The Quidditch pitch was abandoned. The snow had stopped falling, but the clouds hung low and heavy, like a ceiling about to collapse.

  Jaqui stood under the bleachers, the old wooden beams creaking overhead. Her breath misted in the cold air. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, but it didn’t stop the restless heat bubbling just under her skin.

  She wasn't alone.

  Harry was there too, pacing in tight, angry circles. His wand was tucked into his belt — he wasn't here to duel. But that didn't mean he wasn't ready for a fight.

  "You have to stop seeing him," Harry said, voice low and fierce. "Before it's too late."

  Jaqui crossed her arms. "Too late for what? For you to still pretend you know me?"

  "He's dangerous, Jaqui! He's Voldemort's son!"

  "And I'm my own person, Harry!" she snapped, louder than she meant to. "Not yours to protect, not yours to control!"

  The air around them shivered, like a ripple across water. Harry took a half-step back instinctively.

  "He's feeding you lies," Harry said, quieter now. "Mattheo and Tom — they want you for something. You're not safe with them."

  Jaqui laughed bitterly. "Safe? When have I ever been safe, Harry? Growing up under the Dursleys’ roof? Living in your shadow at school?" Her voice cracked. "You don't see me. You never have."

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  "That's not true," Harry said, but the words sounded thin even to him.

  Jaqui clenched her fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Her heart was hammering so loud it was all she could hear. The anger was building inside her like a wildfire, desperate for air.

  "You want me to choose, don't you?" she said, voice shaking. "Between you and Mattheo. Between your perfect little idea of good and evil."

  Harry nodded stiffly. "I want you to choose the right side."

  "And what if I don't?" Jaqui whispered.

  The ground beneath them cracked.

  Harry stumbled as a sudden shockwave blasted out from Jaqui, the snow exploding outward in a perfect circle around her. The bleachers groaned dangerously overhead. Icicles shattered from the beams with sharp, ringing cracks.

  Jaqui stared at her hands, horrified. She hadn’t cast a spell. She hadn’t even thought about casting one.

  Harry’s eyes were wide — with fear.

  "You…" he breathed. "What was that?"

  "I don't know," Jaqui whispered, shaking.

  The magic was still burning inside her, wild and hungry. Her skin glowed faintly, like there was a storm trapped inside her ribcage.

  "Come with me," Harry said urgently, reaching out. "We’ll tell Dumbledore — he can help you—"

  Jaqui flinched away from his hand. "Dumbledore knew," she said hoarsely. "Theo told me. Dumbledore knew what I was… and he kept it from me."

  "You can’t trust them!" Harry shouted, desperation bleeding into his voice. "They’re Riddles, Jaqui! They’re darkness!"

  Jaqui straightened, her breath steadying even though her heart was screaming.

  "Maybe I’m darkness too," she said.

  Harry looked at her like he didn't recognize her anymore. And for the first time, Jaqui wasn’t sure she cared.

  Without another word, she turned and walked away, the snow melting in steaming patches where her boots touched.

  Harry didn’t follow.

  He just stood there, watching his sister disappear into the mist — the sister he thought he knew, the sister he might already have lost.

  Jaqui’s steps felt lighter, but the weight inside her chest only grew heavier. The truth that had been gnawing at the edges of her mind for months was no longer just a shadow. It was a storm, and it was finally breaking.

  Theo had said it. The Riddle brothers were the ones who had uncovered the truth — the one thing Dumbledore had been hiding from her all along.

  She wasn’t a Potter.

  She was a Longbottom.

  And as Jaqui sat alone in the dark corners of the library, pouring over ancient records of the Longbottom family, everything began to shift.The pieces of her life that had never quite fit were snapping together, and with each new discovery, a truth far darker than she ever imagined emerged.

  But there was someone else who knew — someone who had always known.

  Neville.

  Her real brother.

  And soon, she’d have to confront him. The truth was coming, and neither of them could outrun it.