I hate portkeys.

Seriously, apparition all the way for this girl.

Apparition is so easy; you just reappear where you want to go. The portkey requires being in a certain spot and a specific time, rememberingthose precise details, and managing to make sure you have everything in one trip.

Not to mention the landing. I've never stuck a landing on a portkey trip and at this point in my life, I'm convinced I never will.

Dad is waiting for me in the Ministry of Magic Portkey Office, to get my new residential status settled. He pulls me into a hug immediately and I drop the hairbrush I've been holding, despite the Ministry personnel person next to me, waiting with an open hand.

Dad and I have never had the most conventional relationship. Quidditch superstar and Scottish Keeper extraordinaire Oliver Wood met my mother, the stunning, American supermodel Rachel Pohl. It'd been instant attraction, two months of passionate dating leading right into marriage and quickly followed by a little bundle of joy.

They named her Carson Grace, divorced three months later, and thus, I spent my life rotating back and forth between Dad in Great Britain and wherever Mom's newest husband lived.

Until now, when it's all gone to shit.

"I know this—this isn't great," Dad brings up the topic I know he was just waiting to talk about the minute we walk out of the office of the Department of Magical Transportation. "And I'm sorry we had to move you before your Seventh Year, Carson—"

"It's fine," I tell him, because, yeah, it does suck, but there was really no way around this. "It's better than living with Mom, right?"

Dad tries, unsuccessfully, to fight back a smile. Talking about my mom is probably our least favorite thing to discuss ever, but he'll take any hint that he's the favorite parent, even though I've made it perfectly clear many times. "Leesh and I tried to get you before," He says quietly, causing my head to whip to the left to look at him. "The lawyers told us we wouldn't be able to without some kind of complaint and child services being involved and—"

Again I cut him off. "It's ok," He doesn't look any happier when I shoot him a small smile as we make our way to the Apparition point to leave the Ministry. "Besides, I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are," He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into his side tight; I'm reminded of days when I was a little kid, running to his side when he came to pick me up from Mom's. It's no secret he and Mom had their disagreements (to put it lightly), and like he said, I knew he'd been trying to convince her to hand over custody of me for years. Mom had finally agreed…not that she had much of a choice. "Let's get going, yeah? Kids are excited to see you!"

"Great," I say.

Dad grins. "We're all excited!"

I lean further into him. "No, I am too,"

Growing up, Dad and I spent most of our summers at the house near Puddlemere United's stadium. It's large and navy blue, with white trim, a huge balcony overlooking the water, with a private dock leading to the beach. The inside is spacious and open, with plenty of natural light and windows. Not exactly the ideal Quidditch star bachelor pad. He would train in the mornings, and I would tag along, either entertaining myself quietly or loudly demanding attention that usually meant he and whoever else was there would bring me up in the air with them and let me practice shooting the Quaffle.

Dad's a bit disappointed, but between that and Quodpot's basis in throwing, it was no wonder I'd be a Quidditch Chaser.

Afternoons would be spent on the beach, where his private entrance and secluded location made it so even our afternoons were filled with Quidditch: Quaffle catches, toy broom flights over the edge of the tide, and throwing an old Snitch up in the air for me to catch.

Now that Dad's only the General Manager for Puddlemere, they don't spend much time at the beach house. He'd married Alicia when I was 7, who was perfect for him, and everything my mom was not.

Alicia had been one of Dad's Chasers when he was Captain at Hogwarts. She loved Quidditch; her background playing gave her the knowledge to follow Dad's career and the fact that Dad had been her Captain erased any possibility of her being starstruck by him. She had no desire to pursue a professional Quidditch career of her own, opting instead to work for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. She was beautiful, smart, and funny. She kept Dad on his toes constantly.

I just loved that she didn't try to take him away from me.

In the years since, we've grown closer. She's like a combo mother-older sister figure. I'm only slight resentful of the younger siblings they've given me.

Just kidding. Those brats are adorable.

Dad and Alicia have three other kids in addition to me, their part-time-turned-full-time child.

