The day was July 18th. I remember it so clearly. Things started out normally, with Mum whistling as she arranged placemats in the kitchen or petting our cat, Misty, while reading the newspaper. I was between summer camps, which my nearly-eleven-year-old-self adored. However, I found ways to amuse myself. I’d get a ball of string and play with Misty, or watch Mum go about her daily business. I loved that, just watching her. She’d sit by the window and let beams of sunlight pour through the panes and onto her lap. She’d smile, happy to exist peacefully. Or, almost peacefully.

Unfortunately, there was one thing that nagged at our perfect life together: my father. I hate to say this, but he and Mum didn’t always get along. I like to think back to when I was really little, before the fights began. Things were always soft and kind, never harsh and cold the way things got on some days. I blamed it all on the fights. They had begun one night when I was eight, after something strange happened and Misty rose up off the ground a few inches. I had told myself it was a dream, a hallucination. I had looked up that word in the Thesaurus. I liked words, and I liked school. My teachers always loved me because I did so well.

But nothing could change the fact that Mum and Dad had gone into the den to chat that same night when I thought I saw Misty hovering above the ground. I sat in the living room, looking at Misty, who seemed completely unaware that anything was wrong. She rubbed her tail against my legs and looked up at me with almost human eyes. That’s when I first heard the shouting. First, it was a dull murmur. It was so quiet that I thought maybe it was my stomach. Then, the sound grew louder, and I realized what it really was: Dad yelling at Mum.

I was scared. Misty sensed it, I think, because she jumped into my lap and tried to calm me with a gentle purr. I clutched her gray fur fearfully. Mum and Dad had never shouted before, yet there it was, yelling. It echoed through the house and my heart shook inside me. After about ten minutes, I became so distressed that I ran upstairs to my room. I think Mum and Dan heard footsteps on the stairs because the yelling stopped. I sat on my bed, leaning against the wall behind it and whimpered. Moments later, my dad slowly turned the door handle and walked in. He looked concerned.

“Susan,” he muttered, saying my name carefully like he was afraid I might collapse and begin to sob right then and there. Maybe he had a good reason to be that way. I certainly felt like collapsing wouldn’t be so difficult.

“Dad,” I said meekly. I could hear a tremor in my tone. He sighed and approached my bed. He looked worn out. I felt sorry for him, even though he had been yelling at Mum. I wondered then why Mum hadn’t yelled back.

We looked at each other in silence, unsure of what to say.

“You’re… fighting,” I mumbled. He could tell I was distressed.

“I know,” he agreed, looking ashamed. “But you must remember this: just because Mum and Dad fight doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. Sometimes people get mad and have to let it out.” I nodded and feigned understanding, even though I wasn’t completely consoled. I could tell Dad couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was forcing himself to accept that I understood, even though he probably wasn’t sure about it. He left me, with one last apologetic glance. The sound of him shutting my door sent a wave of quiet through the house. Nothing moved, only Misty’s tail swinging back and forth on the couch downstairs and my stomach, rising and falling, rising and falling.

That was two years ago. I had been… eight, going on nine, I think. After a week, I was over the shock of hearing my Dad violently yelling at Mum. Of course, I couldn’t forget it, but my mind stopped turning my thoughts to it all the time. That only lasted about three weeks. Then the yelling started again. Mum rarely yelled back. I never really figured out why she just took what Dad threw at her. I wanted her to be strong. I wanted to be on her side. She was smart, pretty, and knew how to make somebody feel loved. I wanted to be just like her, and praise from my grandmother that I looked “just like Mary did when she was young” made me swell with pride. I looked like Mum. I was pretty.

I never could fully get past the yelling, because just when my wounds had healed, Dad would open up the floor for another bad night and I’d shake in my shoes. On those nights, I’d toss and turn. It was not a happy time.

School started again. My grades kept up, though my teachers noted on my evaluation cards that I seemed quieter and less enthusiastic. Mum assured them that nothing was wrong; they didn’t need to worry about my home life. It was around then that I started to be curious about what Dad felt the need to yell so often over. Oftentimes, I’d hear the yelling and be tempted to go downstairs and listen. One step towards the door and I would freeze in my tracks. I stopped there and convinced myself that I didn’t want to know, or that it was adult business I wouldn’t understand.

There’s that word again. Understand.

Time went on, and the yelling didn’t stop. Sure, sometimes Dad went for over two months without a bad night, but that wasn’t often enough to make a difference. I never became immune to the horrible sound raking through the air. It tore at me, and I couldn’t defend myself. That’s why I yearned for the ends of the fights for more reason than one. Mum would come in. Sometimes I cried, but others I only whimpered like I was still eight years old. She sat with me and stroked my hair. I felt comforted, but nothing could erase all the damage Dad had caused.

As I got older, I started to see things in my father that made me like him even less. He was cold-hearted, not the way I remembered him from my early childhood. He worked long days and found excuses to go away on long trips. Sometimes he’d come home drunk; I could smell it on his good-night kiss. Twice he didn’t come home for a whole weekend, but refused to tell Mum where he had been. The worst thing was when he made Mum cry. “Susan needs a father, not a drunk coward,” she had said to him. He’d smelled that night. He only laughed, bellowed something about “I’ll teach you!” and pushed Mum, hard. I gasped, and he looked at me. Unfazed, he bellowed, “Go to your room, you little freak!” I cried that night.

But two summers later, it was that fateful July 18th of the year I was ten years old. Dad was arriving home from one of his trips that night, so Mum was cleaning the house, getting everything nice and ready for him. I helped where I could, mostly keeping Misty out of the way and picking up her balls of string. Then, something unremarkable happened: the mail arrived.

Little did I know that the night of July 18th would be the worst of all.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading! Reviews are much appreciated. And thanks to Kewii for her incredible comments... I realize that it takes a few chapters for Susan to get to Hogwarts, but hey, it's the same for Harry, isn't it? --Scarlet Crystal


Mum went out to get it. “Go take a bath,” she said.

“Okay!” I said, happy to do whatever she wanted me to do. I loved Mum so much. I went upstairs, skipping almost. That was when I heard it.

Hooting.

I nearly fell back down the stairs. Something was hooting outside! I went to the hall window. A gasp escaped me as I took in the sight of the window. Outside was a large brown owl, sitting on Mum’s flowerbed and looking right at me. I was immediately curious as to why there was a large beaked creature at our window. I approached it, not minding too much that it was there. I liked animals, and so did Mum. Besides, I had seen several other owls flying around our neighborhood before, even though they weren’t supposed to live in our area.

It had sharp eyes, and was staring at me severely. I moved eagerly but carefully towards it, not too afraid because there was a window between us. Soon, I was standing right before it. It looked me in the eye and hooted, softly this time. I looked back at it. Feeling amazed, I pressed my pale face against the glass, my palms and nose making little clouds on its surface. Suddenly, the owl stuck out its leg. I jerked myself back, away from the window, and grabbed at the door handle to my room, which was close behind my on my right. It pecked the window impatiently with its beak. Wondering why it was behaving so strangely, I let go of the handle and moved slowly back towards the creature.

Finally, I had the sense to look at its outstretched leg. Clutched in its talons was a parchment envelope. All I could see on it was a dark red seal of sorts with a strange H encrusted into it. Suddenly, a weird urge came over me. I wanted to open that window. I knew I shouldn’t. Only Misty was allowed in the house; other animals were restricted to the backyard. However, I couldn’t overpower the strong feeling of desire to wrench it open. I stared at the window, contemplating, when suddenly it flew open, as if it had waited long enough and finally opened itself like it had read my mind. I let out a shriek. The owl flew into the hall and into my room, just as if windows normally opened themselves just like that.

“Susan? Is everything all right?” Mum said from downstairs. Acting on a whim, I called out to her.

“Come quick!” I said, fully knowing that I would get in trouble for letting an animal in the house. But an owl! It was in my room and I wanted to get a closer look. I dashed into my room and saw it sitting, appearing to be bored, on top of my dresser. Soon, Mum was beside me. I beckoned for her to come into my room and shut the door behind her as soon as she had obeyed.

“What is it?” she said, looking at me, confused. I pointed soundlessly at the dresser. She followed my finger with her eyes. The owl looked at her and hooted.

I braced myself for a gasp or a reprimand, but none came. She only walked over to the dresser and reached for the envelope. I was so surprised, I stood rooted to the spot, unable to decide on how to react. The owl took off and began to fly in lazy circles around my room, looking as though it was waiting for Mum to open the envelope. She looked at it, and turned it over. Reading the address, she looked at me quickly, and seemed to beam with pride momentarily. Then, the owl let out an annoyed hoot and pulled her focus back to it.

“Let him out,” she said. I blinked. “Do it, love. Before he gets fidgety.” I mutely strode over to the door to the hall and let the bird out. He flew out the door and out the window, and on to some faraway destination. I went back to my room, but Mum was leaving already through the door, so we nearly collided. Her face was unreadable.

“What is that?” I asked, meaning the envelope. Mum seemed to consider for a moment.

“I’ll tell you after dinner,” she said finally, and left me standing there, nearly bursting with curiosity.


Dad came home, looking sober, and I was glad to see him. Sort of. He was tired and hungry, so Mum put dinner on the table surprisingly quickly and we ate. She looked uncomfortable, so I didn’t feel right. Dad didn’t seem to notice. I felt it then. He didn’t know his own family. He chatted away about Business and Progress and I tuned out, pondering the envelope. I was dying to know what it meant. I was patient, though, and decided not to bring it up until after dinner.

We didn’t have dessert, so I just helped Mum clear the plates away as Dad sat back to relax for a moment. We were putting away the milk when I finally couldn’t wait any longer. “Mum?” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Can you tell me about the envelope now?” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. She shut the refrigerator, then turned to me.

“I need to… talk with your father first, but when I finish, I promise I will tell you all about it,” she said, looking sincere. I nodded, wondering if she was putting it off or if she really needed to talk to him. Still, I had faith in her. Mum didn’t break promises. She gave me a quick hug and went back into the kitchen.

So I took Misty up to my room and pulled out a book. It had a smooth, green cover, and smelled like new pages. I opened it up and began to read, rubbing Misty’s neck and taking in the words. It took me a few minutes to realize that something was wrong.

Dad was starting to shout. I soon found out that he was bellowing so loudly that I could hear part of what he was saying. It was probably one of the worst of their fights. I tired to ignore it and go on reading, but I couldn’t. Dad’s voice carried easily up the stairs and into my room. “She’s not going anywhere!” he exclaimed. “I won’t let you cart her off to some madhouse! You and your freak community can stay away from her!” There was a short pause. Mum must have spoken, because Dad started up again: “I don’t care if she’s your daughter, too! She’ll be raised like a normal girl in my house. Here!”

I felt awful. They were fighting about me… Was it the envelope? I was pulled from my thoughts by a sound I didn’t hear much. Mum was yelling back. I didn’t have to go downstairs to hear her, either. She seemed really mad. Furious, in fact.

“Susan is my daughter! Every woman in my family for centuries has gone to this school. It’s a tradition, and whether you like it or not she’s going!” Mum said, hatred in her voice.

“I don’t care about your stupid family! I never liked them all that much from the start. I had a hunch that they were out of wack, and look! I was right!” Dad seemed almost triumphant. My insides churned, waiting for Mum’s response.

“If you don’t want her to go, you’ll just have to leave, because she’s going,” Mum said, this time just loud enough for me to hear. All was silent for a minute. Then Dad spoke, his voice venomous, saying, “Maybe… maybe I will.” Moments later, I heard the front door slam. The sound of a car being started sounded outside my window. Slowly, it became quieter and quieter until I could no longer hear the engine.

I was frozen, mid-word, mid-pet, for a long time. I hardly dared to breathe. Dad was gone. It didn’t really sink in until Mum trudged into my room, looking sadder than I had ever seen her before. The envelope was clutched in her right hand. For a moment, I only felt upset, but then all my curiosity came rushing back to me, and my gaze fixed on the envelope. That strange seal marked with an H looked so official. I could only wonder what it meant.

“Do you still want to talk about the letter?” Mum asked me. I didn’t have any doubt.

“Please, Mum,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. She sighed and looked at me. She seemed suddenly heavy with the night’s events. However, she made an effort to shake it off, and composed herself. I waited, giving her a moment. I could feel my heart pounding. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so eager anymore. Whatever that strange envelope was had made Mum upset and caused Dad to leave the house. I didn’t miss him, but the months of sadness welled up inside me, and I wanted to cry. Before I could tell Mum I had changed my mind and didn’t want it anymore, she turned over the envelope and handed it to me. I looked down at it, half expecting it to explode at any moment.

“Open it,” she said quietly. Mum’s voice was just louder than a whisper. I felt torn. What did this all mean? It was too much at once. Still, I knew that I would have to open it eventually, so I fingered the seal and slowly worked the envelope open. Wondering if I would be chastised for being so suspicious, I lifted the flap of parchment and reached inside. I quickly looked up at Mum, and caught her eye. I could tell she was sending all of her strength to me. If only I’d known how much change that envelope would bring.

A/N: Chapter title is from an episode of the TV show, Alias, by JJ Abrams. Thanks to Jedida for her awesome "Said is Dead" page!


Taking a deep breath, I pulled the thick wad of papers out of the envelope. Mum pulled herself closer to me on the bed so that we were sitting side by side, looking down at the first paper. It was a piece of thick parchment, with black, curvy letters dancing across the page. It looked so official that I paused for a moment to admire the writer’s penmanship. Mum pulled me out of my day dream after a moment, saying, “Susan? Is something wrong?” I looked at her quickly and shook my head.

“No. I was just…” I trailed off, and began to read.

‘HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Murley,
We are please to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await you owl by no later than July 31st.
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress ’

“Witchcraft,” I said quietly. “Wizardry.” The realization that I was not a normal girl was beginning to sink in. Misty crawled onto my lap and began to purr contentedly.

Mum seemed to be searching for what to say. Fear crawled into me. Was this why Dad had left?

“Mum. Why did Dad leave?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I think she knew I wasn’t just asking why he left, but why he always yelled. Why me?

“I don’t know if you remember this,” she started carefully, trying to approach the topic nicely, “but when you were around seven or eight years old, Misty came off the ground all by herself?”

“Actually, yes,” I said, timidly. Mum seemed saddened by this.

“I see,” she said, sighing heavily. “Well, your father didn’t know up until then about- about me. I’m a witch, and so are you, Susan. He wouldn’t accept that, and so he got angry.” I shifted uncomfortably.

“Was that why he always yelled?” I said, afraid of the answer. Mum looked at my letter, and then at me.

“Yes,” she said. “He never got used to it. I tried to talk to him, but he never wanted to listen. It’s made us grow apart.” I could hear the hurt in her voice.

