November 1990, Hogwarts.
The sky was grey and hazy over Hogwarts on the morning of the first Quidditch match; wind swept through the trees down in the Forbidden Forest. Betty had slept poorly, just like the nights before. The thought of what might have been kept from her, still lingered in her mind. Yawning, she rolled over onto her left side and watched the other girls, who had already been dressed. Fay sat cross-legged behind Holly on her bed, braiding the girl's blonde curls into plaits; her own hair already braided with scarlet and golden highlights that caught the dim light.
"Come on, Betty," Katie said from the door, beaming with energy. Her own ponytail with the same strands as Fay's. "You'll miss breakfast if you keep lying there."
"I'm up," Betty murmured, even though she wasn't. She rolled over once more, just to soak up the warmth of her blanket. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, stretching her arms.
Fay paused for a moment before starting on Holly's second plait.
"I can braid yours too, if you want," she said carefully, trying not to meet Betty's eyes. Betty knew that Fay still felt guilty about Halloween. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and paused for a moment.
"No, but thanks," she said, keeping her tone as polite as possible, and tried to show a faint smile. She didn't know why exactly she declined the offer; the girls' hair looked really pretty, and Betty didn't hold any grudge towards Fay. Before Betty could explain herself; Fay haded nodded once and went back to finishing Holly's plaits. So Betty said nothing.
She began dressing slowly, still shaking off sleep. She ran her hand through her stubbornly knotted hair, wishing it would cooperate, then quickly twisting it into a bun. She pulled on her jumper, then another layer, trying to guess how cold the pitch would be. Her mind wandered yet again to Hagrid's words, wandering what else the adults have kept from her. Part of her wanted top stop thinking about it altogether—some truths might be better be left alone. Yet no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts always returned. Not knowing seemed worse. And since all the adults in her life who had known her father, would always tiptoe around the topic. But it wasn't curiosity anymore; it felt like a desperate need. She wanted to know, even if it hurt.
Her Gryffindor scarf hung over her chair, and she tossed it over her arm before reaching for her warmest robe. Her gloves, however, had vanished. She checked her trunk, her bed, even under her pillow.
"Betty!" Katie called again, already halfway out the door. "We'll be late!"
With a final sigh, Betty gave up the search and followed Katie, hoping she wouldn't need the gloves after all. As they walked down the stairs and corridors, her thoughts circled back. Suddenly an idea came across her mind: Tonks must've been old enough to remember, maybe old enough to even know what really happened. She decided, next time she saw her cousin, she would ask her.
When they reached the Great Hall, the excitement for the first match was unmistakable; it seemed as if the air was vibrating. Students crowded the long tables, Gryffindors and Slytherins all dressed in their house's colours, chatting excitedly, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Even students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw wore scarves and banners of the house they would be supporting.
Betty and Katie slid into their seats opposite Fred and George, who were already surrounded by Lee and two girls—both in scarlet Quidditch uniforms—whom Lee introduced loudly as Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson. Angelina, dark-skinned with neatly plaited hair, leaned back with confidence and greeted with a wide smile; beside her, Alicia, warm-skinned with curls tied into a ponytail, showed a quick, friendly smile and shifted in her seat to make enough room for Betty and Katie to squeeze in.
"Our new Chasers," Fred added with a grin, and made a theatrical hand gesture toward Angelina and Alicia. Betty lifted a hand in greeting before turning to her breakfast, while Katie eagerly joined the conversation with the older girls about wanting to join the team next year.
Fred was already in full swing, and even louder and broader than usual. His hands moved as fast as his mouth spoke, cutting his hands through the air as he described his moves to Lee.
"And then I'll hit the Bludger with the bat—like this!" He grabbed an apple and slammed his hand against it.
Lee jumped immediately with amusement. "Weasley hit the Bludger—oh, almost hitting Johnson by the head!"
Angelina caught the apple before it could hit her.
"You better not knock me out before the match even starts, Weasley," she warned, with sharp expression, setting the apple down. "Save your aim for the Slytherins."
Fred laughed and shrugged completely unbothered. "See? With reflexes like that—you'll be fine."
