Amelia Bones did not like to remember things.

Not since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been vanquished at Godric's Hollow had she been truly forced to remember; the first and last time she couldn't help herself, she was standing on the cold, harsh stone at Platform Nine and ¾.

She had gone to pick up Susan, who was coming home from the end of fourth year. It had been a hard year for her niece, Amelia knew, with the eager excitement of the Triwizard Tournament ending with one of her very own housemates dead.

It was such a shame, too. The Diggorys were dreadfully nice people, and Cedric had been a fine boy. Polite, kind, and bearing a height unusual for a seeker that many of his friends had yet to beat and now never would. Amelia pictured a youthful face shadowed by friendly gray eyes that had led to all the girls within three years of Cedric fawning over him. From what Susan always said, however, Cedric Diggory had been perfectly chivalric and completely loyal to his girlfriend. A Ravenclaw girl, she thought the Daily Prophet had mentioned. The newspaper hadn't bothered to print the girl's name.

Amelia sighed as the cold rain rattled on the brim of her hat, and found her thoughts drifting to a different boy from a very different time, who had been just as handsome, and just as kind and loyal in his own ways. Stocky instead of tall and with brown eyes, instead of gray, surrounded by square bronze frames. Large warm hands that fit perfectly over hers.

She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and shook her head, pushing the thought away. Remembrance led only to pain. She would not allow her enemies that, and she refused to torment her loved ones with the unrest of her soul. Let her loved ones rest in peace, not in her heart.

Thunder rumbled as the smoke from the Hogwarts Express finally revealed itself as distinct from the dark clouds. Amelia wished she had thought to bring an umbrella. Susan was too near to bother conjuring one now, but the rain dripping off her hat finally started to soak into her robes. She shivered.

It might be nice to allow herself to remember, just once…

The dark crimson blot of the train reached the edge of the station, and families desperately pushed forward, pale-faced and whispering about their children after the horror Hogwarts had just seen. Echoes of a horror Amelia knew far too well. She scowled. She mustn't think about that.

Amelia didn't rush forward with the others; she reclined back against the chilled wall of the platform where she always did, knowing Susan would come and find her, just as her niece always did. The rain continued to drip off the edge of the platform's ceiling, directly onto the sopping brim of her hat.

She saw Susan now, talking quietly with her friend as they descended the steps of their carriage. Hannah Abbott looked very small and frightened next to Susan, whose red hair leached into the rain as a dull auburn.

Finally. Amelia didn't want to wait around any longer. It was too cold and wet for June, and she had to get back to work.

She let her eyes float around the platform, noting the panicked families who pushed nearly off the edge of the platform, the single parents who stayed back, the relatives guilted into picking up the children their parents were too busy for. People with gaunt faces and whispered voices darted in every direction.

Amelia recognized a few people. The Greengrasses collected their daughters and left all within a few moments. A cluster of redheads surrounded Molly Prewe—no, she was Molly Weasley now; she hadn't been Molly Prewett in a long time, not since Amelia was still a trainee Auror with hope that the world wasn't a horrible place after all and that she might one day have a red haired husband and children of her own to greet at King's Cross. Patience MacMillan waved and shouted at her son Ernest, as he dallied with his friends: a stupid decision, in this weather, and he should really—

Amelia's heart skipped a beat, and she spun back around to look at the Weasleys again.

Next to Molly Weasley stood two identical teens with freckly faces and fiery red hair. Lanky limbs attached awkwardly to stocky torsos, their proportions almost but not quite fully matured. Mischievous smiles that, although clearly more subdued than usual, made you want to check yourself for jinxes.


No. Amelia wanted to hex herself at her mental blunder. These twins still wore their school robes, which were lined with red instead of blue. Their cheekbones were sharper, and neither wore glasses. Gideon had worn glasses since his and Fabian's sixth year. Amelia had teased him about wanting to look clever, although she thought he always looked clever anyway. These boys, standing with their mother and siblings, hadn't even graduated yet.

Amelia felt a raindrop slide down her cheek.

"Auntie Amelia?" Susan's wobbly voice broke her focus. "Are you alright?"

Amelia took the trolley from her niece, and spared one more glance at the twins on the platform. Molly Weasley clutched her sons, not her brothers. Amelia had never thought to pity Molly for her children's faces before. She wondered if Molly could look at them every day without seeing echoes of Gideon and Fabian. Merlin knows it had taken a while until Amelia could look at Susan without thinking of Edgar, and Amelia considered her mind well-trained not to think back to before that Halloween.

Let the past pass by you, after all.

"I'm fine, Susan," Amelia answered. "Are you all right? I know you were fond of Mr. Diggory."

Susan's face pinched. "I don't want to talk about any of that."

Amelia understood that very, very much.

Because as much as the Weasley twins might look like their uncles, they would never be Gideon and Fabian. And Gideon didn't deserve for Amelia to dread his memory.

She thought of his warm hands.