“Did you ever tell him about this before?” I asked, holding up the papers, feeling upset. Mum had made Dad leave. He probably hated me now.

“I was afraid to tell him,” Mum said. “And look what happened when I did!” I knew she meant Dad leaving. Resentment crept in, but not towards Dad. It was towards that school. It had made my life hard, and I was not about to just forget what had happened to me and Mum because of it.

“I’m not sure I want to go,” I said softly. Mum looked at me, surprised.

“Why not?”

It was my turn to be surprised. Why didn’t she understand? “It made Dad leave us,” I said a little too loudly.

“I know that, but that’s not the only reason,” she said exasperatedly. I paused in my anger.

“There was more?” I felt embarrassed for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, ever since I told him, your father has been, well, less close to me. And you. He’s been…” she stopped, apparently unable to go on.

“What happened?” I asked, horrified. Mum looked pained.

“He’s been with other women,” she said in a rush. I gasped, bringing a hand up to my mouth. My Dad was unfaithful! I had always been taught that people who did that were bad people. That meant my father was bad. I could feel tears welling up under the surface. Poor Mum must have gone through so much. My anger faded and pity took its place. I felt so sorry. I took one look at Mum and saw years of unhappiness surfacing. I immediately threw my arms around her like I always did after Dad yelled. I knew at once that I didn’t hate magic and Hogwarts anymore. I hated Dad. He had made Mum, who I loved dearly, unhappy.

“I’m so sorry!” I whispered. A tear or two escaped from my eyes. Mum remained strong, however, and kept the tears inside. I marveled at how brave she was.

“But back to your letter,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face.

“Right,” I said, wiping away my stray tears and setting the first piece of paper down on the bed. There were a few other pages, so I skimmed over the next one. It was a list of supplies I’d need, like my uniform, books, and so on. At the bottom of the page was a capitalized note that read, “PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.” A little above that was a small note that said, “Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.” I looked at Misty, who was swishing her tail back and forth.

“Can I take Misty with me?” I asked hopefully. Mum looked at me, glowing with pride.

“Then you really do want to go to Hogwarts?” she asked. I nodded and grinned. She pulled me into a hug.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you, Susan!” she mumbled into my auburn hair. I closed my eyes and let her warmth flow over me. My mother was the best Mum in the whole world.

Since we lived in Hastings, Mum explained, we had to go to London to get me ready for school. Dad didn’t come home the next day, so we planned a trip up north. “Where in London?” I asked.

“Diagon Alley,” she replied. I’d never heard of it before. I asked her if normal people knew about this place. “Of course not!” Mum laughed. “Muggles don’t know anything!”

“What’s a muggle?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound dumb.

“A muggle is a person who is not magical,” Mum explained, not at all annoyed with me. She was a patient woman, and she loved me.

We packed a few nights’ worth of clothing and supplies and took the train to London. I was excited to go there, because I had only been to London a few times before. Mum used to go by herself a lot, and now I knew why: she was visiting her non-Muggle friends.

When we arrived at our destination, Mum and I got off the train. Everyone around us looked completely normal to me. I asked her if many of them were wizards or witches. She smiled at me and said, “No. They are probably all Muggles.” I came to understand that most people were Muggles. What boring lives they must lead! But Mum and I took the Underground to a stop somewhere in the city and soon surfaced in the streets of London. It was a busy place. I loved the feel of it. Mum and I walked around, looking at various sights for a while. Then, she told me, it was time to go to Diagon Alley.

We walked down some streets until Mum stopped in front of a small place called the Leaky Cauldron. I barely noticed it was there. All the Muggles walking by seemed to ignore it, but Mum pulled me inside anyway. Inside, the place was dimly lit. People wearing long, flowing robes sat at tables, enjoying drinks and chatting amongst themselves. Nobody noticed us come in, except for a woman sitting in the corner. She stood up and walked over to us, flinging her arms around Mum in a tight embrace. Mum returned the hug. I stood there, wondering who this woman was. She was a little taller than Mum, and her robes were a dark green. Her hair was a reddish brown, like Mum’s and mine, and tumbled down her back in loose curls. She was thin and fair-skinned, with long fingernails painted in a cute purple color. Mum seemed happy to see her. After a moment, she pulled out of the embrace and put her arm around my shoulder. I still only came up to Mum’s shoulder, but she had always assured me that she had been the short one in her family, too.

“Susan, this is Melinda,” Mum said, beaming at the tall woman. Melinda bent over a bit and kissed my cheek. I stood still, unsure of how to react.

“Why, Susan,” Melinda reflected playfully, “is that the proper way to greet your aunt?”

Melinda was Mum’s sister, I reasoned. I smiled shyly and returned her kiss on the cheek. Melinda stood up, looking happy. “Oh, Mary, she’s turning into a beautiful girl!” she cried happily. I blushed. Mum lovingly looked down at me.

“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Mum urged presently. Melinda nodded and gestured to her little table in the corner. We sat down after Melinda hugged Mum one more time.

Looking around, I felt out of place in my Muggle clothing. Mum didn’t seem to care, so I put it aside. “Do you want a drink, dear?” Melinda was saying to Mum and me. I declined, but Mum sat back and accepted.

“Butterbeer, please,” she said gratefully. Melinda got up at went to the counter. She soon returned, carrying two drinks. Placing one in front of Mum, she sat down. They sipped the brown liquid for a moment. Then, Melinda spoke.

“So Susan,” she remarked, “you got your letter?”

“Yes,” I said, still sort of shy. Mum set her drink on the table.

“She got it three days ago!” she corrected, beaming. Melinda looked excited for me.

“Oh, isn’t that grand!” she grinned. I nodded and looked at Mum. Her grin was fading.

Melinda seemed to sense that something was wrong. “Mary? What is it?” she asked immediately. Mum took a gulp of her Butterbeer, then spoke.

“It’s Eric,” she sighed. “He’s gone.” I looked down at my hands, which were squeezed in my lap.

“Oh dear,” she said quietly. Mum nodded, and explained what had happened. Melinda shook her head.

“Some Muggles just can’t take it,” she reasoned. “They don’t want to know that magic is real. It upsets their perfect, little world.” She and Mum shared a look. “If only he had been different.” I sniffled a little, and Melinda turned her gaze towards me. “It must affect you greatly, and Susan, too,” she said soflty. Mum placed a hand on my shoulder.

We sat in silence for a while. Melinda and Mum soon finished their drinks. However, they didn’t go for another round. Instead, Mum stood up, shortly followed by Melinda. “Let’s think happier thoughts,” Mum suggested, forcing a smile. I relaxed, and stood up. Putting Dad out of mind, I followed the sisters to the little courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. Melinda pulled out a strange piece of wood, crafted into a long, thin shape. It was a wand, I later found out. Tapping various bricks, she soon had the bricks rearranging themselves so that an archway appeared before my eyes. I shrank back into Mum’s arms, but she seemed not in the least disturbed by the strange thing happening. Picking up our little bags of clothing, she pushed me in front of her through the archway, following Melinda.

With a little thump, the archway closed itself behind me. I jumped slightly, and Melinda laughed.

“Never done magic in front of her before?” she exclaimed.

“How could I, Melinda?” Mum offered. “Then Eric would see it.”

“True,” Melinda admitted, and suddenly changed the subject. “Do you want to come back to my place first?”

“Of course,” Mum said brightly, not letting herself fall into a bad mood. I took my bag from Mum and held her hand. Melinda smiled and turned away from us.

We set off down the street that had been behind the archway. Not bothering to ask how this street could be here at all, I looked around me in wonder. Shops lined the cobbled street, selling magical things like cauldrons and broomsticks. I allowed Mum to pull me to a stairway in between a pub and a store called “Flourish and Blots.” The stairs were a bit old and rickety and were covered by a sagging roof, but soon we had reached the top. A few doors stood in front of us on the little landing. Melinda walked straight up to one on the right and pulled out an oddly-shaped key. Thrusting it in the lock, Melinda muttered something and turned her hand. With a click, the door swung open. Melinda stepped inside. Mum followed her.

“Come on, now,” Melinda encouraged. “Don’t be shy.” I stepped inside the place as Melinda shut the door behind me.

We were in a small, dark hallway, or at least that’s how it started out. Soon, Melinda had whipped out that wand again and flicked it towards small candles on the walls. Flames immediately sprung to life and the hallway was lit up. The walls were covered in dark, maroon wallpaper. A painting rested here or there. I stared at one, then jumped. The person in the picture had blinked at me. Mum laughed at my fear, and said, “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. In our kind of paintings and photographs, the images always move.” Our kind. I was one of them.

The floors were paneled in a soft wood that felt well traveled. The little hallway wasn’t very long, and contained only a coat rack. Mum pulled off her sweater and hung it up. I did the same. At the end of the hallway was a door, which we crossed to. Melinda pulled it open and ushered us inside. The room we next entered was brightly lit, with windows to the right looking down over Diagon Alley. It was a pleasant living space, with a homely kitchen and a cozy living room beside it. Three doors stood to the left, suggesting additional rooms, most likely bedrooms and bathrooms. Melinda was definitely in her comfort zone; the carpeting was thick and soft, so that I was tempted to kick off my shoes and let my toes sink into the plush mass under my feet. The walls, unlike those in the hallway, were crisp and smooth, with a deep red texture that fit the happy mood. Melinda took a deep breath, saying under her breath, “It’s good to be home.”

Mum looked around, laughing at some of the paintings on the walls. “You still have this one of me?” she cried. “I must have been only five years old when Mum took that!” Melinda’s eyes twinkled.

“I know. I stole it from the attic,” she said mischievously. Mum rolled her eyes.

“You always had some scheme or other cooked up,” she joked. I felt myself grin along with them. When Mum was happy, so was I.

“Let’s put your things away and relax for a minute,” Melinda persuaded. Mum agreed immediately and moved to open one of the doors. Melinda and I followed her.

“You have only one guest bedroom, so Susan and I will share,” Mum decided after surveying the quaint room. It had a queen sized bed with a wild floral print quilt and matching pillows. An old armoire stood in the corner, and a cushioned armchair sat beside it. It all looked perfect for a rainy afternoon in which one was best off curling up with a good book. Mum and I put our luggage on the bottom of the bed. I took one last look around the place before going back out into Melinda’s main rooms.

“Have a seat,” Melinda offered, gesturing towards the sofa near the windows. “Since we already had drinks, I don’t think I’ll make tea.” We all sat down. Mum and Melinda chatted for a while, but I spoke only when I was spoken to. It seemed that the two of them hadn’t spoken for a few months, since Mum didn’t get to come up to London that often. Melinda never came to Hastings. I don’t think she’d ever been to our house at all. I let them talk, resting my mind.

It was about half an hour later that Melinda stood up and said, “Well, we’d best go get Susan’s supplies for school.” Mum looked excited. I shared her feelings on this, and jumped to my feet. Melinda went into her bedroom. We heard her fumbling around with locks on drawers. After a minute, she returned with a small key. Presenting it to Mum, she looked at me brightly. “Let’s go!”


A/N: Thank you for reading, once again! And props to Annie for giving me Melinda's name. (Rock on Charmed Ones!)

We soon found ourselves back at the foot of the stairs up to Melinda’s flat. Diagon Alley was at our feet once more. Melinda nodded, and said, “Right. I expect we should go to Ollivanders first and get Susan a wand.” Mum shook her head.

“Gringotts first, Melinda,” she put in. Melinda laughed.

“Of course! How could I forget.”

Heading off down the street, I couldn’t helping gaping at all the various shops we were passing. Eelops Owl Emporium, for example. They apparently sold all kinds of owls, from Tawny owls to Snowy owls. It made me think back to the day when I had let an owl into the house. That had been July 18th. Pushing that memory to the back of my mind, I saw more shops. Some sold broomsticks, others cauldrons or quills. Presently, we arrived at a large white building. A strange creature stood next to the door. It took me a moment to realize that it was a goblin. Melinda, however, took no notice of this, and walked right past him. I kept my head down as we walked past; I could feel him looking at me.

Soon, we were inside and I instantly forgot about the goblin at the front door, because inside this great hall were a great deal of them behind a counter that must have been tens of yards long. They worked away, oblivious, measuring calculations and weighing coins or jewels. Melinda strode up to a goblin who sat gazing around the room and placed the key on the counter in front of him.

“We’d like to withdraw money from Mary Sholt’s vault,” Mum said. Melinda smiled at the goblin and pushed the key toward him. He picked it up and examined it over his large nose before nodding to them.

“Tarmich,” he croaked. A goblin stepped forward. It was then that I noticed the hall was filled with countless doors, most with a goblin standing by, waiting for a command. Tarmich was one such goblin. The goblin from the counter handed him the key and waved his hand toward the door. We smiled, and Melinda thanked him. The next thing I knew, we were in front of the Tarmich’s door. He opened it, and I was surprised to see a little cart in a dark passageway waiting to be ridden in. Tarmich ushered us inside before letting himself in and closing the door. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light of torches.

Before I could blink, the cart threw itself down the tracks, which dropped quite suddenly. I gasped and grabbed Mum’s arm. She smiled at me encouragingly. I smiled weakly in return. I didn’t find myself loving it and began to feel quite sick. I continued to clutch Mum’s arm.

Eventually, we stopped in front of a little door. Tarmich stepped out onto the ledge. Melinda, Mum and I followed (with much wobbling of legs on my part) as he unlocked the door. It swung open, revealing a few neat piles of coins. I nearly gasped again, but this time managed to keep it to myself. Mum looked around half-heartedly. It was clearly less than she had hoped.

“I can lend you some if you need it,” Melinda said anxiously. She shook her head. I realized that the room clearly could hold much more than it already did. Sweeping some coins into a little pouch from Melinda, Mum turned her back. I followed her, with one look over my shoulder. I choose to remain silent.

Not too much later, we were out in the sunlight of Diagon Alley once more. I took deep breaths of fresh air. It felt good. Before I could sit down to rest on a nearby bench, Melinda was walking away. “On to Ollivanders!” she said cheerfully. I sighed and moved onward, a little disoriented after the wild cart ride.

Melinda soon stopped walking in front of a small shop. Ollivanders turned out to be “Makers of Fine Wands,” boasting of business since 382 BCE. Though not quite impressive at the first glance of the exterior, the shop inside proved to be quite interesting. Each wall was lined with what seemed to be an infinite amount of thin boxes. Staring up and down the many columns, I didn’t immediately notice a peculiar man appear suddenly beside me. After a moment of gazing, my eyes came to rest on him. I jumped, not having seen him arrive, but quickly recovered.

“Why, hello Susan, child,” he murmured. “It is nice to see you at last.”

