week. They're slowly even figuring out how the owls work."
Betty shrugged, but her expression darkened. She felt a small tug in her stomach—guilt. "I just... forgot," she murmured, biting her lower lip.
"Well, better late than never," Katie said encouragingly.
Betty nodded, pulling quill, ink, and parchment out of her bag, throwing herself into a chair. Then she took a deep breath and began to write about everything she'd experienced the past weeks; it was messy. Once finished, she rolled the letter carefully, tied it with a thin string, and left the common room. She climbed to the Owlery upward. At the top, the air smelled of hay, bird droppings, and old stone. Betty approached the perches where a few owls from the school were resting. A brown and white tawny owl raised its head and watched her intently.
"Hey, can you take this to London?" she asked, holding out the letter and gently stroking the little owl's head.
The owl closed its eyes contentedly, as if enjoying the caress. The owl allowed the parchment to be tied to its leg, then launched into the sky with a powerful flap of wings. Betty watched until it disappeared into the slowly darkening sky. She returned to the common room and finally joined the girls for a round of Exploding Snap.
But suddenly, They were like brothers, Hagrid's words still lingering in her mind. I thought he'd never do something like that. What did he mean?