"Lucky for you I have reflexes," she shot back, smirking. "Otherwise, McGonagall and Charlie wouldn't be happy about your recklessness."
Betty, who was impressed by Angelina's quick reflexes, grinned at the sharp comeback.
Lee snorted; Alicia hid a grin behind her goblet.
Across the table, Betty noticed George sitting lumped on his seat, not engaging in the conversation at all, lazily stirring his porridge. Betty couldn't remember ever seeing him this quiet. He looked over to Fred, who talked even more than usual, while George said too little. She watched him a moment, then nudged his foot lightly under the table and offered a faint smile. She'd be nervous too, if she were playing.
He immediately looked up and glanced around to see who was responsible for the kick. When he met Betty's gaze, he paused briefly, then smiled back. Eventually, he began eating a little.
Fred was already off again, gesturing wildly as he continued. "Once we're done with them, they'll be begging for mercy—"
"—or for you to stop talking," Angelina interrupted, grabbed the apple Fred had thrown earlier, and tossed it straight at his chest.
Fred reacted immediately, slammed the apple reflexively with a hand movement, and the apple shot straight towards Betty. Without further thinking Betty caught it with one hand.
"Oi, Betty, great catch!" George exclaimed, straightening in his seat.
Fred's eyes widened. "Black's got good reflexes too, huh?"
Katie beamed at Betty, and gave her a broad, proud smile.
Lee darted towards them. "Looks like Bell might have some competition for next year's chasers spot!"
Betty tilted her head, heat rose in her cheeks by the sudden attention, returning a faint smile.
"I think I'll let her have it," fidgeting the apple back lightly in her hands before tossing it back.
Katie looked at Betty for a moment, hesitated and shrugged. "Well, the best one gets it."
Laughter rippled around the table. Even George laughed along this time. Betty smiled faintly. She knew how much Katie wanted that spot and she would never try to take it from her. Besides, she was certain that Katie was better anyway.
After breakfast, Betty wrapped her scarf around her head, the fabric scratching slightly on the neck. As she stepped toward the double door, she almost collided with Tonks, and her friends Julian and Frankie.
"Hey, kiddo!" Tonks called, waving and eyes sparkling. "What do you think of my look?" She tilted her head and pointed to her hair, half red, half golden, twisted into two high buns.
Betty grinned back. "It's fabulous." Her grin fainted slightly as she remembered that she had intended to ask Tonks about her father. But in the hustling crowd in the Entrance Hall, it wasn't quite the right moment, so she quickly pushed the thought aside.
Outside on the pitch, the sky seemed even darker than earlier this morning; a strong cold wind was blowing, and Betty pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, suddenly wishing she had found her gloves. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her robe, trying to ignore the chill. Tonks and her friends waved as they headed toward the Hufflepuff stands.
Up in the stands in the Gryffindor block, which was already filled with older students, who like everyone else, were dressed in the matching colours; they had a view of the entire pitch. The stands were filled with scarlet and golden banners; only the Slytherin stands shone in green and silver. Mira and Cormac were already there with Carl and Garreth. The wind whipped their blushed faces as Katie and Betty settled down next to Holly and Fay. In the centre of the semi-circle of stands, where the teachers and visitors were gathered, Lee sat next to Professor McGonagall.
"Hi ladies and gents, I'm Lee Jordan, your new Quidditch commentator," Lee shouted through the megaphone. His voice echoed clearly across the entire pitch. "Welcome to the first match of the season—Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"
The crowd erupted in loud cheers, making Betty cover her ears; this however did nothing to dampen her rising excitement.
Lee continued, his voice brimming with excitement.
"Applause for the Gryffindor Team! This year, the Weasley twins join as the Beaters, and Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, to join our longstanding Chaser Vicky Ellison!"
Loud cheers erupted from the Gryffindor, but also from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stand. Lee didn't hesitate, before he added, "And they're not only a well-coordinated team but also—well, quite the sight."
Betty saw Professor McGonagall turning to him outraged, shouting "Jordan!" Betty and the girls next to her giggled.