Melinda and Mum smiled at the man, who I realized was Mr. Ollivander himself. They were without a doubt remembering their first trips into Ollivanders to buy a wand. I couldn’t think of anything to say to him, so I smiled meekly and waited. He seemed to size me up, before turning to Mum and allowing his face to break into a smile.

“I’m glad you’re back, Mary,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve heard too many stories of the trifles of the Muggle world.” He turned to Melinda. “And you, my dear. I believe you’re living in Diagon Alley currently? Yes? I thought I saw you pass my shop on a few occasions.” His lip quivered, but he said no more before turning his gaze back on me. “Now,” he said softly, “which is your wand arm?”

I automatically stuck out my right hand, thinking it was most likely the same as with writing. He nodded, and Mum relaxed a little. She allowed herself to collapse into a small chair behind her. Melinda, however, remained standing by her side. I watched as Mr. Ollivander turned on his heel and swept over to one of the numerous columns of boxes. Running his finger down the length of six or seven boxes, he eventually selected one and pulled it out of the stack. Looking at me quickly, he nodded to himself.

“This should do,” he said. Before he opened the box, he snapped his fingers and a measuring tape materialized in his hands. After taking various measurements, he put that aside and removed the top of the box. A thin wand rested inside it, waiting for me to pick it up. I did so, and held it out in front of me, unsure what to do. “Beechwood and phoenix feather. It’s eleven inches long.”

“Just wave it about a bit,” Melinda suggested. I obeyed, swishing the wand here and there in front of me. Mr. Ollivander surveyed me over his glasses. After a moment, he stopped me by holding up his hand.

“That won’t do,” he said simply. He turned away and began to pull more boxes off of the shelves. He handed me a new box, which I opened and removed a wand from. “Mahagony and dragon heartstring. Go on.” I flicked it about, but Mr. Ollivander took it from my hand without comment.

We went on like this for one time, trying so many boxes that I started to fear that a wand for me wouldn’t be found, until he pulled one out of the farthest column. He handed it to me, and watched with immense interest as I warily pulled out the wand, afraid of another failure. “Willow and unicorn hair, only nine and a half inches long, but quite good all the same. You see, of all these boxes, no two wands are the same…” He trailed off, watching intently as I raised it just as I had with the others. For some reason that I couldn’t name, this wand felt different from the others. I swished it and pointed it at Mr. Ollivander, but he didn’t grab it from me. Instead, he began to rise off the ground ever so slowly, just as Misty had that one day in my childhood. Melinda let out a gasp, but Mum merely clapped her hands with delight. I grinned at her over my shoulder, glowing with pride. When I turned back to the man, he was still in the air.

“Aim your wand down now, dear,” he suggested kindly. I slowly lowered it, and he followed. I jerked the wand back when he reached the ground, and my power over him passed. I put my wand back into the small box and looked at it fondly. I felt like we knew each other already, that is, if a wand could have feelings. Mum pulled out the little pouch of money from Gringotts and pulled out several golden coins. Mr. Ollivander nodded to us and disappeared into the back of his shop, magically moving boxes back to their places.

Once we were back out on the street, Mum threw her arms around me in a huge hug. I was content. I had a wand! Did this mean I was initiated into the wizarding world?

Apparently, there was more to do in Diagon Alley. Melinda beamed at me once before striding over to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. I entered the shop to see a short, cheery woman in colorful yellow robes was standing by another young girl on a footstool that looked about my age. I walked over shyly; Melinda and Mum had chosen to sit outside and catch up on adult-like matters. Madam Malkin noticed me almost immediatley. “Are you here for your uniform?” She said, after smiling at me. “Hogwarts, right?” I nodded. She smiled again and pulled out another footstool next to the other girl. “Let me go get you some robes, dear. Claire! Here you are; attend to this young girl, will you?” Claire did a small curtsey in her golden robes and strode over to me. They were both very friendly. I allowed the tension to leave my shoulders. After a moment, I stole a glance at the girl next to me.

She was thin, with wispy blond hair and large eyes. She seemed to be staring off into the distance, pondering something very important. She held her arms out limply as if she didn’t really know where she was. I looked away. What a strange girl she was. A moment later, Claire pulled a large robe over my head and went on to stick many pins in it. It turned out I needed nearly a whole box of pins to fit my robe. I felt embarrassed. I was a small person, but I had never cared much before then. I bit my lip, unsure if I should apologize for taking up so many pins. I never got the words out, however, as the girl next to me startled me out of my thoughts.

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly. Her voice was just as strange and wispy as her appearance. I nearly jumped. I hadn’t expected her to say anything.

“Er,” I said awkwardly. “I’m… Susan.”

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” she breathed, staring at me piercingly. Her eyes still looked vacant, but I still felt as though she was staring right through me to the wall behind, which was covered in soft, pink-colored wallpaper.

“Hi,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“So you’re going to Hogwarts, too?” she noted, staring off into space again, though she was still addressing me.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to think of a question to ask her, to be polite. There was no need, because she continued a moment later.

“My father is getting me an owl,” she said proudly. “Is your father getting you something, too?” I didn’t quite know what to say to that. I knew right away that he most certainly would not, but what about Mum? It made me think of Misty. I wondered how she was getting on back home. Before I could form a careful answer, Claire stepped back to admire her work, and told me I was free to go. I took my magically sewn robes from her, and quickly left the shop, taking one last look over my shoulder at Luna Lovegood.


Melinda led us down Diagon Alley to yet another store. This one was called Flourish and Blots, and was filled with books. Pulling out my envelope, I noticed the required list once more. I handed the parchment to Melinda. She frowned, scanning it. “It has certainly changed since we were in school, Mary,” she said. “Look, here they have a half dozen Gilderoy Lockhart books listed for Defense Against the Dark Arts!” Mum’s eyes widened. This was going to cost us, I knew it. She sighed and took the sheet from Melinda.

“Let’s get it over with,” she said in a resigned voice. We stepped inside.

I was nearly pushed back out the door, the room was so crowded. Chaos reigned, with excited chattering and some happy squeals from the back of the shop. It took me a moment to realize that thre was a line formed, curving all around the room. I was taking it all in when suddenly a redheaded boy not too much older than I was bumped into me. I nearly fell over from the impact. His ears turned pink as he grabbed my wrist to steady me.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He followed his black-haired fried with a strange scar on his forehead towards door. Mum placed her hand on my shoulder as if to steady me. I looked up at her, and she smiled.

After a minute, the line began to move forward. Melinda went off and soon reappeared with all of the necessary Lockhart books. She opened her mouth to speak, when shouting came from two men near the entrance. They were both clenching their fists and had angry bulging eyes. I cringed, flinching at their yells. Mum wrapped her arm around my shoulders. I held my breath. One of the men had light blond hair and wore flowing black robes. A nasty expression dominated his face. The other man had flaming red hair like the boy who had bumped into me earlier. He wore an equally ugly expression. I retreated as far as I could into Mum’s warmth. It was then that I noticed the two boys watching from the side. Their faces were unreadable. I noticed a girl my age with the same red hair behind the cowering just like I was, standing next to a defiant girl with bushy brown hair.

Mum knew I was scared, so she said, “Oh Susan, don’t worry! They’re not going to-“

CRASH. I shrieked.

The men had leapt at each other, kicking and hitting. Their momentum had carried them into a large bookcase, which had spewed books all over. The sound resonated all around the room. For a moment, everything was silent but for the angry snarls of the men, who were still fighting. Then Melinda screamed. The men were fighting viciously, and a few more books rained down, people began pushing for the exit, while a man by the door pled with the crowd to calm down.

Ten minutes later, we had escaped, and with only two bruises between the three of us: one on Mum’s right wrist and one on Melinda’s left shoulder. “Why don’t we go home?” Melinda offered, contempt for her injury clearly in her voice. Mum instantly agreed, so we trudged back to Melinda’s comfortable flat.

When we had settled down after our ill-fated trip to Flourish and Blots, the sun came out and Melinda opened a window. Mum pulled out an old, crumbling book with silvery letters off a small bookshelf. I only got a glimpse of the title; it had something to do with family genealogies. They opened it up and peered inside the cover. “Last updated… five months ago. I wonder what was added?” Melinda said. The three of us sat down at the kitchen table, with me in the middle between the two sisters. They placed the book gently on the surface turning its pages carefully. I reached out to touch the parchment, then pulled my hand back.

“What do you mean by added?” I asked curiously.

“This book has a charm on it. There are many copies, each one charmed with the same spell. Somebody, an old pureblood most likely, has the original copy. Whenever he updates it, each addition is written into each of the other books as well. It’s a good system,” Melinda explained. “We could look up Sholt. That’s your mother’s maiden name, you know. Good magic family. See, here’s the page.” Melinda folded out a thick section of parchment. She traced her fingers smoothly over several names, none of which I recognized.

“Ah… there’s Dad,” Mum put in. I looked where she was pointing. The name Gorden Sholt was written carefully. A thin line connected it to Theresa Bones.

“We’re related to the Bones family. They are also a good family. Plenty of pureblood families are good, you know,” Melinda said.

“What’s a pureblood?” I asked meekly. I realized then I had a lot to learn about the wizarding world.

“Well, purebloods are people who have full magical heritage,” said Mum. “That means no Muggles at all in their list of ancestors. Of course, we’ve been marrying into Muggle families, so there aren’t too many pureblood households left. Take our family, for example. The Sholts were purebloods until I married your father. That makes you a half blood.” I shivered. I didn’t want to be a half blood. It sounded flawed, the way Mum said it. Maybe she was thinking of Dad.

“Who else are we related to?” I murmured, trying to change the subject. Melinda brightened immediately.

“Well, you could spend hours pouring over this book. Almost every pureblood family is linked at one point. Up here, in your great-great-grandfather’s time, his brother married into the Potter family,” Melinda exclaimed. She stopped and exchanged a look with Mum. I could only wonder what happened to the Potters.

“And the Crouch family, over here?” I said quietly, pointing to another marriage into the Sholts. Mum jumped and turned to me.

“Yes. Fine, sturdy people. I believe Mum was good friends with Delia Crouch, back in her day,” Mum said. “We married into their family twice. That’s not a record, though. We’ve married into the Bones family at least three or four times.”

“That’s nothing on the Blacks and Malfoys, though,” Melinda said, rolling her eyes. “They marry every other generation. It makes me sick.”

“They’re all the same, sneaky fellows with hidden agendas. But you get used to it,” Mum said with a laugh.

“Do they have children Susan’s age?” asked Melinda. I felt worried. I didn’t want to get to know any Blacks or Malfoys. They didn’t sound very nice.

“Not quite, but pretty close, I’d guess,” Mum replied.

“Yes; I’m almost sure old Lucius has a boy a year older than Susan. Or was it two years?” Melinda wondered. I flinched, hoping it was two. Mum must have noticed.

“Let’s talk about happier things,” she said. “Susan seems to dislike the sound of them all ready.” Melinda smiled.

“You just wait,” she chuckled. “You think you dislike them now, just wait…”


Ten minutes later, Melinda closed the book. “I suppose we should be sending Susan’s letter to Hogwarts,” she said tiredly. Mum nodded.

“What for?” I asked, wondering if this was a test.

“We have to reply, saying that you’re coming to the school,” Melinda said. “We just say, Yes, thank you. That’s all.” She pulled out a small roll of parchment and a quill. Apparently witches didn’t use Muggle pens. It was odd, thinking of myself as a witch, and talking of “Muggle things” instead of “normal things.” Mum took the quill from Melinda and scribbled a short note. Rolling it up, she turned to Melinda.

“Do you have an owl?” she asked. Owls again? How exciting!

Melinda shook her head. “Never bothered, with the post so near and all,” she muttered. Mum nodded. It was sensible. “Why don’t I run down to the post for you?” Melinda suggested. “You two can stay here and relax.” Mum thanked her. I smiled shyly and she pinched my cheek. With a sudden pop, she was gone. I jumped and a small shriek escaped my lips.

“Oh, Susan I’d forgotten that you haven’t seen Apparating before,” Mum apologized. I stood up as best I could, shaking a little.

“It’s fine,” I whispered, staring at the spot where my aunt had been only a moment before. Mum steered me gently over to the small bookcase against the wall.

“Here, why don’t you read a bit?” she said kindly. “Melinda has some books that will help you understand things around you better.” She pulled one off the shelf and handed it to me.

“Hogwarts, A History,” I read aloud. Mum tapped the book lightly.

“You’ll be going there, so it’s good to know some background information,” Mum said. “Why don’t you go read in our room?” I nodded and moved into the room.

I curled up with the book and began to read. I had read only one phrase before a resounding pop reached my ears. I jumped. Melinda was back. A moment later, she poked her head into my room. “You all right?” she asked sweetly. I nodded, and turned to my book. She laughed and left, shutting the door behind her.

Hogwarts, A History…


A/N: For those of you that are confused, you might want to go back and skim the two chapters before this one to see what I changed. Sorry. --Scarlet

We left London two days later, heading back home for Hastings. The ride was tense. Both Mum and I feared the place that we were drawing closer and closer to. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dad was there, waiting for us. What would he do? Had he changed? Would he except us, or throw us out? After I’d skimmed over most of my school books, I picked up some borrowed ones from Melinda. I clutched one of them to me when I noticed we were getting close. This one was an account of a war of magic almost seven hundred years back. An evil warlock from Portugal had nearly obliterated all magic. I had gotten about half way through it; I was a fast reader. Trying to draw my mind away from what might or might not await us back in Hastings, I opened my book to page 106.

‘O, beware!’ cried the Seer. ‘He is coming, and will destroy all unless the Protector can save her sacred people. Beware, yonder he comes! Thy children and thy children’s children shall suffer for all Eternity if the Protector fails. She must not fail, for all depends on her strength and the peace she doth bring…’ But the Seer fell to the ground, for an arrow had pierced her heart. She died, cometh the sickly dawn, and the war raged all around. Her last word was Protector…

… has attacked several wizarding forces camped in Northern Greece; all will feel his wrath. There is no escape, no refuge for wizards and Muggles alike. Still, the Protector has not been found. Who is she? Where will she emerge…

…found naught but sorrow here, where the loon cries for peace and the demons cry for death…

…Protector at loss, she cannot be found, and the dark powers are approaching the last of the noble forces…

…one man has set out to find the Protector. If he should not find her, he shall perish in his own home when the Spell is complete…

…some hope for the arrival of doom, if it should mean the end of suffering, but they know not the consequences…

…magic must not die, for it shall if the Protector is not found…

… Protector, save us! Magic…

…loss, terrible sorrows…

…Protector… Magic… losses… hope… suffering… terrible… cometh of doom… unfortunate… forever… eternity… helpless… death… fear…

…Protector…

My eyes shut and I fell fast asleep on page 138.