Parker is the oldest. At age 10, he's already exactly like Dad. He's very competitive, very determined, and relatively unreasonable when you tell him he's wrong. Pretty fun to wind up, though.

Erin is second. She's 8, and queen of the house, you'd think, from the way she acts. Cute as a button, but my God does she know how to push buttons.

Colton is the baby, but now that he's 5, he'll tell anyone who listens otherwise. He's "this many," he'll say, holding up a whole hand, and proceed to explain that that's practically six so he deserves an extra cookie or to stay up late or to watch that show that Dad and Alicia won't let him watch.

I'm usually ready to wring all of their necks within about a day, but I'm also the first to sneak them extra candy when Dad and Alicia aren't looking. True siblingship.

They spend their most of their summers now at the country estate in Scotland, rather than our beach house. The large estate is on a lake, still giving us access to water and swimming, and offers plenty of space to play Quidditch in the yard if we want. Alicia has a home office to work from and Dad pops down to the stadium when he needs to, but their summer schedule is much lighter until they get rid of me and move back to the main house in eastern England.

The main house is nice and I love the new summer home, but the beach house is still my favorite. Once Dad and Alicia moved, I used to always make sure he took me down there every summer, just for old time's sake.

Alicia and the kids are waiting in the living room when we arrive. "Hi!" I beam excitedly, throwing my backpack. It hits dad in the stomach behind me.

Alicia pushes through all three of her kids to get to me. "Hi!" She cries.

"Mom!" Parker's voice cracks with his exclamation and I can't help but laugh, even as Alicia throws her arms around me.

She continues to age wonderfully, her dark hair flowing gracefully down her back. She has a little bit of Spanish in her, from her mother's side, and it shows in both her temper and her skin tone, which has taken on its summer glow beautifully. Her eyes sparkle as she pulls back from me, still grasping my shoulders, and looking me up and down, tsking as she does. "Still too thin, what are you eating?"

"You sound like your mother now,"

She flicks my nose. "Don't you ever say that again," Her arm wraps around my shoulder as she turns to face her other children and I lean into her touch. We're the same height, not short, but not tall, much to my mother's disappointment—because of this, even despite all her efforts, my modeling career had never taken off like she wanted it to.

My half-siblings are a perfect mix of Dad and Alicia. Parker's got Dad's light brown hair and Alicia's dark eyes while Erin and Colton got Alicia's dark hair and Dad's hazel eyes. They're growing up so fast, but even Parker runs for me the second Alicia releases me.

"We missed you," Parker says, stepping back from the hug. Colton's still hanging on my legs and I reach one hand out to each of their heads to ruffle their hair as I respond.

"I missed you guys too," They all beam back at me.

"Can we go play now?" Colton asks, looking up at me.

"Let's let her get settled in," Alicia says, pulling him off my leg. "And you, sir, need a nap,"

"I don't wanna,"

I yawn. "I could use a nap,"

Colton looks at me skeptically. "Really?"

Dad nods. "I'm going to take her upstairs and she'll probably sleep right then," I nod my agreement before he agrees to follow Alicia upstairs. The "thank you" she mouths has me grinning. "You ready to go up, kiddo?"

"Lead the way, daddo,"

He rolls his eyes, but levitates my things, allowing me to follow him up to my usual room. They've re-decorated a bit. The walls are now a dusty gray, the furniture a dark mahogony, with a new blush pink duvet and plenty of pillows. I'm speechless as I walk inside. "We figured you'd like to decorate it yourself," Dad says, sounding a little nervous. "But we thought it was time the ballerina wall paper came down."

"It's perfect," I throw my arms around him.

"Well, I can't take much of the credit," He laughs. "Alicia did most of it. I was only good for manual labor,"

"Per usual," I tease.

"Hush, you." He pauses. "You need anything?"

I shake my head. "I think I will take that nap,"

He smiles softly at me. "We'll come wake you for dinner,"

The bed is soft and comfortable when I flop down on it, practically engulfing me into it. I arrange myself comfortably, slip under the covers, and roll onto my side.