Lee cleared his throat quickly. He continued, a lot less enthusiastic. "Right. And there's the Slytherin team. Same line up as last year."
Cheers rose from the Slytherin stand, though not as loud; a few students from other stands even booing in response.
Eventually, Madam Hooch blew her whistle. Fourteen brooms shot in the air; Gryffindor's to the left; Slytherin's to the right. Madame Hooch sent the Quaffle high in the air, both team's chasers racing toward it.
"Gryffindor in possession—Johnson's got the Quaffle!" Lee announced.
Betty felt the tension in the stands rising as Vicky Johnson—tall, broad-shouldered, and quick as a dart—tucked the Quaffle under her arm and shot forward, with Angelina and Alicia close on either side. The Slytherin Chasers were approaching rapidly, one trying to push Vicky off course. She twisted sharply to avoid the hit and passed the Quaffle cleanly over a Slytherin chaser's shoulder to Alicia.
"Johnson to Spinnet—Spinnet to Ellison—back to Johnson!"
The girls tossed the Quaffle between them so fast Betty could hardly follow. Now Angelina had it, racing towards the rings. She shot forward just as a Bludger came speeding up from the left.
"Johnson by the rings—NO! Bludger incoming—great evasive action! Close call!"
Angelina twisted sharply, the Bludger grazing her sleeve. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Katie shouted something fierce beside Betty, while others booed the Slytherins. Fred and George rushed in, moving quickly, batting the Bludger away from the Gryffindor chasers towards the Slytherin ones. Betty's eyes widened, and her pulse quickening. She was impressed—by the twins' precise timing and strength, and also by the girls' speed and coordination, by the way every move seemed both effortless and exact.
Angelina steadied herself and flew again for the Slytherin rings, but another Bludger came flying toward her. Twisting her broom sharply to avoid it, she lost her grip on the Quaffle.
"Noo!" Katie shouted.
"Slytherin takes possession!" Lee's voice echoed.
Flint caught the Quaffle and sped straight towards Gryffindor's rings. "Flint's flying fast—passing Pucey—back to Flint—he shoots—saved by Wood!"
Gryffindor's keeper Oliver Wood shot high and blocked the ball as if it were the easiest thing.
The Gryffindor stands erupted. Betty could hear Garreth shouting to Cormac and Carl, "That's my brother!"
Betty barely had time to follow—the rebound was already in motion. Angelina had snatched the Quaffle and surged toward the other rings, passing quickly to Alicia, who immediately flicked it to Ellison.
"Johnson to Spinnet—Spinnet to Ellison—she's closing in—she shoots—"
Ellison sped forward, feinted to the left and threw the Quaffle towards the rings. It shot past the Slytherin keeper's hand and through the hoop.
"Ten to zero for Gryffindor!" Lee cheered with joy and was only just prevented from jumping up by Professor McGonagall.
The crowd erupted in loud cheer. Straight ahead at the Hufflepuff stand, Betty noticed Tonks' face morphing into a lion's face roaring loudly.
Betty was overwhelmed with happiness. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest, and she jumped in her seat along with Katie, almost dizzy from the noise. She turned to Holly and Fay, who were both cheering, their eyes wide with excitement.
She rubbed her fingers that now were freezing, having taken on a bluish-grey. She muttered the warming spell, and a faint warmth spread through her palms. Her eyes wandered over to Mira and the boys, all holding a small portable fire in their hands. Slightly shaking her head, Betty scolded herself for not having the same idea. Mira noticed her, tilting her head and a smile appeared on her face as she passed over her little vessel, a bluish flame inside.
"Here," she offered, "you can take it for a while. I don't need it right now."
Gratefully, Betty accepted the vessel, pressing her fingers against it. The heat was pleasant, and spread through her hands, up to her arms, helping her to ground herself among the chaos in the sky above. After a while, she handed it over to Katie who gratefully took it, warming her own hands.
As the match went on, she noticed the sudden tightening of the Slytherin formation, her heart started beating harder. Their movements became sharper and more aggressive. The match intensified. The Slytherins began shoving, blocking and pressing harder against the Gryffindor Chasers. One of the twins sent a Bludger straight into a green robe, almost knocking a Slytherin off balance. The other caught the next one midair, striking it toward the other goal.