Mum shook me gently awake. It was early afternoon, and we were a block away from the house. Seemingly, she had not stopped the ride directly in front of our house, but a bit farther down the street. I gathered my things. Mum pulled my box of robes out of the back of the car. She looked around, and then at me. Worry was all over her face. “Let’s leave our things here,” she said quietly. “We’ll come back for them.” She nodded to me and I took a deep breath. I grabbed her hand and we set off towards the house.

Time seemed to speed up, for a moment later we were at the front door. Mum shook her head and walked to the side door, which was next to the driveway. She carefully put in the key, and turned it. My stomach dropped when I saw Dad’s car, resting peacefully in the driveway. An invisible hand seemed to close around my throat, blocking all air. I couldn’t breathe. Mum squeezed my hand, and slowly pushed the door open.

The house seemed deathly quiet at first. Then, I heard the dull sound of a television in a room near the front of our house. Mum stepped inside. I reluctantly followed her. We stood in a small hallway, with stairs on our right and a door to the kitchen on our left. Mum shut the door behind us. At the far end of the hall, an open door revealed our familiar living room. I could see part of the television screen; a news report of bad weather brewing was being stated matter-of-factly by a man in a clean suit. He pointed here, and ran his hand back and forth there. I watched, afraid to speak. Mum took a step towards the room and stopped. She needed my support, I knew, but I was not brave enough to face Dad like Mum was. Feeling awful for abandoning her when she needed me most, I let go of her hand and shrank back against the wall. She looked at me, but seemed to understand. I fled into the kitchen as she set off, head held high, marching off to face the greatest evil known to me at that moment.

I sat shakily in a chair by the table and rested my elbows on its surface. For a moment, I looked at the quickly graying sky outside the window. A storm was coming; I could feel it. Then, I put my head in my hands and clutched the wavy hair near my scalp just above my forehead. I was frightened. Every one of Mum’s footsteps seemed to break the almost-silence. My heart went out with her. If only I had gone, too…

The footsteps stopped, and a moment later the television was turned off. The sound of Dad scuffling to get to his feet rattled my bones. I wanted to run away, and not hear what I knew was coming.

To my surprise, he did not yell. He only spoke in a deadly voice, though it was as soft as could be. I stood, letting my arms fall to my sides. I took one step towards the hall door, listening. I took a few more steps, until I was just at the border between the kitchen and hall. Mum stood like me, framed in a doorway.

“I’ve had enough,” Dad was saying. “I don’t want any of this. And, right now, I don’t want to speak to you.”

“But you must!” Mum burst out, cutting him off. She clenched her fists behind her back. “We need to talk about it, or the problem will never be fixed.”

“No,” he said forcefully. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t give a damn if the problem is never solved. You and Susan can both go to hell for all I care.” That awful hand closed up my throat once more. I couldn’t decide: which was worse, his yelling, or what he was doing right now?

“Eric, please…” Mum said, her voice wavering. She was losing the battle, and she knew it.

“Maybe someday, but I can’t take this right now. I’m leaving. Don’t expect me to come back any time soon,” Dad added. Mum stepped aside suddenly as he strode past her, heading for the door to the driveway. I leapt back. As he walked past, he glanced at me for a split second, then looked away. I nearly collapsed. There had been hatred, a loathing so strong that it might explode, all of it buried in those eyes.

The door slammed shut. And, for the second time, I heard my father drive away from us. This time, it was for eternity, like the suffering in the book I had been reading. I didn’t want to suffer for eternity. My dad had hurt me permanently, and I couldn’t even bring myself to call him Dad or Father anymore. Sure, he was my father, but from then on, he was just Eric. An acquaintance. It was too late for him to be Dad ever again. Eric.

The sound of his car faded, and he was gone. Eric was gone.

“Mum?” I whispered. Mum hadn’t moved since Eric had brushed past her. “Mum?” I repeated, almost whimpering.

“Susan?” she choked. My heart skipped a beat. Her voice was broken. I heard her take a few steps into the living room. The couch made a soft shh as she collapsed onto it. I walked heavily out of the kitchen, using the walls for support. Moments later, I fell onto the couch beside her. “It’s… going to be okay,” she sniffed. I buried my face in her hair, trying to let her usual comforting force seep into me. She felt cold, as if she had been standing out in the snow for hours on end. This was wrong. Mum wasn’t supposed to be unhappy, ever.

“What will we do?” I sobbed, feeling the tears explode on my cheeks.

“We won’t stay here,” she said, pulling me up so that I sat next to her, leaning on her as she held me.

I desperately wanted to ask her why Eric couldn’t�”or wouldn’t�”understand, but I could not voice the words.


After a silent dinner, we brought our things inside. “All you need now is a trunk,” Mum said, trying to be cheerful. I didn’t say anything.

Mum led me upstairs to a trapdoor in the ceiling of her bedroom. I couldn’t help noticing that the bed was unmade and the dresser open, with clothes spewed all over the room. I looked away, then up at the door. A ladder was hanging down. Mum went up first, then I followed. The attic was a dark and dusty place, with old boxes. Mum pushed some bags marked “Mary” over to one side, revealing an old chest. It had metal framing on a smooth leather surface. She ran her hand lovingly over it.

“This was my school trunk,” she said, smiling at me. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she were off in another world where memories came flooding back. I let her remember and looked more closely at the trunk. It was a fine trunk, and still in good condition. It needed a good dusting, but it would easily do the job. It was well made, and had a metal latch on the front. I wanted to rub my fingers over that latch. It would shine and I could admire it. Mum came back to the attic and inhaled deeply. “I want you to have my trunk,” she said.

I turned to her. “It’s a wonderful trunk,” I said, letting myself forget about the afternoon. Mum gave me a little hug.

“I’m going down. You can stay a bit, if you want,” she said. She climbed gingerly down the ladder.

Now that I was alone I took a good look around. On this side of the attic, several bags and boxes marked “Mary” were within my reach. I pulled one over to me and unfolded the cardboard flaps. Inside, piles of photos and papers lay, waiting to be viewed. I picked up a photo. It wasn’t moving. It was of Mum and Eric on the day he proposed. Eric was kissing Mum’s cheek. Mum was holding up her hand, which sported a pretty ring. They both looked immensely happy. Eric looked like a nice man, only a year younger than Mum. That was thirteen years ago, I reminded myself. People change. Eric had, and come to think of it, so had Mum.

I put the photo down and picked up another. This one was of Mum and Melinda grinning outside a little house. I hadn’t seen it before, but written on the back was Our House. It must have been back when Mum lived with Melinda. Still, it had been taken with a Muggle camera. I set it down with the one of the engagement ring and thrust my hand deep into the box, pushing aside everything on top and reaching for the very bottom. When my hand hit cardboard, I felt around for the nearest photo. I carefully pulled it out to examine.

To my satisfaction, the photo was a moving one. It showed a young girl with a woman, probably her mother. The girl held a little toy that resembled a broomstick. I laughed. Toy broomsticks? It must have been fun. I studied the girl. Auburn hair. Fair skin. A few freckles. She looked just like me. But it couldn’t be me, because that woman looked unfamiliar. Her nose resembled mine, but other than that… And then the idea struck me. How obvious it was! The woman was my grandmother, and the girl my mother, at age six or seven, most likely. I’d seen pictures of myself at that age, and we looked almost like twins. Only I was a little smaller than Mum. That must come from Eric’s side.

I set the other pictures back into the box, folded the flaps, and pushed it away. Clutching the moving photo of Mum smiling and looking up at my grandmother and waving, I descended the ladder.

The days flew by. Eric didn’t call, and Mum didn’t try to reach him. We didn’t want to disturb the peace. Melinda came out to visit us in mid-August, bringing me some sweets from a candy store in some faraway place called Hogsmeade. Soon, however, it was September 1st, and we drove to the train station once more. The first train took us to the train station in London. We got off that train, collected my trunk and moved over to Platform 10. “Now, Susan,” Mum said. “We are going to Platform 9 ¾. To get there, you have to run through the barrier.” She pointed to a solid brick wall between the platforms. I gulped. “It’s not difficult. Just push your trolley, and run and the gate. You can walk, but run is easier if you’re nervous. If you need a minute, it’s alright. It’s only 10:55.”

I turned away from the wall, looking for a safer route. We stood there for a few minutes. Mum began to look a little concerned. Then, I spotted the red-haired family coming towards us very quickly, the black-haired boy in tow. “Susan?” Mum said softly. I took a deep breath and nodded. “Take your time… you’re ready?” I nodded again. “I’ll run with you. Don’t worry, it’s always scary the first time.” She smiled encouragingly, and we broke into a run. Nobody was staring as we ran straight at the barrier. I grit my teeth and leaned forward.

Suddenly, instead of the impact of a us hitting brick, we were no longer on the other platform, but on Platform 9 ¾.

I stopped in my tracks, amazed to be seeing such wonders. Before me, a bustling train platform thronged with people, most of which were dressed in robes and cloaks like the ones I’d purchased. I stared around with wide eyes. Mum moved me out of the way. Somebody else came through, suddenly appearing before the brick wall. The only difference of this side was that a large gate stood by the wall, as if it shut sometimes so people couldn’t accidentally fall through. Wide eyed, Mum led me towards the scarlet train, the Hogwarts Express. More people were arriving every minute. I was glad we were early; no doubt many more people were on the way. Mum turned to me.

“Let’s get on the Hogwarts Express, shall we?” she asked. I nodded and followed her.

We stepped onto the train, then walked inside the long hallway looking for a compartment with nobody in it. That didn’t take us very long. Many more people would be coming, I guessed. I sat down happily as Mum stowed my trunk. Mum looked at me, and said, “I’m going to stay a bit. Do you want to sit in here, or go outside?” I looked out the window.

“Inside,” I decided. She sat down next to me, sighing contentedly.

We sat for a while, but soon it was almost 11:00. Mum told me she had to visit Melinda’s before she went home, and wanted to catch her before she went out. I hugged her several times, not wanting her to leave me alone. At last, she stepped out the door. I watched her from my window. She saw me, waved, and disappeared with a pop just like Melinda had. I couldn’t hear the sound this time, so I didn’t jump. I was nearly used to it already.

I stared out the window mournfully. I wondered how long I’d last at Hogwarts.

“Hello,” said somebody from the door to my compartment. Startled, I jumped up from my seat and whirled to face the door. It was Luna Lovegood, the strange girl from Madam Malkin’s.

I gulped. “Hello.”

“Is it okay if I ride in here? Most everywhere else is full or unwilling to take me,” Luna said vaguely. I nodded. She didn’t thank me, but glided slowly over to the seat across from me and sat down.

We sat in silence as the train started up. With a puff of smoke, we pulled away from the platform. Luna looked briefly out the window. She waved once, then turned back to me. “What house do you think you’ll be in?” she asked, looking at me wonderingly. I shrugged. I’d read about the houses in Hogwarts, A History. They were Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. I’d ruled out Slytherin. People like Blacks and Malfoys belonged in that house. Hufflepuff seemed out as well, seeing as she wasn’t much of a friendly person. Thinking of my shyness, I ruled out Gryffindor.

“Ravenclaw, I guess,” I said softly. Luna leaned back against her chair.

“Me, too,” she said. “My family’s always been in Ravenclaw. I suppose it’ll be the same for me. Which house were your parents in?” She looked me over. “Are you a Muggle?”

“I’m a Halfblood,” I said, thinking of the book back at Melinda’s flat. I’d forgotten to ask what house Mum had been in. “Mum is a witch.” Luna nodded. I didn’t try to start the conversation up again, and was spared having to talk more when a nice lady with a cart of candy came in. I didn’t have any money, but Luna pulled out some wizarding coins and bought something called a chocolate frog. A little card came with it, which she surveyed before setting on the seat beside her. After glancing once at the frog, she took a bite out of it and proceeded to eat it all while staring out the window.

Luna didn’t speak too much after that, but pulled out a magazine called the Quibbler. At one point, she asked me to hold it open for her while she followed steps to make a strange summoning dance. I feared results, but nothing happened. Then, she turned to another article, which caused her to stare at me every few seconds, as if she were looking for symptoms of something terrible that was described on the pages. When she asked if I wanted to look at it, I refused politely. When the cart lady passed our compartment the second time, this time returning to the front, she suggested we change into our robes. Luna pulled out hers, and I mine. Soon, I wore my Hogwarts uniform. I felt like a witch. With a clang, the train eventually slowed, then stopped. We had arrived at Hogwarts School.

I stepped off the train with Luna, holding tightly to Misty. I was immediately swept into the huge crowd of people flowing in one direction, away from the Hogwarts Express. I quickly lost sight of Luna. Panic engulfed me. I was alone, small for my age, and insecure. People a foot taller than me were pushing past, nearly knocking me over. Misty hissed at a tall girl, but she just kept walking. Nobody stopped. There were no familiar faces anywhere.

Just as I was about to be knocked over by a heavyset boy, a thick hand thrust itself into the crowd and grabbed my cloak. I gasped as I was easily lifted off my feet. What was happening? I was so lost. A moment later, I found myself hanging in front of the largest man I’d ever seen. It was his arm who held me up. I wanted to scream, but I was frozen. He only smiled gruffly and set me on the ground.

“Firs’ years this over here,” he said, not unkindly. I nodded, still frightened, and cast about for Luna. I couldn’t see her. The man set me down between two boys my own age. The large man turned to the crowd and announced loudly, “My name is Hagrid. I’m the school’s gamekeeper. We’re about ter sail across this lake, so get in a line and follow me.” A few moments later, we had reached the soft shore of the Lake. The castle of Hogwarts stood magnificently at the other end. “Now, get into little groups and pile onto these boats. Mos’ly, I’d keep it ter about four people. Go on!” I stepped into the boat, the two boys right behind me, one blond and one brunette. Misty huddled in my lap. Hagrid the gamekeeper settled into a boat several yards away. Once we were all settled, he bellowed, “FORWARD!”

We were silent as the boats pushed themselves offshore. The boys were staring, jaws open at the castle. I wanted to join them, but a ripple in the water caught my attention. I’d read in Hogwarts, A History that the Lake was home to a giant squid. As nice as Hagrid seemed, I didn’t trust the water. I gripped the sides of the little boat tightly, my thin arms stretched as wide as they could go. One boy turned to the other. Apparently, they’d already met and exchanged names. The one next to me with blond hair began talking about Quidditch. I’d read about that, too, so I didn’t say anything.

When we were about half way across the Lake, the brunette turned to me and said, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Susan,” I replied shyly. He nodded shortly.

“I’m Michael Corner, and this is Colin Creevey,” he said, gesturing to his friend. Colin waved and smiled. Misty stood up, took one look at the water, and retreated back into my robes. Michael looked at my cat and frowned. “How old is your cat?”

“She’s six, and she’s named Misty,” I answered, letting go of the edges of the boat slightly. Michael seemed to consider this.

