"That was so cute," Hestia Jones gushed, "and Lydia looked so beautiful. I can't believe she married Benjy."
"I can't believe we didn't notice her feelings," Kingsley added, "it seems so obvious in hindsight."
"Most things tend to be," Valentino Fawley, Pandora's second cousin, pointed out.
"Fair enough," Kingsley agreed, "fair enough."
"Iola!" Olivia Tare burst into the Thunderbird dorm, "want to come to Hogsmeade with me? I'm taking a bunch of friends."
"No thank you," a bleary eyed Iola whispered, "I have a different plan."
"Oh," Olivia said, leaving, "I guess I'll have to treat you another time."
"Bring me back some candy please," Iola asked, "I'd appreciate it."
"Of course," Olivia responded, "I'll get your favorite."
"Thank you," Iola smiled slightly, before the previous frown returned.
"What's wrong with her?" Benjy's heart burst for his daughter. A daughter who was not much younger than he. In fact, his on screen daughter was precisely the same age as her current mother.
"I don't know," Sirius's face darkened, "but if anyone harmed her, they'll never see the light of day again."
Iola, once she was sure the coast was clear, pulled a tote bag out of her suitcase. Grasping the mysterious bag in her hands, she ran out of her dorm that was located on the whimsical Illvermorny airplane. She reached into her bag, and Death's Cloak of Invisibility surrounded her. Hidden from view, she made her way past Hogsmeade's gates. She walked further and further from the city, until she reached a frozen over lake. Iola lifts the cloak off, and pulls a pair of ice skates out of her bag.
"Ice skates!" Dorcas squeals, "I love ice skating!"
Slipping the skates on, a miserable Iola Potter skates onto the ice. She starts slowly, doing laps around the lake quickly. Far quicker than an average person should be able to. As she skates, her spirit lifts, frown leaving her face. She relishes in the activity, her smile beaming. It was certainly a sight. The heiress to the Potter fortune swirled, twisted, and leaped on the ice, seeming as if she'd grown up on it. The girl was clearly in her element.
"That's incredible!" Dorcas was amazed, "I've seen grown skaters with less skill. She's a natural born skater."
"I wonder if she had lessons," Lydia mumbled to herself, "she wouldn't be that good otherwise."
"I knew I'd find you here," a voice rang out from the bushes.
"Show yourself!" Iola flung into action, whipping her wand out, and twirling in the direction of the voice.
"It's just me," Neville Longbottom walked out with his hands up, "I didn't mean to scare you."
"Nev," Iola breathed in relief, "how'd you know I'd be here?"
"I was in Hogsmeade," Neville explained, twisting his wand, transfiguring his shoes into skates, "and bumped into your friends. I asked where you were, and they said you didn't want to go with them."
"So?" Iola asked.
"I know you better than anyone," Neville elaborated, stepping onto the ice, "we were born 1 day apart, and raised by the same people. You're the closest thing I have to a sister. So when my very charming and loving sister misses out on a day out with friends, I grow concerned. So I borrowed Callie's map, and saw you were out here."
"He's so sweet," Alice gripped Frank's hands, "and he cares for her. Our boy is just the sweetest."
"I agree," Frank smiled at his wife adoringly, "he gets it from you sweetness."
"Of course he does," his mother cuts in, "you're nowhere near that kindhearted."
"Mum," Frank whined, "let me and Alice have a moment, won't you?"
"Oh," Iola blushed, "I hadn't thought of that. Why are you here Nev?"
"I don't want you to be alone," Neville offered his hands, "you seemed down lately. So why don't we skate, just the two of us? Brother and sister."
Tears began forming in Iola's eyes, yet she accepted his hands. Together, the pair skated across the lake, a pleasant silence forming. Iola's inner Thunderbird shone, her sense of adventure activating.
"I don't like it when you're sad," Neville broke the silence, "what's going on? I won't laugh."
"You're too good to me," Iola choked out, "a failure of a champion."
"Oh my sweet niece," Amelia whispers to the screen, "you're no failure."
"A failure?" Neville asked shocked, "but Iola, you're doing great! You're three years younger than the other champions, yet you're doing just as well. How can that be considered failure?"
"Tell her that," Lydia mumbles, "comfort her for me. Make her feel good."
"It's not good enough!" Iola shouted, tears running down her cheeks as she skates quickly, "my mother would have been in first place, beating the older kids. My mother would have figured the stupid egg out right away, and would probably have 6 different plans all figured out. I'll never be able to do this."
"I hate this," Lydia's face turns angry, "I hate that my own daughter feels inadequate to me. Why? Why does Iola feel that way?"