It's been less than an hour at this house and I feel more at home than I have anywhere in years.

"You look bored out of your mind," Dad sits down on the patio sofa next to me, pulling my feet onto his lap to make more room for himself. We're on the screened-in porch, which offers a great view of the lake, and has become my favorite place to drink my morning coffee, before finally going up to my room to get dressed for the day.

"I'm not bored," I reply, automatically. It's not exactly a lie, but it's not really the truth either. I'd entirely decorated my room already, and I spent my days with the siblings playing all sorts of games, both indoors and out. We watched movies; No-Maj and magical; and television, the Quidditch Network a popular choice amongst all of us except Erin, but other channels as well.

All of that being said, I did miss my friends. People my own age. I love Alicia, but shopping with your stepmom is just not the same as shopping with your friends, no matter how cool she may be.

Dad gives me a look. "Carson," He says warningly.

I sigh, pulling my knees into my chest. "I don't want to sound ungrateful. I'm happy to be here, Dad, really,"

He nods, thoughtfully. "Well, that settles it. Go get dressed," It's my turn to give him a look. "We called the new Keeper up from the Reserve team for this year and I said I'd work with him today when I was down there. Get dressed; you can come down with me,"

My face brightens and I jump up. "Give me 15 minutes!"

"Ten!" Dad calls back.

It's probably closer to 12 when I come back downstairs, dressed in black capri leggings, a royal blue sports bra, and a flowy turquoise tank. My blue eyes are sparkling extra bright, not only from the blue sports bra shirt combo, but from my excitement, and I'm still pulling my light brown hair (his hair color is the only physical trait I'd inherited from Dad, much to Mom's chagrin, who'd prayed I'd be born a blonde like her) into a high ponytail as I bounce down the stairs to meet Dad. "Ready!" I chirp, summoning my broom.

"About time," He grumbles.

"Rude,"

He rolls his eyes, but he's laughing as he holds his arm out for me to take. "Oh, whatever, you," Then, we're moving, swirling into nothingness and reappearing into the depths of Puddlemere's stadium.

They've made some upgrades, but the familiarity is still there, even though it's been years since I've been to the stadium. The facility looks nicer, cleaner, but everything I love about it is in place. Pictures and memorabilia line the walls, from the old, old greats, to the relatively new ones, like my Dad and Justin Thomas. The men's locker room still smells like sweat and boy when we walk past. The strategy room, where they hold all their team meetings is as pristine as ever, chairs looking only more comfortable. I remember when I used to sit in them and spin around and around until I got dizzy.

Even Dad's office, with its dark tinted windows overlooking the pitch, is familiar from his playing days when it belonged to Conrad Buckmanshire. He's made some design changes (the couch along the wall is more comforting and less intimidating), added some personal photos of our family (spotted: my favorite of the two of us when I'm four and we're at the beach playing Quidditch), and made it a generally more inviting place than Conrad's office ever was, but the boss sentiment is definitely still there.

I wait impatiently as he answers a few emails, returns a phone call, and responds to an owl. It's too early in America to text my own friends and expect a response, so I tap my foot and ignore the looks he sends me, until he finally stands. "Merlin, you are annoying,"

"One of my best qualities," I beam, following him down to the training rooms. He stores a broom here in the facility, just in case he wants to jump in training with the team. He'd come casual today, dressed ready to train in gym shorts and a t-shirt, so when he grabs his broom, he leads me right to the pitch.

If the beach house is my favorite place on Earth, Puddlemere's pitch is a close second. This is where I'd learned to play Quidditch, how to throw a Quaffle. It's where we celebrated Dad's Quidditch Cup wins. It was my escape from mom and her craziness, from all my different step-fathers, and the chaos.

Now, it just seems peaceful. I take a deep breath the second my sneakers step onto the grass and release it slowly. Just being here is like catharsis—out with the toxicity, in with the new life.