“I have one, a boy, who looks just like her,” he said thoughtfully. It seemed as though the first wave of homesickness was hitting him then.

Suddenly, Colin cried out. “OUCH!” he yelled. Heads turned in the boats near us. I felt our little vessel rock violently. Renewing my tight hold on the edges of the boat, I shrieked. What if we fell in?

“What is it?” Michael asked urgently.

“That- cat- clawed me!” Colin said through gritted teeth. I hadn’t even seen Misty go, but there she was, flowing back into my lap as if nothing had happened.

“It means she likes you,” I said softly. I turned my head so he could see a small scratch next to my ear that I’d accumulated on the train ride. He shook his head, but said nothing after that.

When I was sure that the boat was calm, I carefully released the sides. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hands on Misty’s back. Her fur was bristling, but she was sitting in one place, relaxed somewhat on her haunches.

Soon, the boats floated underneath a stone archway under the mountain and into a large tunnel. Hagrid yelled for us to keep our heads low as we passed underneath, but soon we had pulled up to a rocky shore, where the boats stopped with a gentle bump. Colin, Michael and I jumped off the boat, happy to be on flat ground again. Next, we all followed Hagrid up a stone passageway to the ground, which brought us to the grassy grounds right around the castle. The gamekeeper led us to a large door, where we all squeezed up the short stairs right outside it. Hagrid knocked, and presently a stern woman opened the door. She wore deep blue robes and smiled curtly at us.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” she said. He stepped aside. To the rest of us, she said, “My name is Professor McGonagall. Would you please follow me?” We all obeyed as she turned on her heel and walked down the large hall that the big door led to.

I couldn’t help staring at my new surroundings as I walked click-clack along with the rest of the new students. The great thick castle walls, the tapestries, the paintings… it was as if it were out of a fairy tale. I shrunk back as something very transparent slid through the wall in front of us. Some other people gawked, but I was scared. I clutched Michael’s sleeve. “It's just a ghost,” he said. I quickly withdrew my hand.

Looking behind me, I noticed the red-haired girl from Flourish and Blots. She looked excited, as if she’d been looking forward to this for a long time. I wish I shared her feeling, but at that moment, I was feeling less excitement and more fear. I nervously gripped the edges of my school robes, which would soon have a little embossed image on them. Looking down at the sleeves, I sighed. They were still a bit too long, despite the fact that they had been pinned against my own tiny figure.

After a moment of sitting a small room, Professor McGonagall marched us in a neat line into the Great Hall, which I recognized immediately from reading Hogwarts, A History. Four long tables filled with students lay in front of us. We walked in between the two middle ones, heading for a smaller, raised one at the head of the room with adults I assumed to be the school teachers. Suddenly, we stopped and formed a small crowd in front of a worn three-legged stool. On it sat a battered old wizard’s hat. McGonagall approached it and turned to us.

Out of nowhere, a rip in the hat pulled itself open. My heart skipped a beat as it somehow began to sing. I listened, then remembered a passage from the book in which it explained this event. It was the sorting hat, and it always sang a song before each sorting. I relaxed and listened as it talked about the founders of the school and the qualities that each house resembled.

“Please come forward when I call your names,” she announced looking through her glasses at us piercingly. A man with a long, silver beard caught my eye.

“Adder, Priscilla,” she said. A girl on my left with a squashed face stumbled over to the stool and waited. After a pause, she snatched it up and put it on her head. Seating herself firmly on the stool, she wobbled slightly as the hat twitched.

With no warning, the hat screeched, “Slytherin!” I jumped. Michael looked at me. One of the tables broke into applause as Hannah made her way over to them.

“Are you okay?” he said, frowning again. I nodded, balling my hands into fists to steady myself.

“Clearwater, Hannah,” McGonagall exclaimed. Another girl approached the hat. Presently, the hat yelled out, “Ravenclaw!” A different table began clapping for the girl as she joined them, looking extremely pleased.

Soon, Corner, Michael was called (“Ravenclaw!”) followed by Creevey, Colin (“Gryffindor!”). Then, later on, Lovegood, Luna (“Ravenclaw!”) was called forward. I waited for McGonagall to say Murley, Susan, but nothing happened. She went right on to Pitt, David (“Hufflepuff!”). My heart skipped a beat. My quick mind at work, I knew instantly that something was wrong. I had been skipped. Students all around me were slowly stepping up to the stool and getting sorted into their houses. The redhead was still behind me, as well as a few others, but I was rapidly loosing focus. It was only a matter of time before I was upset enough for everyone to notice. I cast around for something to do, and my eyes fell on the man sitting at the middle of the staff table. He was watching me calmly. Something about those eyes made me stop fidgeting. I clasped my hands behind me, bewildered.

Before I had a chance to come up with something, Professor McGonagall spoke. “Sholt, Susan.”

I froze. Sholt. Susan. That was me. But my last name was Murley, and Sholt was my mother’s name…

Something propelled me to step forward, unsteadily, and pick up the old hat. I sat on the stool, and placed it on my head. I sat, my mind nearly exploding with confusion and curiosity. As I waited, I could have sworn I heard a soft “Hmm…” It was only a short time before the hat spat out, “Gryffindor!”

Amidst cheering, I stood up. I fumbled as I removed the hat. Looking around uncertainly, I saw McGonagall smiling at me. Encouraged, I walked as quickly as I could over to the table and sat down near the end. Some students near me patted me on the back. “Congratulations!” they said. I smiled at them as best I could. To my left, I noticed more redheads. They all had similar freckles. I decided that it must be one large family. Maybe it was the Malfoys? I shuddered, then remembered that Malfoys belonged in Slytherin.

I looked up as the redheaded girl sat down next to me. She smiled brightly. “I’m Ginny Weasley,” she said.

“I’m Susan,” I replied. “Susan… Sholt.” Somehow, I was no longer Susan Murley.

“Nice to meet you,” she said. She waved to the other redheads.

“Those are my brothers. Well, some of them,” she said, and her smile faded. She glanced up and down the table, but didn’t seem to find what she was looking for.

“Are you a Pureblood?” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

She looked at me quizzically, but replied, “Yes. How about you?”

“I’m a Halfblood,” I said, wondering why I had brought it up.

“Really? It’s just like Harry Potter! Are both of your parents magical?”

I didn’t know who Harry Potter was, though I’d seen mention of him in some of the newer books I’d found in Melinda’s collection. “Well, no. My mum is a witch, but my dad isn’t. He’s a Muggle,” I explained, glad I knew the word. She seemed to accept this.

“I see. It’s not… exactly like Harry Potter, but it’s pretty close,” she said. I nodded, though I still didn’t know why she kept talking about him, whoever he was.

The man with the silver beard stood up. “That’s Professor Dumbledore,” whispered Ginny. “He’s our Headmaster.”

So this was Albus Dumbledore. I’d also seen references to him in my books. He’d invented something important to do with dragon blood. He surveyed his students. Somehow, his eyes ended up on me. I squirmed slightly. He must have known somehow that I no longer could call Eric my father. He must have known I didn’t feel like I wanted to be related to him anymore. He’d used my mother’s maiden name, the name of an old wizard family…

“Welcome, students,” he said. His eyes left me and looked merrily at the whole room once more. “It’s a new year, and I’m glad to see each and every one of you. Now, please, help yourself to our delicious feast!” As he spoke, the tables magically filled themselves with food. I gaped as Ginny squealed excitedly and reached for the serving spoon.

“Oh, well done, Ginny!” a girl with bushy brown hair across the table squealed as she filled her goblet with an orange drink. “I just knew you’d be put into Gryffindor.” She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth. The two in the front were slightly too big. Ginny beamed.

“Thanks, Hermione!” she said, scooping potatoes onto her plate. Hermione turned to me.

“I’m Hermione. You’re… Susan?” she asked, tipping her head to one side.

I wasn’t used to so much attention. Shrinking into my seat, I nodded and reached for a roll of bread. Hermione paid no attention to my shy disposition.

“That’s lovely. I’ve read all about the ancient wizarding families. Though you won’t find Granger on the list, I’m proud to be a witch,” she said happily. I took a bite of food. Ginny swallowed loudly.

“Where are Harry and Ron?” she asked. Hermione sighed and took a bite of turkey.

“Well, I don’t know,” she admitted. “They didn’t show up on the platform. Mind you, your parents were immediately upset when they saw the barrier locked up. We all just assumed they’d come on when we weren’t looking and gotten onto the train by themselves. But I don’t see them.” She looked around to confirm her statement. Ginny made an irritated noise.

“Wherever they are, Ron’s going to get it from Mum,” she said soberly. Hermione nodded. I didn’t even have to ask who Harry and Ron were. Harry must be Harry Potter, and Ron was obviously the other redhead, the boy I’d seen in Flourish and Blotts, and Ginny’s brother. How many siblings did Ginny have?

“So, Susan,” Ginny said. “Aren’t you glad to be here? I know I am.”

“Yes,” I said truthfully, realizing that I was glad. Mum was proud of me, and I was away from Eric. Far away. “I’m looking forward to classes,” I added. Ginny shrugged.

“I guess I am, too,” she said. Hermione turned to me.

“Oh, I love the classes! You just wait, the material is fascinating,” she said excitedly. Ginny rolled her eyes, but I doubt anyone besides me noticed.

“Do you like school?” Ginny asked me.

“Yes. Back at home, I didn’t do much else,” I said, relaxing a little. Hermione nodded vigorously.

“Me, too. And Hogwarts is a great place. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

I smiled, grateful for her remark.

“Oy! Ginny!” one of the redheads down the table yelled. He and the boy next to him grinned. They were obviously twins.

“Hi Fred! And George,” Ginny said, waving at them.

“We knew you’d get into Gryffindor,” George said.

“Well, at least, we assumed you would, but you never know,” Fred added. Ginny laughed and went back to her food.

We ate happily and talked a bit. I tried to feel like the brave Gryffindor lion mentioned in the Sorting Hat’s song and contribute to the conversation as much as possible. However, Ginny did most of the talking. After a time, I set down my fork and took a last sip of the orange drink, which I found out was pumpkin juice. Everyone around me was finished eating. They chatted peacefully amongst themselves, but fell silent when Albus Dumbledore stood up again.

“That was a wonderful feast. But, now that we’ve all filled our stomachs, let me say a few things that you all should know. The Forbidden Forest is still forbidden, and Mr. Filch would like me to remind you all that he, too, is capable of giving out punishments for use of magic in the hallways. Please remember to glance at his list of prohibited objects, as well. Oh, and one final thing: there are a few spots open on the various house Quidditch teams, so tryouts will be occurring very soon. That said, everyone follow your prefects to the dormitories. Once again, welcome back.” He sat down, smiling at us. The hall was immediately full of the noise of people standing up and talking with their friends.

Ginny and I walked over to the door, where Hermione met up with us. I had gathered that she was a year above me and Ginny, but I didn’t mind. My interest in school studies matched hers. We walked out of the hall, me gazing at all of the paintings while Hermione babbled on about her summer homework. After climbing several sets of staircases that swung back and forth, we arrived in front of a large portrait, fondly called the Fat Lady by the people in front of me. The female prefect said something and the door swung open. I followed the crowd inside and found myself in a circular common room, with a roaring fire and many cozy armchairs. Hermione pointed to a staircase of to the side. “That’s where the girls sleep,” she said. I yawned and followed her and Ginny over to it. Hermione said goodbye to us as we stepped inside the first door we came to.

The room was bare, containing only a few empty beds. A few moments later, three other girls burst into the room, giggling and looking frazzled. These were our roommates, and I immediately felt awkward. Should I introduce myself?

“Oh, hello,” said Ginny, smiling slightly. She tensed as one of the girls looked her over and didn’t smile in return.

“Hello. I’m Colleen,” she said loudly, nudging her friend. The third girl was already moving towards one of the beds. I took a step back. They didn’t like me already.

“I’m May,” the other one said in a soft voice, putting on a smile. Ginny bristled slightly. Why were they looking at us like we were stupid?

“That’s Paige, over there,” Colleen said, still speaking loudly as though I was deaf. Paige shot Colleen a look over her shoulder. May yawned widely.

“Do we just choose a bed, then?” May asked.

“I guess,” said Ginny, turning away. “I’ll take this one. Want to be next to me, Susan?” I nodded immediately and went for my trunk, which was sitting with the others in the middle of the room. I strained to drag it to my bed. Colleen reached for her trunk, then turned to me. With an impatient noise, she shoved my trunk towards me. Absorbing the weight of the push, my back hit the wooden frame of the bed with a thunk.

“Ouch!” I yelped, before I could stop myself. Tears began to fill my eyes as heat rose in my cheeks. I covered my face and retreated into my bunk, shaking slightly. Colleen took no notice, only kicking her trunk off to the side. Ginny stopped unfolding a pair of pajamas and whirled to face Colleen.

“What are you on about?” she demanded. I sobbed quietly, letting out all my anxiety and all of my fear. Colleen ignored Ginny. May tittered uncertainly and Paige looked slightly apprehensive.

Colleen turned to face Ginny. Drawing herself up to her full height, she looked down at Ginny, who was more than three inches shorter than herself. Paige averted her eyes. “I was tired of waiting,” Colleen said matter-of-factly. “Susan tripped, that’s all.” Ginny’s hands balled into fists.

“Don’t�”I tripped,” I broke in. Ginny didn’t need to get in trouble. I began repeating to myself, trying to convince myself that it was true. “I… tripped.” Ginny didn’t move. Colleen went back to getting ready for bed. Paige was frozen in the act of picking up a shirt. Noticing a set of red curtains for the first time that hung conveniently on the four-poster, I pulled them shut. Closing my eyes for a moment, I took a few deep breaths. Opening my eyes, I saw Misty. She was sitting on the far end of the bed, eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. “Come,” I whispered, holding out my hand. Obediently, the cat flowed into my lap. Stroking her fur, I relaxed. Presently, the sound of trunks opening and closing stopped. Silence fell over the room.

“Susan?” Ginny said softly. I did nothing. Maybe she would think I was asleep.

Whether or not she believed I was awake, Ginny didn’t call for me again.

When I was sure that everyone was asleep, I put Misty next to me on the bed and pushed the curtains aside. My trunk was where I left it. I opened it carefully and extracted a pair of pajamas that was on top of the rest of my clothes. I quietly slipped into them. When I moved to shut my trunk, the moving photograph of Mum, the one as a child holding her mother’s hand, caught my eye. Misty purred quietly as I crawled back into my bed and shut the curtains. For a while, I stayed awake, staring at the picture, watching Mum sway back and forth on her heels, smiling at whoever was taking the picture. Eventually, I drifted off, with Misty purring all the while.