The game became even more intense. Goals were scored back-to-back, with the score climbing. Gryffindor stayed ahead with a score of forty to twenty.
The crowd swayed between cheers and groans, every movement of the players in the sky mirrored by the noisy crowd below. Betty's hands were clenched around the edge of her seat. The Chasers moved as if reading one another's minds, looping and diving, red and green streaks cutting through the air.
Then suddenly, Lee's tone changed. "Both Seekers in a dive!"
Charlie Weasley, high above, had tilted his broom into a plunge. The Slytherin Seeker shot after him, both only blurs of colour shooting through the air to the ground. Betty leaned forward, barely breathing, too far to see the snitch with her own eyes.
"The Snitch is in sight!" Lee shouted. "Weasley closing in—Higg's close—"
The Slytherin Seeker tried to cut across Charlie's path, shoulder pressing against him. Then a Bludger appeared from the left.
"Watch out!" Lee yelled. "Bludger incoming!"
Charlie twisted sharply, avoiding being hit and pushing the Slytherin seeker aside. They both paused, searching wildly, but the Snitch had already disappeared again.
"And no catch!" Lee called, his voice with a mix of thrill and disappointment. "Close one."
A low murmur spread across the stands. Meanwhile, Slytherin pressed forward harder, their Beaters now aiming low and ruthless for Gryffindor's chasers. Alicia caught the Quaffle and raced for the rings. She was almost there, ready to throw the Quaffle, when a Bludger came out of nowhere.
It hit her right on the back of her head.
"OUCH! Spinnet's down!" Lee's voice cracked. "That must've hurt—Merlin's beard—did Monkleigh... did he aim for her head? That filthy scum—"
Alicia slipped sideways off her broom, falling limply to the ground. Screams ran through the crowd, so loud that they almost drowned out Lee's curses. Alicia hit the ground that silenced the stands. The Quaffle fell flying, spinning toward the grass. A Slytherin chaser caught it and shot toward the Gryffindor rings, Wood tried to block but failed; yet no one seemed to care, all eyes were on Alicia on the ground. Betty stopped breathing, watching the scene in front of her in horror. A weight pressed against her chest as she dug her trembling fingers into the wooden seat.
Madam Hooch's whistle cut through the air.
"Timeout!" Lee's voice shook.
Hagrid was already running across the pitch, followed by Madam Pomfrey. The Gryffindor team landed in shock. The twins, who were in range, shouted at the Slytherin beater who had shot the Bludger; only Madame Hooch managed to stop them from attacking him by standing between the boys, but she eventually turned to him and shouted at him as well.
Betty's throat tightened as she watched Pomfrey kneel beside Alicia, her wand moving in brisk circles.
Holly's voice trembled behind her. "That... that hit her head—did you see it?"
Fay muttered. "That's got to be a skull fracture."
Betty couldn't look away from the pitch. Hagrid lifted Alicia's motionless body in his arms. Pomfrey walked beside him as they left the field.
Katie grabbed Holly's arm gently. "She'll be fine. Pomfrey can fix anything."
"She's not going to die?" Holly's voice cracked.
Fay shook her head quickly, patting her friend's shoulder. "No. Of course not," she said gently. "It's a pretty common injury."
Betty's stomach turned. She thought of how, among Muggles, such an injury could be the end of someone. When she turned, she saw Holly's face wet with tears, and something in her chest broke loose. Her own eyes filled with tears before she realised it.
The game resumed after a tense silence. Gryffindor, now missing one Chaser, struggled to keep up. Johnson and Ellison fought fiercely, but the rhythm was gone. Betty leaned back in her seat and barely followed the match; her gaze fixed on the spot where Alicia had laid earlier.
"Slytherin now ahead—score now seventy to fifty!" Lee shouted. "Come on, Gryffindor! Give Slytherin a good thrashing!"
"Jordan!" it came from McGonagall.
Next to Betty, Katie leaned back with slouching posture, as if her energy had drained after the incident.