"Every child always wishes to live up to their parents," Benjy opens up to his future lover, "and everyone sets expectations upon themselves. I, for quite some time, felt that I, just like Iola, failed my parents. They don't like that I'm a wizard. They detest magic, and hate every ounce of my being. But being in Hogwarts, making friends, showed me that they're wrong. There is nothing wrong with me or magic. I may not have done what my parents had desired for me and I may have failed them, but I didn't fail myself. And our Iola has a loving family around her. With their help, she'll realize this too. She'll learn to live with your legacy. She'll learn that you are proud of her regardless."
"Thank you," Lydia smiled at Benjy, "but I can't help but feel it's my fault. That I set an impossible standard."
"You did," Benjy agrees, "having a famous, intelligent, and powerful war hero for a mother can't be easy for anyone. But that's not your fault in the slightest. Iola will grow, everyone does."
"You would have been a great father," Lydia remarks quietly, not intending for anyone to hear but herself, yet Benjy heard anyways. It made his heart ache. He would never be able to parent his child. His little girl. His Iolanthe. He had always wanted to be a better parent than his own, but it would seem fate never gave him that chance.
"You are good enough," Neville insisted firmly, "you are Iolanthe Potter. You'll figure everything out, and you'll make a name for yourself. One day, the world will know your name for you."
"You really think so?" Lydia asks as she performs a complicated twirl.
"Of course I do," Neville stated, "in fact, in the muggle world, you're already a figure skating prodigy. You're well on your way to becoming an olympic level skater. Why should I not believe you're great? You don't need to be great at everything? In fact, I know for a fact your mother couldn't skate. Aunty Dorcas always told us we couldn't mess up more than Auntie Lydia would. Your mother was banned from multiple rinks because of her colossal failures."
"Ouch," Lydia laughed, "that hit me straight in the heart Dorcas."
"He's not wrong," Dorcas defended, "you have two left feet. I wouldn't be surprised if grace wasn't your strong suit."
The scene shifts to an older Peter Pettigrew knocking on Sirius Black's door. "Come in," Sirius called out.
"Looking good Pete," Sirius nudged his friend, "can't believe you survived until adulthood."
"Rude," Peter huffed, "but so true. With my disease, I would have thought myself doomed."
"Disease?" ever kind Lily asked worriedly, "are you alright Peter?"
"He has Cystic Fibrosis," Sirius explained calmly, "he got diagnosed last year. He's had a rough year."
"Oh Peter," Lily gasped, "why didn't you tell us?"
"I was scared," Peter confessed, "I thought you'd think I was contagious and stop being friends with me."
"Never," Marlene reassures him, "but what is cystic fibrosis?"
"It's a genetic disease," Peter explains, "that makes things like digestive fluids and mucus sticky and thick instead of thin fluids. It then clogs the organs up."
"You should have told me," Madam Pomphrey clucked her tongue, "I would have tried to help you."
"Thank you," Peter was overwhelmed by the love and care of other people.
"I've come with information," Peter says, seating himself casually on the couch, "I know what the second task is."
"I wonder how," Remus wondered aloud, "what do you think Pete?"
"I'm as curious as you," Peter shrugs his shoulders, "I hope it's something cool though."
"What?!" Sirius jumped up from the kitchen, "Amelia! Pete knows the second task!"
"How?" Amelia rushed into the sitting room still in her nightgown, "also, shouldn't you be at the Acromantula Resettling Plant?"
"As you know," Peter began, "Barty Crouch has been ill lately. Hasn't been coming into the office, assigning work from home, etcetera."
"Of course," Amelia says, "shocked everyone in the ministry. Years of no breaks, and now he's suddenly ill. Gave everyone a fright."
"Is my father finally dying?" Barty grinned sadistically, look being out of place on first year.
"Anyways," Peter continued, "because of that, Diggory reassigned me from the Acromantula mission to a new one."
"Which is?" Amelia rushed, worried for Iola.
"The Triwizard tournament comitee," Peter explained, "they needed an intermediary between the humans and the merfolk."
"Why would they need that?" Sirius asked, dread filling his bones.
"Because the champions are going to have to rescue the person they treasure most from the bottom of the Great Lake," Peter explained quickly, "Diggory only told me this afternoon."
"What is running through the administrators heads?" Euphemia sighed, "they're picking rather dangerous tasks for what's supposed to be a moderated, safer tournament."
"Which means his boy likely already knows," Sirius pulls at his hair nervously, "and we have to let Iola know."
"Why do you think I'm here?" Peter questions sarcastically, "I wouldn't let Lydia's daughter go into such a situation with good conscience."
"Thank you Peter," Amelia hugged the other man, "you're a good man."
"I am, aren't I?" Peter says smirking.
The scene shifts to Iola sitting in her bed, Peverell ring on her finger.
"Now take deep breaths," a silvery blue spirit Benjy coaches, "and pull with your powers. Summon a spirit."
"She's summoning her first spirit," Lydia giggled, "look Siri!"
"I see," Sirius looked with awe, "she looks as excited as you were."
"Okay," Iola said, power pulsating through the room as she squeezed her eyes shut, "I summon!"