The next day, I woke before everyone else and changed into my robes as quickly as possible. For some reason, I didn’t want Ginny to wake up and come with me. Once I was ready, I stepped out of the dormitory and crept quietly into the common room. The fire was still burning. I looked about, adjusting myself to my new surroundings. Mum had been at Hogwarts, once. I didn’t know if she was a Gryffindor, though. I had to ask as soon I as I wrote my first letter.

The Great Hall was filling slowly when I entered. A few students were already up, but as I sat down and began to eat, more filed in slowly, looking tired but content. I ate slowly, thinking about Misty. What would she do while I was in class?

“Morning,” Colin said, sitting down next to me. I flinched slightly, then recovered.

“Morning,” I mumbled.

“Stay up late?” he yawned. I shrugged and took a bite of toast.

“Well, I expect we’ll get our schedules sometime,” Colin said slowly. He helped himself to a plate of eggs and bacon. I nodded, chewing my toast. I looked up and studied the ceiling. It was cloudy and gray. I sighed and glanced at the door. Hermione was entering it, looking annoyed. She sat down next to me and pulled out a book, titled Voyages with Vampires. It was one of our Defense Against the Dark Arts books. She filled her bowl with porridge and glared at the text.

“Is… something wrong, Hermione?” I asked as Ginny entered the Great Hall.

“Yes,” she snapped. “Harry and Ron nearly got themselves expelled last night. I mean, honestly! How hard is it to send an owl, or at least avoid crashing a flying car into a tree?” I ate more toast, wondering when I would get to officially meet them. Ginny sat down across from me.

“Did you hear about Harry Potter? And Ron?” Ginny said excitedly. Hermione bristled.

“I- yes,” I said. Ginny’s face fell slightly.

“Oh.” She brightened. “But Ron’s really going to get it from Mum!”

Hermione looked up from her book. “I should hope so,” she interjected.

A round-faced boy approached the table and sat down across from Hermione. “Hello, everyone,” he said. “Glad to be back.”

“Nice to see you, Neville,” Hermione said, back to reading her book, which was now propped against the milk jug in front of her.

He turned to me and Ginny. “Are you new?” We nodded in unison. “Welcome to Hogwarts, then.” He reached for the porridge, accidentally knocking over a plate of bacon at the same time. He sighed, fixed the plate, and got himself some porridge.

“Hello, Hermione,” a voice said behind me. I turned. It was the redhead, who must have been Ron, and his black-haired friend, who I knew had to be Harry by the way Ginny was twitching out of the corner of my eye.

“Morning,” she said shortly, eyes glued to her book. The boys looked uneasy, but sat down next to her anyway.

“Hi Harry! Hi Ron!” Neville said happily. “Mail’s due any minute- I think Gran’s sending a few things I forgot.” Ron glanced at Hermione once before quickly filled his plate. Harry followed suit. I forgot to eat as I watched Ginny goggling at Harry.

I was about to start eating more toast when a loud rushing sound erupted over our heads. I looked up to see owl after owl swooping into the room, carrying letters and parcels like the one that had brought me my Hogwarts letter. I sat, staring at the owls, thinking I should write to Mum.

“Errol!” Ron said suddenly, followed shortly by a horrified, “Oh, no…”

I looked down. A thin owl was lying on the table, food scattered around him. I pulled my plate closer to me. “It’s all right, he’s still alive,” Hermione said, touching him softly on the wing.

“It’s not that- it’s that,” Ron exclaimed, pointing to his mail. He held a bright red envelope. For a moment, I thought I saw steam coming out of the sides.

“What’s the matter?” Harry muttered.

“She’s… she’s sent me a Howler,” Ron said softly. Ginny put her hands over her mouth, eyes gleeful. I was going to ask Colin what a Howler was when Neville spoke up.

“Open it,” he said quickly. “It’ll be all over in a few minutes.” He pushed his fingers into his ears and stared at the red letter. Ron gulped and slowly eased the letter open.

An explosion of noise nearly knocked me backwards as the room shook, rattling tables and students alike. Suddenly, the shrieking voice of a woman filled the room. My heart skipped a beat. What was happening? I decided Neville had the right idea and thrust my fingers into my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over a minute later, I opened my eyes cautiously and removed my fingers from my ears.

“Well, I don’t know what you expected, Ron,” Hermione was saying, “but you-”

“Don’t tell me I deserved it,” Ron said angrily. Ginny opened her mouth, but said nothing. She didn’t look gleeful any more, only worried. Hermione looked like she was about to say something when Professor McGonagall approached the table, armed with course schedules. She handed me one of the pieces of paper, which I stared at, memorizing its contents quickly.

“What do you have?” Ginny asked me as we got up. I showed her my schedule. She smiled slightly. We have the same classes. I glanced down the table. Paige was reading hers, while Colleen and May chattered happily. I watched them out of the corner of my eye, with Paige fidgeting and Colleen giggling. Colin was squirming beside me. He must have been excited about something.

“Susan?” Ginny said, clearing her throat. I coughed.

“Right,” I muttered. “I’ve got History of Magic.” Ginny clapped her hands.

“It’s the same with me,” she announced. “You about ready?” I nodded and stood up, nearly elbowing Colin in the face as he leaned as far forward on the table as he could, staring past Hermione at somebody. I didn’t bother to see why. Ginny and I met at the end of the table.

“I suppose we should go collect our books,” I commented. Ginny agreed. We took a step towards the door, when-

“Hello, Susan,” a dreamy voice echoed behind me. I turned slowly.

“Hi Luna,” I hesitated. What would Ginny think of her? Ginny didn’t say anything. “This is, erm, Ginny,” I added. Luna tipped her head to one side.

“Hello, Ginny,” she hummed. Her eyes were slightly glazed over. Ginny crossed her arms.

“What house are you in?” she demanded.

“Ravenclaw. I thought you said you were going to be in Ravenclaw as well, Susan,” Luna observed. I shrugged, examining the floor.

“Well… nice meeting you,” Ginny said awkwardly. “Ready to go, Susan?” I nodded without looking up. I could feel Luna turning her vacant gaze in my direction.

“I’ll see you around, Susan,” she called, walking slowly in a wavy pattern towards her table once more. Ginny tugged on my arm.

“How do you know her?” Ginny questioned.

“I met her in Diagon Alley.”

Ginny made no comment, only pulled me up to Gryffindor Tower.


Our first classes of the year instantly cut off my misgivings. It was school and magic, two things I’d never thought could come together. Here I was, learning, but also playing a game. At least, that’s how it seemed at first. Then I realized that the teachers were serious. This wasn’t a fairy tale, but a reality, one that I’d been ignorant of my entire life so far. How hard it must have been for Mum, not being able to tell me anything for fear of Eric’s reaction. Magic fascinated me. Reading the books had been informative, but Hogwarts was real.

History of Magic seemed to cause many people around me to doze off, being taught by an aged ghost named Professor Binns. However, I liked the class. It allowed me to learn at the same pace as my classmates, many of whom I realized had grown up knowing all about magic. At least in magical history I could be their equal. I took detailed notes, wondering if I would be tested like I had at my old schools.

We had other classes, among them Charms (taught by Professor Flitwick), Transfiguration (taught by Professor McGonagall), Defense Against the Dark Arts (taught by Professor Lockhart�”whom many of the girls in my class goggled over through the entire lesson), Potions (taught by Professor Snape�”a grimy, slick-haired man), Herbology (taught by Professor Sprout), and Astronomy (taught by Professor Sinistra). We moved from class to class, and I found that not only did I like History of Magic, but I was also entranced by Charms.

As we sat down to begin our first night of homework, I pulled out my copy of Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart. After the day's pop quiz, I felt I ought to read some more of our teacher’s books. Ginny disappeared after dropping her bag and shortly returned, carrying a small black book. I looked up. She held a thin black book. Opening it, she lovingly stroked the spine. Pulling out a quill, she rubbed the feather tip across her nose. When she noticed me watching, she stopped.

“What is that?” I quizzed.

“Just a diary of mine,” Ginny defended.

“Who is T. M. Riddle?” I asked, touching the golden letters on the book cover. Ginny went slightly pink.

“I- I don’t know,” Ginny admitted. “When we bought my school books, I just… found this little diary. It’s empty,” she offered, opening it and holding it out for me to see.

I frowned at the book. It didn’t feel right. “You haven’t written anything in it?” I asked quietly. Ginny opened and closed her mouth once.

“Actually, I have,” she muttered, scooting her chair as close as she could to mine. She laid the book gently on the table in front of us.

I flipped to the front of the book. “But it’s empty,” I mused.

“That’s just the thing,” Ginny whispered. “I write in it, and the writing disappears.”

“It just goes away?” I wondered, surprised.

“Yes,” Ginny hesitated. “There’s more. After I write in it, the book�”it responds. To me.”

I looked from Ginny to the book and back again. Ginny staring fiercely at the book.

“How can that be?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Magic,” Ginny declared. “But I haven’t ever seen one of these before. It gives good advice, when I have a problem or something. Let me show you,” Ginny said, at last, and dipped her quill in ink. She wrote the words “Hello, Tom” on the page and waited eagerly. I held my breath.

As if a wet sponge had soaked them up, the wet letters dissolved off of the page. I nearly gasped, but before I could say anything to Ginny, an invisible hand began writing in thin script: “Hello, Ginny.” I scooted closer to the book, trying to block out anyone from looking in from behind.

“That’s… that’s…” I stuttered. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Ginny emphasized. I shut my mouth tightly and nodded, though I didn’t agree.

School continued all week. More and more work had to be done, but I didn’t mind. It was something that I was sure I could do, that I wouldn’t fail at. After all, Mum was a witch, so that meant I was one as well. Ginny I and I worked separately. There were many reasons for that, the most important one being I didn’t want to watch while she went to write in her little diary. However, I felt there was nothing I could do.

On the Wednesday of our first week of school, I was to have my first Astronomy lesson at night. However, I lost Ginny to her diary when we ought to have left, so I went alone, against my better judgment. Unsurprisingly, I soon find myself in a dark corridor that I had never seen before. I kept walking, thinking eventually I would come to something I recognized. I began to get very nervous. Though I had seen pictures moving before, I still didn’t like all of the portraits on the walls staring after me as I stumbled past them.

I had just gotten scared enough to attempt to turn back, I bumped into somebody in the semi-darkness. “Ouch!” I yelped, bumping into the wall in my haste to get back on track.

“Ah, sorry!” the person muttered. It was a boy, but I didn’t know anything besides that. “Lumos.” I looked up, clutching my bag. It was Harry Potter.

“Are you okay?” he asked kindly. I nodded, unable to remove my gaze from his face.

“I’m… lost,” I managed at last.

“First Astronomy lesson?”

I nodded.

“I thought so.” He paused. “Do you need help finding your way?”

“Y-yes,” I stammered. “I tried to find my way alone, because Ginny wasn’t ready to go,” I said breathlessly, trying to explain myself.

“Ginny? Ginny Weasley?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” I said, bewildered. Then I remembered that Ginny’s brother was one of Harry Potter’s best friends.

“Well, that’s not important. She’ll probably be there when we get there,” Harry decided. “You ready?”

“Sure. I’m going to be so late,” I moaned, wondering why I was talking so much to a boy I didn’t know. I usually mumbled something unintelligible and went on my way. Harry didn’t seem to notice, though, and began walking.

“It’s really not far from the Gryffindor common room,” he explained. He knew I was in Gryffindor. That meant he’d noticed me before. “But since you got so far off track-” I blushed. “-it’ll take a bit longer to get there. But don’t worry.” I followed him, jogging to keep up with him as he walked quickly in the direction we’d set off in.

Harry Potter led me through a series of corridors, many of which ended up backtracking my earlier wanderings. As we mounted multiple flights of stairs, he pointed out landmarks to help me find my way next time. “That there’s the Sleeping Wizard,” he said at one point, gesturing to an old painting of a man snoring quietly. “He never wakes up.” He led me around a corner and walked over to the foot of a ladder. “Climb up there and open the door you’ll find. You should be with your class then.” We lapsed into an awkward silence.

“Thanks,” I blurted out, clutching my books nervously.

“Any time,” he said. “I’m glad to be of use. I’ll see you around, I guess.” I nodded. He smiled briefly, and left me at our promised destination.


“Class dismissed,” Professor Sinistra announced, shooing us back into the castle. Ginny ran after me.

“What happened?” she hissed as everyone filed into the little room.

“I got lost,” I said shortly, climbing down the ladder.

“You were twenty minutes late, but you came with Harry Potter,” she commented, in awe of my misadventures. “How’d you manage that?”

“I didn’t mean to get lost!” I exclaimed crossly.

“Sorry,” Ginny said quickly. “I was just- excited. How come he didn’t bring you all the way up?”

“Maybe he wanted to go to bed?” I suggested half-heartedly.

“Well, of course-” Ginny persisted, “but Harry Potter…”

I yawned as we met the Fat Lady. “Wattlebird.” The painting swung open and we clambered inside.

“Well, what do you know?” a cool voice exclaimed from behind us. “Looks like Weasley’s got her selection all picked out.” Ginny whirled to face Colleen.

“What are you on about?” she demanded. May snickered.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that you seem very preoccupied with Harry Potter, that’s all,” Colleen hinted, grinning sweetly.

“Stop it, Colleen,” Paige muttered from behind us. I turned. Colleen fumed.

“Listen, Paige, just because we’ve both gotten into Hogwarts doesn’t mean I want you following me around,” Colleen snapped.

“Who said I was following you?” Paige retorted. “We are cousins, you know.” May looked uncomfortable.

“Cousins?” Ginny asked innocently. Colleen turned on her.

“What’s it matter?” she objected.

“I was just wondering why you were ordering her around this morning, that’s all,” Ginny responded, frowning. I shuddered uncomfortably. What did it matter if Colleen and Paige were cousins? If they kept going like this, we would all be in trouble.

“Shouldn’t… shouldn’t we go to bed?” I pleaded, sending Ginny a look.

“That sounds fine,” Colleen sniffed. “Come on May.” They pushed past us to enter the dormitory. Ginny stood, rooted angrily to the spot.

“Who does she think she is?” she growled, moving after them to go to bed as well. I noticed Paige moving dejectedly towards the room.

“Hi,” I said shyly. She looked up at me quickly.

“Don’t mind Colleen,” she grunted. “Her parents spoil her, that’s all.” I shrugged.

“It’s okay,” I muttered.

“I’m really tired,” Paige yawned.

“Me, too,” I mumbled. We walked in silence into our dormitory. The other girls were already in their beds. Colleen and May were whispering to each other in the darkness.

“Night,” I said to no one in particular.

“Good night,” Ginny responded quietly. Paige nodded and jerked open her trunk. I turned to mine. Misty meowed from my bed as I changed quickly and crawled in with her. I closed me eyes, eager to get as much sleep as possible. I began to doze off.