"Weasley's seen it!" Lee shouted. "The Snitch! He's going for it!"
Betty leaned forward just out of habit rather than excitement, her eyes following the blur of red as Charlie dove. The Snitch hovered above the ground. Charlie stretched his right arm out, closed his fingers—then caught it.
"He's got it! Weasley has the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!"
The stands exploded in cheers. Around them, students jumped and shouted, but Betty stayed seated. Her stomach felt tight, her fingers curling around the edge of the bench to stop the tremor in her hands. She knew Alicia would be alright, but she couldn't shake off the hollow feeling in her stomach. The noise from the stands seemed distant now, muffled by the ringing in Betty's ears. Katie jumped up and down with returning joy, clapping enthusiastically with the cheering crowd. When she looked down at Betty, she paused briefly and gave Betty a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"Come on, we won!"
Betty nodded, then she stood too—slowly, not as enthusiastically as the others—but she began clapping along in the same rhythm. Eventually, she let herself be affected by the crowd, loosening the weight in her chest and a smile appeared on her face.
The Gryffindor common room was filled with laughter and chatter, as if it were resonating from every corner. Fred and George had themselves celebrated like heroes by their classmates; the twins stood in the middle of the room surrounded by a few girls, re-enacting scenes from their recent victory over Slytherin. However, Alicia's absence from the celebrations due to her stay in the hospital wing slightly dampened the mood. After the game, Angelina and Charlie had gone straight there to check on her.
Betty sat on the rug close to the fire, leaning on the sofa behind her, warming her freezing legs. Behind her Holly, Fay and Katie had squeezed together, excited chattering about the match.
"I must write my parents about this. They're not going to believe this!" Holly exclaims.
Katie leaned toward her, her eyes wide. "Did you see that pass at the beginning—absolute perfection."
Holly bounced in her seat, still flushed with excitement. "I've never seen anything like it!"
Suddenly the students around them erupted in cheers; Betty turned just as Charlie and Angelina climbed through the portrait hole, their cheeks still flushed from the cold and warm smiles spread across both of their faces.
"We're just back from the Hospital wing—Alicia will be back on her feet in no time!" Charlie announced.
The common room exploded in cheers again, louder this time. Betty sat quietly between them, the warmth from the fire shining on her face, and smiling faintly, but soon the noise started to press against her. It was still early afternoon, enough time to do some exploring, she stood quietly and slipped unnoticed towards the portrait, craving to find some quiet. Once the portrait had closed, a peaceful calmness settled around her.
Betty muffled her steps magically, just as she had always done at home, or at Zuberi's. She wandered the corridors, what seemed endlessly, taking stairs up and down she had yet to discover; cold wind brushing her cheeks, entering the castle through the cracks in the stone. Her chest tightened with the quiet thrill of being alone, a luxury in the bustling castle.
As she rounded a corner, a flicker of movement caught her attention, right in the middle of the corridor—Mrs Norris. The cat's yellow eyes glimmed in the dim light coming from the torches on the stone walls, and her tail flicked in measured observation. Betty stood still for a moment, meeting the cat's eyes.
"Hey there, girl," Betty murmured.
Mrs Norris hissed but didn't move. Betty slowly crouched down, lowered herself on the cragged stone floor; the cold immediately creeping into her limbs, yet she didn't let that bother her. She watched the reluctant cat and didn't make any quick movements. Cautiously, she began brushing her fingers over the rough stone, making quiet clicking sounds with her tongue, trying to allure the suspicious cat.
For a long time, neither of them moved. Then—to Betty's surprise—Mrs Norris stepped forward. Slowly, and deliberately, until she was just within arm's reach. Betty was about to lift her arm but stilled.
She smiled faintly. "See? I'm not that bad."
Before she could move further, the cat hissed again, louder and sharper this time, fur and tail raised. Betty froze, didn't dare to make any wrong movements, though her heartbeat quickened instantly. Then she slowly shook her head.
"They must've been awful to you," she said softly. "You don't trust anyone lightly, do you?"