Suddenly, bright white light fills the room, and the spirit of Lydia Potter appears.
"Hello my daughter," Lydia greets, face soft for her daughter.
"Hi Monty's grandbaby!" a high pitched female voice cooed, "oh you're such a pretty one too."
"Morgana," Lydia sighed audibly, "how did you get here? I'm pretty sure my daughter only summoned one spirit."
"That's Morgana Le Fay?!" voices in the hall shouted, and people were astonished. They'd expected someone more serious and elderly, not a cheery, seemingly young lady."
"Centuries of being dead change you," Fleamont dismissed their astonishment, "she's been an excellent guide to me."
"Just as Arianna has been for me," Lydia smirks at her father, "but Morgana has an unhealthy obsession with you."
"She never had children," Fleamont ignores his daughter, "so she sees me as her beloved son.
"You lot are really crazy," Regulus voices his opinion, "and it must be contagious. No wonder future me is berserk."
"I grabbed onto you as you left," Morgana cheerily pinches Lydia's cheeks, "I couldn't miss the reunion between mother and daughter."
"Mum?" Iola's voice quivers as she approaches Lydia's spirit self.
"My little star," Lydia closes the gap between the two, and hugs her beloved child, "my lovely flower."
"I can't," Hestia Jones sobs into her handkerchief, "this is heart melting!"
"Mum!" Iola sobs, leaning into the hug as if her life depended on it.
"You've done well," Lydia coos, "you couldn't have made this mother any prouder."
"I miss you," Iola continues to cry, "why did you have to die?"
"Oh," Lydia sits up straight, "that little thing. Well deary, I couldn't let you grow up in a war torn land could I? What kind of mother lets her child live in an active war when she has the power to stop it?"
"Lydia certainly hasn't changed," Euphemia sighs, "I had hoped death would mature her a little."
"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO BLOW YOURSELF UP WITH FIENDFYRE!" Iola screams at her mother, "YOU COULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING ELSE!"
"I'm sorry my star," Lydia's eyes take on a stoney look, one that looks foreign on her face, "there was no other way. Voldemort had made contingencies for death, for his soul. They were only able to be destroyed by fiendfyre. There was no one else powerful enough and in the know to cast it. I didn't tell Sirius I would do it."
"What?" Iola stopped in her tracks, "Daddy never told me this."
"He didn't want to ruin your perception of me," Lydia sighed, "but I lied to him. I said we'd find another way. But then one night, I came home drenched in the blood of my enemies, and went to go feed you. Most children would cry at the sight of their mother full of blood, but you were unflinching, so used to blood and violence. At that moment, I knew what had to be done. I used Peter to leak my location to Voldemort, and confronted him. I sent Doxxy the house elf to bring you to my Melia, and once his attention was on me, I blew the place up. I burnt his soul containers, and mortal body. I, as I burnt, ensured he'd cross over to the Land of the Dead. My last command to Mortem was to make Sirius a regent, and not to trouble you."
"Oh Lyddie," Euphemia bawled, "you're too pure for this world."
Many people in the room payed their quiet respect to the fourth year student amongst them. They respected her determination and sacrifice for her daughter. For the next generation.
"Your mother loves you more than anything," Morgana flew to sit beside the mother-daughter pair, "she watches upon you from the other realm constantly. She cried for days when you were put in the goblet. She was unconsolable."
"I'm sorry for yelling," Iola apologized softly, "I didn't mean it."
"I know," Lydia strokes the remains of her daughter's hair, "we were robbed. Both of us. But one day, we will all be together. You, your father, and I."
"Hopefully not for another while," Benjy adds sternly, "Ly, you essentially just told our kid to die."
"I said one day!"
"It implies!"
"No it doesn't!"
"What a pair," Dumbledore laughs from the teacher's table, "who could have expected this outcome?"
"I certainly didn't," Flitwick answered, "I certainly didn't believe she was dating Sirius, but I never would have guessed the two of them."
"I can't believe I missed that Potter was in the boy's dorms," McGonagall adds, "I feel like I should have known."
"Probably," Professor Diona Ferrquets says, "but I can't exactly blame you. I'm a defense professor and former auror, yet I could not discern the reality behind Black and Potter's relationship. My observatory skills have been lacking."
"Don't worry about them fighting," Morgana slithers behind a confused Iola, "they'll stop in a minute or two. You should probably close your eyes though."
"Why?" Iola asks, but it's too late. Her dead parents' spirits began an intense make-out session in front of her poor eyes.
"I tried to warn you," Morgana cackles gleefully, taking in Iola's horrified expression.
"You're traumatizing your daughter," Newt lectured his niece, "you're supposed to wait until the children are gone before beginning."
"We did not need to hear that," the twins shuddered, "tmi Dad."
The hall enjoys a refreshing scene for once. Too bad it's soon going to turn worse.