“Good night,” Paige whispered. A moment later, I was far away, dreaming of stars in the night sky.


Overjoyed as I was to be attending Hogwarts, I was somewhat relieved when the weekend rolled around. Mum sent me a letter, causing a slight pang of guilt to surface in my stomach since I hadn’t written right away. I unfolded it at breakfast on Saturday morning, wondering how she was doing without me.

Dear Susan,

Congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor! I’m very proud of you. Minerva McGonagall, the head of your house, sent me a note. I hope you like school. Melinda sends her regards.

I went home. Your father wasn’t there, and he didn’t leave a note. Everything is fine at the moment. I miss you. You must write me the moment you get this and tell me all about your first week of school! I love you very much. Take care of Misty.

-Mum

I was disappointed to realize after reading the note three times that Mum hadn’t mentioned what house she had been in. But I didn’t let it bother me too much. Ginny dragged me outside to sit by the Lake, which her brothers had told her was the best place to hang out. I insisted that we bring our homework and get it done while we were down there, and Ginny gave in.

“What’ve you got down for our Charms homework?” Ginny asked as I flipped through our Transfiguration text book.

“Well, I’ve only written this much so far,” I confided, passing her my parchment.

“Hang on,” Ginny exclaimed. “I’ve only got a third of that so far. How do you have so much down?” I blinked in surprise.

“Well, Professor Flitwick explained it all in class yesterday�””

“I know that. But you’ve already explained almost half of what we learned!”

I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I mumbled.

“Only that you are very good at this. This homework,” Ginny commented, pronouncing the work “homework” with a hint of venom.

“I can help you out if you want,” I said anxiously, wondering when we would stop talking about me. Ginny waved her hand.

“It doesn’t matter. I just need a little break from my work, that’s all,” Ginny explained. I nodded and retrieved my piece of parchment. Dipping my quill in ink once more, I continued my writing. However, after a few seconds, I stopped once again and stared at Ginny, who was pulling out her little diary again. I opened my mouth to say something, but Ginny was too absorbed in writing something down that I decided to stay quiet. Tearing my eyes away from the diary and pushing away my uneasy feelings, I dipped my quill in ink once more.


A/N: Those of you that are still reading: thank you so much for doing so! Please review!

Dear Mum,

School, school, school. It's incredible! This place is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. But I love it; truly, I do. I’m sorry you could never tell me about it until now.

I don’t think I’ll ever leave magic behind. It’s so… well, magical. I can’t tell you how much I love it. I can charm everything, and there is so much to read in the Library. Madam Pince is a bit sharp with the students, but I don’t mind. She’s been working her for ages and knows loads!

I meant to ask you before, but what house were you in? Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? I’ve already ruled out Slytherin.

And don’t worry about Misty.

Love, Susan


Dear Susan,

I’m glad you like school! I enjoyed it as well, though it was somewhat different for me, since I knew about magic growing up. Interestingly, I wasn’t in Gryffindor, but in Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout is a nice woman. She’s still there, I presume. Let me tell you, however, that I am proud of you no matter what house you are in.

I’m thinking I shouldn’t stay in Hastings. There isn’t much for me here, and I’ve so missed the wizarding world. Melinda has offered her flat to me, of course, but I think it’s best I get a job to support us. I’m going to start looking very soon, but don’t you worry. Everything is going to be fine.

Love, Mum


I folded up her letter with a sigh. Not worry? How could I not worry? I decided to stop thinking about it before I became confused. Ginny sighed next to me, moodily slurping up porridge. A frown had been embedded on her face for the past few days. “Is something wrong?” I asked tentatively.

“I’m… not sure,” she admitted, slumping in her seat. Her hair was messy, and little bags had formed under her eyes.

“Alright, Weasley?” Colleen noted as she passed our seats in the Great Hall.

“Fine,” Ginny mumbled. I was immediately concerned. Usually, if Colleen addressed her, Ginny would come up with a retort.

“Are you sick? You don’t look so good,” I observed. Ginny shrugged. “Maybe you should go to the hospital wing.”

“I don’t know,” Ginny said, rubbing her neck.

“I think you should,” I insisted.

“Well… okay,” Ginny sighed. “You’re probably right; that’s all it is.” I didn’t understand what she meant by that, but got up without saying anything. Ginny climbed out of her seat.

“I’ll take you,” I voiced. Ginny stumbled after me as I picked my way through the students around us.


Once I was certain that Madam Pomfrey would see to Ginny, I left the hospital wing, thankful that it was the weekend once more so that Ginny wouldn’t miss any classes. Thinking I might get started on my homework, I walked into a bright courtyard and rubbed my arms against the cool air. It was mid October and I had forgotten to wear a cloak.

Giggling erupted around the corner and was magnified suddenly as Colleen and May burst out of a little archway. They ran across the cobblestones, wild hair flying and a streaming cloak flying like a banner behind them. Neither of them noticed me watching. They dashed through a door and shut it quickly, muffling their squeals of delight.

Luna Lovegood glided softly through the archway, looking around in a confused torpor. Her eyes settled on me and she drifted over to me, waving slowly. “Hello, Susan Sholt.”

“Hello Luna,” I said nervously, beginning to understand whose cloak that had been.

“Have you seen my cloak?” she asked. I froze. Colleen and May were no doubt listening on the other side of the door to my right. They knew it was me; Luna had said my name already. What could I do? If I said yes, they would be angry with me and I would regret it later. Still, if I said no, they would be satisfied that they could get away with anything in front of me, and Luna would know. I think she already knew the answer by the strange way she was looking at me. A lump formed in my throat. What to do?

Luna didn’t repeat herself. She didn’t need to.

I felt awful. I didn’t want to make Colleen and May happy, but I didn’t think I could get the words out. I stared at my shoes, wondering why I had been put in Gryffindor if I couldn’t stand up to a couple of mean classmates. It occurred to me then that I wasn’t the one being seriously hurt by this situation: it was Luna. It was her cloak, after all, and she was the one without any friends (I’d heard May reporting as much to Colleen a few days before). It was a test, for me.

I knew then that I had waited too long. Luna gave me one last glance, and floated through the door behind me.


Ginny returned from the hospital wing on Tuesday. She looked better, since the bags had disappeared and some color had returned to her cheeks. However, her eyes often were like to Luna’s, glazed over and distant. During our homework sessions, I often had to shake her shoulder slightly to get her to refocus on the task at hand.

The diary was still with her at all times. She wrote in it constantly. Sometimes, I wondered what she wrote about, since so little had happened since the last time she opened it. I didn’t dare ask her about it, for fear of her being angry with me.

Halloween crept up on us without warning. I found myself looking forward to the feast. I believed it would help Ginny relax and maybe come out of her quieted state. When we entered the great hall, enormous pumpkins greeted us all around, and the warmth and light even made Ginny smile. When we sat down, however, and began to eat, Ginny only stared at her plate without blinking. I ate slowly, watching her. After a while, I poked her.

“Everything okay?” I asked. She nodded, then shook her head.

“I think I’ll go back and rest,” she said, looking preoccupied.

“Do you want me to come? Are you sick again?”

“No, just tired. You stay here and eat.”

She got up and moved sluggishly towards the doors. I watched her go, wondering if I should go after her anyway.

In the end, I decided I was too comfortable to move, and Ginny was just tired. It was mostly wishful thinking, but I convinced myself it wouldn’t matter. Colin Creevy soon engaged me in a short conversation about his camera. He seemed a little put out, looking up and down the table every now and then.

I ate until I thought I might burst. Taking one last sip, I looked up at Albus Dumbledore. He was standing, smiling at his students. Gilderoy Lockhart ran his fingers through his hair artfully, annoying Professor Snape very much. The Great Hall quieted as Dumbledore held up his hand. “After our great feast, go and get some rest. Good night.”

In unison, everyone stood. Yawning contentedly, I followed the crowd through the exit and up the stairs. Paige ended up beside me, and opened her mouth to say something when a hush fell over the crowd once more.

We had all stopped moving. I tried to look through the people in front of me to figure out what was going on, when somebody yelled out, “Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

A hushed phrase spread through the crowd like a forest fire, igniting interest. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.

Teachers moved to the front of the crowd, speaking quietly over the hysteria of Argus Filch, who had howled angrily. “Filch’s cat is dead!” Somebody said. “It’s hanging on the wall!”

“Excuse me,” said Albus Dumbledore, moving through the crowd. I stepped aside, Paige next to me. Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Filch, and a few teachers followed Dumbledore.

“Please go back to your houses,” Professor McGonagall dictated as she followed Filch. The crowd slowly obeyed. Paige paused as we moved through the corridor, looking at the far wall.

“It’s written in blood,” she reported, looking scared. We hurried to Gryffindor Tower, crashing into our dormitory. Ginny wasn’t there. I swayed in the doorway, wondering what to do. May cleared her throat from behind me. I jumped. She had come up quietly. Colleen laughed and May tittered.

Embarrassed at being caught off guard, I dropped myself onto my bed and picked up Misty. She purred, and I calmed.

“What do you think it means?” May wondered as she changed clothes quickly. Colleen shrugged.

“The Chamber of Secrets…” Colleen repeated, crawling into bed.

“Sounds familiar,” I muttered to nobody in particular.

“What did you say?” Colleen interjected sharply.

“It- it sounds familiar,” I sputtered.

“Well, what is it then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know, or don’t want to say?”

“She doesn’t know, Colleen,” Paige exclaimed, having finished changing.

Colleen opened her mouth to reply, but Paige pulled her curtains shut first. I quickly changed clothes and crawled into bed before Colleen decided to bother me.

All was silent for a while. Most of the girls dozed off quickly. However, I couldn’t seem to fall asleep, as tired as I was. Where was Ginny? She had told me she was going to rest, and I had assumed she meant in Gryffindor Tower. Had she gone to the hospital wing? Ginny had told me she wasn’t sick, but maybe she had changed her mind…

The door creaked open, and Ginny moved in. She was wearing a set of robes that were too big for her, and her hair was impossibly tangled. The little diary was locked in her left hand, a quill in her right. I watched her come in. She was shaking slightly. Why was she wearing someone else’s robes? As she changed clothes, I noticed a small feather in her hair.

“Ginny?” I whispered. She stopped pulling back her blankets. “Where… did you go?”

“I don’t know,” she said finally. She slipped into her bed and lay down with a sigh. “I- I can’t remember.”

She fell asleep a moment later, the dairy still in her hand.

A/N: Sorry about the long wait! I've been extremely busy.


Flying lessons arrived the next week. Madam Hooch apologized for not having given us our lessons sooner, but she had been terribly sick after a trip she’d been sent on by Dumbledore. I didn’t believe her, but only watched as she demonstrated how to mount her broom.

“Go ahead, students,” she called over a cold burst of wind. “Get a broom, each of you.”

We followed her instructions and placed a hand over the broom, commanding, “Up!” My broom popped up after a few moments and hit the palm of my hand. I winced. Ginny was holding her broom limply, standing much like Luna often did. I was about to ask her if she’d flown before when Madam Hooch yelled, “Now, mount your brooms!”

I took a deep breath and swung my leg over the broom, wondering if it would take off immediately. Luckily for me, it just hovered where it was, with me sitting on it. I waited, taking measured breaths to calm my nerves. “Grip the handle!” our mentor barked.

I uncertainly arranged my hands in front of me. She walked past Ginny, nodding, and stopped next to me. “Come now, girl, this isn’t a tree you’re holding, it’s a broomstick!” She took my hands and placed them in a different way. I nodded, and she left me alone. I glanced at Ginny.

“Ginny?” I asked.

“Mm?”

“What’s flying like? Is it scary?” I questioned. She turned her head towards me and tipped it to one side.

“It’s easy,” she commented, squinting at something over my shoulder. “I’ve always been flying. My brothers made me play with them.”

“I see,” I said, glad she’d spoken so much. I never thought I’d see the day when I spoke more than her, but for the past few days I’d been putting in most of the conversation, trying to get her out of her sedated state. We lapsed into silence as Madam Hooch continued down the line, correcting her students.

“He’s angry with me,” Ginny said suddenly, this time looking directly at me.

“Who?” I asked, though I had a faint idea.

“Tom,” she reported, nodding her head, then shaking it. “Said he was tired of hearing how Fred and George used to torment me.”

“Well, erm, maybe you should give him a break,” I suggested casually.

“What do you mean?” Ginny demanded, still looking at me.

“Maybe�”you need some time away from each other.”

“I should just leave him? But I talk with him every day!”

“I know�”but maybe right now you should, you know, let him rest a bit.”

Ginny sighed. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

I took a deep breath. If she left the diary for even a little while, maybe I’d have time to take it and hide it, or maybe show it to a Professor. I quailed at the thought of handing my good friend’s diary to Professor McGonagall, but I remembered that the pages were blank. She wouldn’t read anything of Ginny’s unless Tom repeated it. But did I dare steal it at all? I’d never had such thoughts in my head in my entire life.

“Now that you’ve all readied yourselves, listen carefully,” Madam Hooch commanded. Mounting her own broom, she gripped the handle with perfect form. “You must kick off of the ground, and hover a few feet above it. Hold your position, and then lean forward (but not too much) and come back down. When you are landing, put your feet squarely bellow you. That way, you won’t fall over. I’d like to go without any accidents this year.” A couple students snickered down the line.

“Right,” she continued. “On my whistle!” I held my breath, forgetting Tom and focusing entirely on the terror at hand. A shrill blast filled my ears. Biting my lip, I kicked hard off of the ground.

Ginny sailed into the air and hovered nicely. My broom shot past her. I struggled to pull it straight, and succeeded when I was a good fifteen feet above my friend. I attempted to lean forward, but my broom was rigid, stuck in its position. Ginny easily leaned forward and landed. I tried to throw my weight forward a little in an attempt to move the broom in any direction, but it was frozen. Cold air whipped about me. I coughed a little and shivered a lot. The students were all on the ground by now, and looked up at me. Colleen and May giggled a little farther down the line.

“Susan’s got herself stuck!” Colleen tittered as Madam Hooch strode by her, broom in hand. A particularly vicious blast of wind nearly knocked my off. Before I could stop myself, I started hyperventilating.

“Sholt!” barked Madam Hooch. “Lean forward, NOW!”

A few tears breaking loose from my eyes, I thrust my weight downward, only to throw my head on the handle. I gasped, and lost consciousness.


When I awoke, Ginny was looking out of the window behind my bed. Madam Hooch was conversing quietly with another woman, who must have been Madam Pomfrey. Ginny had told me of her a few days into school while she demonstrated her great knowledge of Hogwarts.

“She’s awake,” Ginny called out, noticing my open eyes. I only looked all around, examining the Hospital Wing for the first time. “Are you okay?” she asked me.