Mrs Norris' tail flickered before she turned and stepped down the corridor, vanishing around the corner. Betty watched her, pity settling in her chest. She stood, brushing the dust from her hands, and the cold from her limbs.
"Next time," she muttered, "I'll bring her some food."
The silence returned, though Betty could still feel her heart beating in her chest, and only the faint flickering light of the torches were moving. She exhaled, then continued walking, having lost all sense of direction, and regretted not having brought any of her books with her. The next corridor she turned into caught her attention in a way she couldn't describe. Her skin began to prickle, the air seemed to thicken, and it was as if an invisible force was pulling her towards it. She stopped for a moment, without knowing why.
Then, lost in thoughts, she walked up and down the corridor, unsure where to go next, when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention—and froze. To her surprise, a small wooden door with a worn out door knob had appeared to her right. She could have sown that door had not been there a moment ago. She walked towards it, her fingertips almost brushing the knob, then she stopped. She hesitated, wondering whether she should enter. The air felt different now, almost expectant. Then curiosity won, and she turned the knob, slowly opening the door.
What she found inside left her speechless. High ceilings arched overhead, the low sun casting light through tall windows with cushioned window sills. Huge shelves lined in the middle of the room, overflowed with hundreds of books. Opposite the windows was a huge fireplace, its fire dancing and crackling. Warmth slowly flowed through Betty, and she rubbed her freezing fingers, just now realising how cold Hogwarts' corridors were. Betty stepped in carefully closing the door behind her. She walked along the high shelves, letting her fingers brush over the spines, feeling a satisfaction and calm that she hadn't felt in weeks.
Randomly, she pulled out a few books, one was bound in deep green leather, etched with golden runes that glim faintly in the sunlight. Its edges were dull and worn out, its pages filled with complex sketches of rituals she didn't recognise. She put it back in its place, and pulled another one, smaller but thicker than the other, bound in black cotton, titled Indigenous Magic of the Andes. She flipped it through the pages, fascinated by the depiction of spells performed without a wand. Many of those techniques relied on gestures and chants in an indigenous language Betty couldn't identify, involving precise movements of the whole body, rather than the flick of a wand or even a gesture with the hand, like the ones Zuberi used.
Betty found another book, Ancient Persia and its Traditional Magic, filled with spells in Farsi; then another Old Germanic Runes: Long Lost Magic and its Significance Today. Fascinated, she went through the pages, looking for one spell to try. Unlike Farsi or the native languages of South America, she understood those, having been taught a little about Ancient Runes by her aunt. Intrigued by the spells, which also didn't involve wands, she went through the pages. She traced one diagram with her finger, imagining herself performing the motion. Wandless magic had always fascinated her, seeing Zuberi do it so effortlessly, and yet she had got used to performing spells with a wand, the idea of learning all spells wandlessly thrilled her. She stopped at one spell, imitated the shown hand movement and spoke the incantation.
"Liuhta!"
A loud bang made her flinch. Instead of the promised shimmering sphere form that was supposed to appear on her palm, books flew of the shelves with a loud crack, crashing on the floor. Startled by the mess she had made, she let her gaze flick back to book, only to realise her incorrect pronunciation. Apparently, her Old Germanic was not as flawless as she thought, carefully pushing the book back into its place. She picked up the books from the floor to put them back on the empty shelf.
She walked down along the shelves, determined to find a book that would fit her interests. A thin volume caught her attention, Nonverbal Magic: Advanced Techniques. She opened it eagerly, scanning the pages. The introduction read:
The performance of spells non-verbally requires practice, as it demands concentration and mental discipline. It is important to note that not all spells can be performed non-verbally with equal efficacy; Moreover, the performance may also be influenced by the type of wood, the core, and the harmony of the materials from which the wand is made.
Fascinated, she flipped through the pages, intrigued by the idea of not having to speak the incantations aloud. Thrilled, she found out, that thestral tale hair seemed to be particularly suitable for nonverbal spells. When she practiced elemental magic, she was already used to performing it silently, but unlike with a wand, it still felt harder for Betty to get the technique just right. She set the book aside to return to later. Her attention was drawn to another, larger volume: The History of Magical Tools and Practices. Not exactly what she had been looking for, yet she began to flip through it.