Dad is halfway across the pitch when I open my eyes and I jog to catch up. His new Keeper is already doing his dynamic warm-up, but stops when Dad and I get close to shake Dad's hand. "My daughter," He stresses the word, introducing us. "Carson,"

"Hi," I smile, holding my own hand out.

"Hi," Keeper returns both sentiments. "Brett Keller,"

Very good looking. Blond hair, neatly kept, with blue eyes. He's tall and well built, definitely kept up with his training. Unlike Dad and I, he's fully geared and ready to practice.

"Anybody else joining today?" Dad asks, looking around, like maybe he missed somebody on the completely empty pitch.

Brett shrugs. "Rino's coming down once his girl leaves for work and Blooms mentioned he might stop by. Maybe Lauren,"

Dad nods. "Well no use waiting. They can jump in when they're ready. Kells, up in the air. Carson, grab a Quaffle,"

"You any good?" Brett mutters, as we kick off.

"I'm alright,"

He's grinning at me an hour later, when Dad's on the ground talking with Zach Bloomberg and Anthony Rinelli, the two beaters. "You are alright,"

I toss my ponytail over my shoulder. "Did you expect anything less?"

He laughs. "I shouldn't have," His eyes follow the Quaffle I'm tossing between hands. "You've got an interesting technique,"

"Quick release," I say. Dad's told me before. It's not necessarily the best technique for Quidditch but it gets the job done. "The Quodpot style,"

"The Carson System," He grins.

"Nobody's going to be naming anything after me except maybe a drink,"

Brett barks out a laugh as Dad returns to the air, looking satisfied. "Rino and Blooms are letting out a bludger. Carson and I are going two-on-one against you," We both nod in response. The last hour's been spent him critiquing Brett's technique and giving pointers as I fired shot after shot. It'll be nice to get some simulated game play in.

I'd met Zach Bloomberg before; he's been on the team for a few years now. I'd hesitate, really, on calling anyone on this team old (they'd brought Dad in for a rebuild after things had steadily declined after his retirement), but if I suppose if I had to name someone, he'd be one of them. He waves at me from across the pitch with his bat and then takes off for a warm-up lap.

Anthony Rinelli flies immediately over to me and introduces himself, his position, and his team-preferred nickname. He's a relatively recent addition to the team; I know he spent his first couple years in the League in Ballycastle, but I remember how excited Dad was to get him, saying how his and Zach's playing styles were perfect fits.

"Go take a lap, Rino," Dad glares, as Rino and I are discussing preferred broom polishes. Rino grins and takes off immediately and Dad shifts his gaze to me.

"What a nice, polite group of young men you have here,"

"Don't even think about it,"

"Who me?" I smile innocently. "I would never,"

Alicia is in the kitchen when we return, stirring slowing and peering into a large pot. "Oh good," She beams and Dad and I exchange a look. "I was just about to call for you," Another look between us. "I was talking with Angelina today—"

"Oh Merlin!" Dad groans.

"You love Ang!"

"It's more how the two of you are when you're together," Dad explains.

Alicia grins. "Well I invited them for dinner tonight so you'll get to see us soon! Fred is Carson's age; it'll be good for her to have a friend!"

Dad frowns. "Carson can make her own friends."

"Just this morning you told me I was a friendless loser!"

"Shut up and go take a shower!" He waves me off.

"Oliver!" Alicia cries and turns her gaze to me. "But yes, Carson, you may want to shower,"

"Are you guys telling me I smell or something?" I grumble at them. They ignore me, continuing their discussion about the menu for tonight, so I take my leave. A shower does sound nice, actually, but not because they told me to, because I want one.

Great, now I'm a two year old.

Alicia shoos me out of the kitchen to "help dad with the grilling" after I try to add baking powder instead of baking soda into the dessert she's making. It's probably for the best; I'd already spilled flour all over the kitchen and myself, so after heading back to my room to change into a pair of white jeans, a light chambray button down, and tan sandals, I make my way to Dad on the deck.