Settling on the floor between the high shelves, she started reading. The book traced down how wands became popular roughly 2,500 years ago, detailing their craftsmanship, which woods and cores were chosen for different purposes, and how in some cultures they gradually became the primary channel for magic. Wands allowed their users to focus and channel magic; many ancient societies had instead relied on rituals, gestures, runes, or melodies, paired with rigid concentration, to structure their spells—methods that just differently organised, not less effective. The wand, combined with specifically designed incantations, became a shortcut. European wizards and witches quickly adopted wand use, developing spells tailored to the tool. Many of those spells originated in Latium, in what is now central Italy. After the rise of the Roman Empire across Europe, Latin-based spells became the standard, eventually mandatory in magical practice. Some wand spells could be performed without a wand, but only when the spell was fully visualised and understood; most of them however required precise channelling and were far more efficient with a wand—or simply replaced by other spells that didn't depend on one.
Betty remembered Zuberi explaining that relying on wands made magic easier to monitor for a Ministry, while wandless magic was harder to detect. In Uagadou, where Zuberi taught, students learned wandless techniques from the start. European settlers throughout Africa—but also other parts of the world—in Kenya mostly British wizards during the last century, had introduced wands and enforced their use, often forbidding wandless incantations and indigenous rituals; considering those as primitive and inferior partly out of fear, and partly because it was difficult to control. In some areas, ancient knowledge had nearly vanished. Only after the end of colonisation, less than thirty years ago, when elders had secretly preserved and passed on the old practices, did wandless magic return as a norm. Today, schools like Uagadou taught both methods.
Betty decided to look for a book focused solely on wandless, possibly even nonverbal, magic. She soon found one binding from Northern Europe, from an indigenous culture called the Sami. Translated into English, the incantations relied on visualisation and gestures rather than spoken words, which meant Betty would no longer risk mispronouncing them. Flipping through the pages, Betty felt a thrill rising in her chest. In there was a system she could understand, something that relied on her mental focus and vivid visualisation, rather than words she had to say out loud. The instructions felt natural to her, and it was something she could practice on her own. For the first time that day, Betty felt a sense of control and excitement. Here, in this hidden, mysterious room filled with books, with so much to explore.
Sitting between the high shelves, Betty didn't notice how the sunlight outside vanished and turned into darkness, and was replaced by lights floating on the ceiling; she didn't notice how much time she passed. Only when the roaring of her stomach made her pause, she looked up and turned, only to realise in shock—seeing a large, ancient looking clock hanging above the doorway she had entered the room—it was twenty minutes before curfew. Betty blinked, disoriented. She stood, put the book on a shelf so she would find it later, and quickly left the room.
Leaving the cozy warmth of the Room of Requirement, the cold hit her like a barrier, and she immediately began shivering. The corridors were nearly empty, and having lost her sense of direction, she had no idea where to go. Her steps quickened as time passed, and just as she turned a corner and nearly collided with two figures.
"Betty? Isn't it a bit late to be wandering around?"
It was Tonks, her hair back to the usual pink, observing Betty curiously. Beside her stood Frankie.
"Uh... I-I'm on my way to the Gryffindor Tower. I just got lost," Betty stammered. That wasn't even a lie; she had been wandering earlier and had completely lost orientation. "And you? The Hufflepuff common room isn't exactly high up either."
"You're too observant, kiddo," Tonks chuckled, nudging Frankie and speaking in a mocking voice. "Well, we're just coming from the Ravenclaw Tower. Let's say... I accompanied Frankie. She's fancying that one girl—"
"Tonks!" Frankie exclaimed, now blushing all over her face.
Tonks just shrugged, grinning. "Nothing wrong with that."
She turned her attention back to Betty. "I can walk you to the other side of the castle," she said, falling into step beside her. Frankie lingered for a moment, waving Betty goodbye before turning down a side corridor toward the Hufflepuff basement, her footsteps fading gradually while Betty watched her silhouette disappear. The castle was quiet around them. Only their steps and quiet breathing were to hear. Betty's mind drifted to what she had planned to ask her cousin—and to whether she really wanted to know. She was scared of what she might hear, and it took her nearly five minutes to figure out how to phrase her desperate need for answers.