"Kicked out?" I nod, settling into the Adirondack chair that's nearest the cooler and helping myself to a beer. Dad snickers, holding his hand out for another drink, and I oblige, before settling into my chair, crossing my legs. "Not surprised. We should just ban you from the kitchen permanently,"

I frown. "Then how would I make myself coffee?"

"Good point, I don't want anything to do with that. Alright, you get full access to the coffee maker, that's it,"

"Deal," I grin. "This is my dream! Everyone makes me food forever, all I have to do is make coffee when I want it!"

"Wait a minute," Dad says slowly, as the door opens, and I hasten to hide the beer behind my chair. Alicia pops out, two tall men behind her. One is about Dad's age, still very ginger, but definitely fading, with clear blue eyes, a bright smile, and noticeably, only one ear. The other is my age, with darker skin, dark brown eyes, and a more hesitant look on his face. "Did you just—"

"Dad, really, we have company, now's not the time," I smile sweetly.

"Thank you, Carson," Alicia smiles; Dad grumbles. "It's been a while, but you've met George before," I bite the inside of my lip, not really remembering this at all, but nodding in agreement anyway; Alicia would probably know better than I do and despite not remembering this, I've always referred to them as Aunt Angelina and Uncle George. "And this, is Freddy; he'll be in your year in Hogwarts this year,"

"Hello," I wave awkwardly, dragging the word into two uncomfortable syllables.

"Smooth," Dad mutters.

"Shut up," I mutter back.

Alicia beams at us. "I'll leave you four out here; Carson, no touching dinner." I salute her with my free hand and she turns to leave the deck. Uncle George immediately makes his way to one of the other Adirondack chairs on the deck in this corner and Freddy hesitantly sits in the one next to me.

Dad cracks up as soon as the door shuts and I pull my beer out. "Phew!" I say, examining the bottle, and Uncle George joins him in laughter. "We're safe,"

"She would have yelled at me for this, not you," Dad says.

"No, I meant my beer!"

Uncle George and Freddy laugh while Dad just rolls his eyes. It's becoming his standard move for anything I say. "Be a good host and offer them one too,"

"Yes, father," Another eye roll, but I exchange a grin with Uncle George and Freddy as I pass them both beers.

"Is there a bottle opener?" Freddy asks, looking around, fancy German beer of choice hanging still unopen in his fingers.

"Oh yeah, here," I reach over for it, place my right palm over the cap, and in one quick, smooth move, use the edge of the deck to open the bottle. "Here you go,"

Uncle George cracks up, Freddy looks impressed. Dad has this look on his face, as if everything I do physically pains him. "Please, for the sake of my old man heart, could you just pretend this is your first beer?"

I take a sip of my beer. "Ew, hops,"

"Oh for Merlin's sake," He turns back to the grill as Freddy and Uncle George both burst into laughter with me.

I beam. "Aren't you so glad you brought me here?"

Dad flips his middle finger up at me as he opens the grill.

"Such love," Uncle George says. "Nice to know you treat your children the same way you treated your Quidditch team,"

The finger moves over in his direction as Freddy and I laugh. "Just this child," Dad closes the grill and joins our circle, sitting down in the only green chair.

"The special one," I flip my hair over my shoulder.

"The diva one," Dad argues.

"Hey!" I protest. "Erin is, for sure, the diva one!"

"Alright, fair point," Dad agrees.

"You know, I actually think I'm one of your lower maintenance children. Like no offense, because he's just like you, but Parker's a little high strung, and Erin's Erin, so I'm at least bottom 50%,"

"Drink your damn beer and stop talking,"

"Yes, daddy," I hide a smile into my beer, rolling my eyes as Dad and Uncle George begin arguing over the right way to cook the burgers for dinner tonight. When I look over at Freddy, he's got the same amused expression on his face as he meets my eyes and we both look away for fear of bursting into laughter.

Suck it, Dad and Alicia, I'm not a friendless loser anymore; I have one friend.

A/N: Hi! Thanks for coming to read this! I'm excited to share this with you and hope you all love it. I'd love to hear what you think so if you would drop a review, that would be lovely!