"Tonks," she eventually began, fiddling with the sleeves of her robe.
"Yes?"
"I... uh... I have a question," Betty continued, unsure how to start. Her heartbeat quickened as they entered corridors she knew well, and time felt short.
"Shoot."
"It... it's about something Hagrid said a few weeks ago," she said, lowering her gaze to the stone floor. "It's... it's about my father."
Tonks slowed, turning to her with a cautious expression. Betty noticed a flicker of unease in her eyes.
"Hagrid said... he said he couldn't believe what my father had done... because they were like brothers. I don't understand. What did he mean?"
Tonks stopped walking; her expression tightened. Betty realised she had been right. Tonks knew something. The words seemed to stick in her throat, and she pressed them into a thin line, avoiding her cousin's eyes.
"You know something! Please..." Betty said firmly, searching for Tonks's gaze. "Just tell me! Otherwise... I'll just see for myself."
Tonks hesitated, running her hands through her hair. Then she spoke, voice low. "Sirius... your father... he killed twelve Muggles."
Betty's heart skipped a beat—even though she already knew. She nodded, keeping her face neutral. "I know that."
"Well," Tonks continued, now meeting Betty's eyes, "he also... killed a wizard."
Betty swallowed. That was news to her, yet she grew impatient by Tonks not getting to the point. "Okay... and?"
"Do you remember Peter Petegrew?"
Betty's stomach dropped. "The wizard, who saved mum, when she was carrying... me?"
Tonks nodded. "He was one of Sirius' friends. Best friends."
Betty's breath quickened, as well as her heartbeat. She swallowed. Her mind was racing, puzzling the pieces together in her mind. Never thought he'd do something like that. They were like brothers. No, it couldn't be true.
"He killed him—along with those twelve Muggles," Tonks ended.
For a moment, the words didn't land. Then they did. Peter Pettigrew. Her mind stumbled, trying to reconcile this new, shocking truth. Her chest felt tight, her hands balled into fists at her sides, but she forced herself to breathe. She felt like throwing up.
"You... okay?" Tonks asked carefully.
Betty nodded, unable to speak. She tried hard to keep her expressions straight, even though her hands seemed to start trembling uncontrollably. She didn't look straight to Tonks, instead to a point fixed behind her. When she eventually found her words, she quickly said.
"I know the way to the common room now. Thanks for walking me. Good night."
She forced herself to a faint smile, one that didn't reach her eyes, and walked past her cousin. Betty felt Tonks's gaze lingering on her back. Lost in thought, with her whole body trembling, and tears blurring her vision, she climbed the stairs almost running, murmured the password to the Gryffindor common room without looking at the Fat Lady—who scolded her gently for missing curfew. The common room was still buzzing from the festives of the earlier won Quidditch match; Betty, however, paid no intention. She lazily cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself—not strong, but enough to keep her from being noticed, preferring not to be perceived rather than speak to anyone. Having almost no energy to get herself undressed, except for her robe and shoes, she slipped fully clothed under her covers.
The image of her father killing his own best friend refused to fade. She felt shocked, confusion, and a strange, persistent need to understand. Why would he have done that? Why would her father kill the man who had saved her mother—and herself? She had known the truth could be hurtful, just as hurtful as learning where her father had been in the first place. But this knowledge cut even deeper than she had imagined.
Even though she was exhausted, she didn't sleep that night, listening to the wind and heavy raindrops thrashing against the windows, and to the girls' breathing sounds, and the warming fire cracking mixed with a stifled exhale. Her mind, however, refused to settle. She lay stiffly in her bed, throwing herself from one side to the other, staring at the ceiling, tears running down her cheeks, as the same questions kept circling in her head.
Why didn't mum tell me?Why do I always have to hear about what happened from someone else?
Her chest tightened again, and then her heart dropped, as a more troubling thought crept in. What else does she keep from me?