“I�”I think so,” I mumbled.

“Good. After you bumped your head, wind was blowing all around you and you started to fall,” Ginny relayed. “Madam Hooch jumped on her broom to catch you, but you stopped falling. In mid-air.” We were both silent.

“I stopped… falling?” I repeated faintly.

“Yes,” Ginny said.

“H-how is that possible?” Ginny shrugged.

“I don’t know. But Madam Hooch told us to go warm up in the Common Room and took you out of your spot in the air and carried you back to the ground. I followed her here. She’s been talking to Madam Pomfrey for the last hour.”

“I’ve been here for an hour?” I cried out. Madam Pomfrey heard me and bustled over.

“Now, dear, you’re too weak to get up, so just stay here, on your bed. I’ll get you a drink.” She turned to Ginny. “You may go now. If there are any other visitors, tell them that they have five minutes.” Ginny nodded and walked out of the room.

Madam Pomfrey handed me a sizzling, clear drink. “This should help you regain your strength in a few hours. Drink it,” she directed. I nodded and took little sips. It was very hot, but tasted like warm air. Madam Pomfrey said good-bye to Madam Hooch and went to attend to another patient who had some potion spilled on him.

When I looked up again, Paige was sitting next to me. “Hello,” she said quietly. I tried to smile. She’d come all the way up to see me!

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Not bad. This drink will help me get better soon.”

Paige smiled. “Glad to hear it. If there’s anything you want, like a book to read, or something, just ask and I’ll get it,” she offered. I smiled wider at her kindness.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I don’t need any-” I stopped speaking. How would I steal Ginny’s diary if I was here? It was a book after all. “Actually,” I admitted, “I could use one certain book. But it isn’t mine.” Paige looked confused. “Listen, I know you won’t like this, but if you could steal Ginny’s little black diary I’d be extremely grateful,” I said in a rush.

Paige raised her eyebrows. “The one she takes everywhere?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where she hides it-”

“But I do. I could steal it for you,” Paige insisted. “Where do you want me to put it? Should I bring it to you?”

“If I had it, I don’t know what I’d do with it,” I mused.

“Well, I know a good hiding place,” Paige confided. I stumbled upon it after Charms one day. She smiled at the memory. “How does that sound?”

“Brilliant,” I whispered. Once again, I wondered why I was speaking so much. I realized I’d been wondering that a lot lately. Maybe it was okay for me to talk as much as I wanted to. This thought encouraged me and I sat up more in my little bed.

“Thank you so much, Paige,” I said graciously.

“Any time,” she said, looking a little embarrassed at her eagerness to help me. “I don’t have anything else to do. Nobody would notice if I went out of the Common Room alone. Nobody does,” she declared bitterly. I sighed.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “How about this�”if you help me, I’ll make sure that you can sit with us and stuff. With me and Ginny. How does that sound?”

“Great,” Paige beamed, clearly glad to have a friend. She set off determinedly.

“Thank you again,” I called out after her. She smiled at me over her shoulder.


That night, I returned to Gryffindor Tower. Paige was reading quietly, and Ginny was staring into the fire a few chairs away. At least she hadn’t torn up the Common Room searching for her diary. Yet.

“Hi,” I said to Paige as I passed. She looked up and grinned. I returned her smile. “Hi, Ginny.” She looked up at me and nodded.

“I’m going to try,” she announced.

“Try what?”

“To give Tom a break.” I beamed.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know�”as long as I can make myself.”

“Ginny, that’s great!” I said, hugging her. She looked suspicious.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with me talking with Tom,” she corrected. I agreed hurriedly. I glanced over my shoulder. Paige looked hopefully at me. I had a promise to fulfill.

“Er, Ginny?”

“Mm?”

“Want to go sit with Paige?”

“Huh?”

“She’s really nice. You’d like her.”

“Sure,” she said after a pause, her mind set on giving Tom a break. I knew what she was thinking: Paige could distract her from Tom. She nodded and followed me over to Paige.


Two weeks later, I was in the Hospital Wing again.

It came up quite suddenly, and I didn’t expect it at all. I woke up coughing in the early hours of the morning and shivered in heat. Misty was under my bed. Smart cat, I thought sadly. She doesn’t want to get sick as well.

I lay awake, coughing hard while desperately trying not to. I didn’t want to wake everyone and be pestered by Colleen. I tossed and turned, dozing off every half an hour only to be jerked awake by more fits. I wondered if I should try and find a drink of water, but I was too tired to get out of bed. My mind wandered over my life, adding to the shudders as I recalled the comfort-shattering fights between Mum and Eric.

Hours later, the other girls began to wake up. Ginny rolled out of bed like she did every morning in her monotonous style. As she shuffled around the room, I dragged my weight out of the tangled sheets and moved unsteadily to my feet. Ginny barely glanced at me, digging for robes in her trunk. The other girls yawned widely. I coughed in return and clutched the bedpost.

I stumbled over to my trunk and removed some robes and shakily tried to pull them on, before I realized that I was still wearing my night gown. Groaning, I pulled at my clothing.

“Are you okay?” Paige asked quietly from behind me. I shook my head, feeling nauseated. I decided against responding, in case I failed to hold down last night’s dinner.

Colleen and May look at me like I was contaminated, which, in a way, I was. It didn’t help my mood, however, and I slumped to the floor, shivering again.

“I think you should go to the hospital wing,” Paige pronounced. She whispered in my ear, “Ginny still hasn’t found the diary. She’s begun to look for it, though.” I nodded and stood as best I could. Paige took my arm and supported me. We walked together, unevenly, past Colleen and May, past everyone.

The castle was cold, since it was late November. School would be let out for our break soon, and I wasn’t sure what I’d do then. Paige led me to Madam Pomfrey, who sat me in a bed and handed me a pot. The moment they turned their backs, I vomited.

Paige was ushered out of the room as Madam Pomfrey Vanished the mess in the pot. “I thought that might happen,” she sniffed. “You’ve come down with something, dear. It’s frightfully cold outside. The wind seems to have picked up suddenly this morning. Maybe your dormitory was drafty?” I shrugged. “Humph. Well, you’ll need to stay here for a little while so I can heal you.” I nodded, keeping my mouth firmly shut.

A few minutes later, a few owls flew into the room. The post had arrived, and an unfamiliar owl found my bed and dropped a letter onto my head. I caught it before it landed in the pot, which was clean for the moment.

The letter was from Mum. I opened it eagerly.

Dear Susan,

Eric finally called me on the telephone yesterday. He said that he’d “come to his senses.” For a moment I thought he had gotten past his nonsensical rage, but then he demanded that I leave “his house” and find somewhere else to stay. He also said that he was coming come that evening and expected me to be gone.

I know this must have a negative effect on you, but please, rest assured that I’ll be fine. Melinda offered her home to me, of course. I’m currently with her in Diagon Alley. However, I realize that I can’t stay here for too long. Melinda’s job in Flourish and Blots can only support me for a short time. She’s offered to start working at Gringotts, where she used to work, but I told her she shouldn’t change her job to help me out. Besides, she hated working there.

I’m hoping to get a job for myself, but there aren’t any available in Diagon Alley. Melinda said she’d look into Hogsmeade for me, which is very close to Hogwarts. If that works out, you might be able to get special permission to visit me on weekends and keep me company. However, I’m not sure that Melinda’s friends at the Three Broomsticks are in need of an inexperienced bartender.

Enough of complicated matters. Your break is coming up, and they’re bound to ask you what you’ll be doing during that time soon enough. When they do, tell them that you’ll be going to stay with your aunt (Melinda). I’ll be here with her. I look forward to spending time with you.

Love, Mum

Angered bubbled under the surface. Eric was an idiot. And Mum had no where to go! What if she couldn’t get the job at the Three Broomsticks? Where would we live? At least I’d be seeing her at Christmas. I shivered in the cold of the morning. Bitterly, I wished the sun would come out.

Before I knew what was happening, the clouds outside of the window behind me parted slightly to reveal a blazing sun. Snow fell softly against it as I leaned backwards to stare outside. That was most unusual. A bit of warmth filled my skin and I relaxed, content to be warm.

A/N: I realize that I haven't posted a chapter in forever. Well, see, I missed the pre-holiday deadline, and then I was out of town. So I have excuses. But I am terribly sorry to have kept everyone waiting.


I practically threw myself off of the train at King’s Cross Station, having seen Mum’s face out the window. Misty growled unhappily as I was pulled into many hugs, several of which came from Melinda. I was so glad to see them that a smile remained plastered on my face for some time.

We rode in a regular old taxi to the Leaky Cauldron. Mum and Melinda were as thick as thieves. I envied them a little. Though Ginny had improved, she’d begun to wonder where her little diary had gotten to. I chose to ignore her complaints and went about my own business.

The Leaky Cauldron was decorated with ivy and holly all around. Candles flickered pleasantly inside the windows against the white snow on the other side of the glass. As we entered, warmth enveloped me. I was given a Butterbeer and escorted cheerfully back to Melinda’s flat, where Misty was happy to curl up on a chair by the fire.

After we had settled down, Mum and Melinda exchanged their stories for mine. It started out with what had been happening for the past few months, but soon, we had exhausted that subject. Thus, we turned to stories of our childhood.

Mum smiled and gasped, “Remember, Melinda�”that time in my second year?”

Melinda frowned. “Which one?”

“The time where I left my purse on the train!”

“Oh, yes. I remember.” Melinda grinned. “You were horribly upset. I couldn’t make you eat anything. And that boy, he kept coming over to poke you, and Lily just shoved him away… Lily was so nice to you…”

Mum’s eyes were glassy. “She was in your year, but she always paid attention to me. I must have been such a nuisance, following you around like that…”

“No, no, no. I might have snapped at you now and then, but really, I didn’t much mind�””

“Who is Lily?” I asked, poking Mum’s arm. She blinked.

“She was Melinda’s good friend. Lily Evans. She went on to marry that very boy who pestered your mother.”

“Was he mean?” I questioned, wondering why she married him if she liked to shove him.

“Well, not really. He just liked to play pranks on people that were sometimes hurtful. Usually, they were harmless, but you know�””

“Oh!” Mum squealed. “Remember when he filled his cauldron with ink during my fourth year?”

Melinda rolled her eyes. “Yes. We were sixth years, and James (the boy who married Lily) got his friend Peter to steal everyone’s ink bottles. Poor Peter must have nearly died carrying it out, for fear of being caught.” She lapsed into silence.

“I think Sirius was in detention at the time,” Mum said quietly. “Just goes to show you�””

“Oh, hush, Mary. Sirius was such a nice person.”

“He was, Melinda. Was.”

“Maybe that family madness just finally caught up with him, that’s all.”

“Apparently. I mean, murdering 13 Muggles and his close friend is a bit much.”

“Mary!”

“What?”

Melinda placed her cool hand on my head. “Do you really want to talk about murder at a time like this? It’s Christmas!”

Mary sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” she allowed. Melinda nodded. However, a moment later, she pointed her finger at Auntie and added, “But you know that these things usually catch on later in life.”

“What things?” Melinda demanded.

“Madness. Insanity,” Mum supplied.

“Oh really? And where’s the book that told you that?”

“Our mother did, Melinda,” Mum said. She folded her arms across her chest. Melinda didn’t remove her hand from my head. “When you came home that summer after my second year, you talked constantly about Sirius Black. Maybe you were oblivious to Mum’s contempt, but I wasn’t. She specifically said to stay away from people like him, even if he was a Gryffindor.” Melinda’s hand seemed to be suddenly heavier.

“Did she?” She asked quietly. Mum shrugged.

“Something like that, anyway. That’s why she was so upset when you came home the next summer.”

“I think you just didn’t know him well enough,” Melinda decided, removing her hand at last and clutching her other hand in her lap. “He was a- a nice boy, who maybe got into a little trouble sometimes�”” Mum laughed. “Okay. So maybe he was constantly in trouble, but when he was with me I saw a different side of him. A gentlemanly side, not a mad one.”

Mum struggled to keep a straight face. “So he didn’t foam at the mouth while he kissed you?”

Melinda swatted Mum’s arm. “You! Of all the little sisters!” They laughed together, I grinned, too. I’d never really known much about Mum and Melinda’s lives at Hogwarts. Apparently Melinda had known the Potters, who were clearly Harry’s parents. I wondered if they knew the Weasleys. When I endeavored to ask, Mum shook her head.

“They were years above us. Nice people, though, from what our Mum told us about wizarding families,” Melinda explained. “Now… who’s up for a walk?”


Later that evening, we settled around the kitchen table with hot chocolate. I sipped mine carefully. Mum took larger gulps. I watched, wondering how she could manage to drink the scalding liquid. “Susan,” Melinda piped up after a while. “How much has mother told you about her plans?”

“You have plans?” I blinked. Mum had failed to mention this in her letters. Mum shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes. I was able to get a temporary job at the Three Broomsticks. Melinda helped me,” Mum hesitated. “But nothing’s settled yet.”

“But you’ve gotten a job,” insisted Melinda.

“That’s fantastic! And it’s right near Hogwarts, in Hogsmeade,” I added thoughtfully.

“You’d be right near her,” Melinda chided. I frowned. They’d obviously been arguing about this for some time now. Mum seemed even more uncomfortable. Sipping her hot chocolate quickly, she did not respond.

“Has she found a place to stay as well?” I asked Melinda.

“Oh yes. There’s a lovely little cottage on the border of the town. It’s right near some hills, yet it’s still right by town.”

“It sounds nice.”

“I’d bet my favorite hat,” Melinda said loudly, “that Dumbledore would allow her special permission to visit you on weekends, Mary.” Mary waved away her sister’s comment.

“I don’t doubt it, but I haven’t worked in ages. Bartending is not exactly the best job out there, especially for me. I’d much rather work in gardening,” Mum relayed.

“Really? Then once you’ve gotten yourself a bit of money and you no longer feel guilty about asking for help from me you may open a shop of your own. It could be right in your front yard, if you like. I’d advertise for you.”

“Galloping gargoyles, Melinda! You never give up, do you?” Mum exclaimed.

I laughed. They turned their heads to look at me. I buried my face in my mug.

“What’s so funny, Susan?” Melinda demanded, setting down her hot chocolate.

“Nothing�”it’s just I’ve never heard somebody say that before�””

Mum rolled her eyes. “Such a Muggle-like thing to say, Susan. Remember, you’re a witch now.” I took a big swallow of my warm drink and nodded, a silly smile still on my lips.


Over the next few days, Melinda, Mum, and I spent much time worrying about nothing. Occasionally, my aunt would attempt to bring up the subject of Mum moving in to the Hogsmeade cottage. Mum repeatedly dodged the conversation, sometimes falling silent until we let it go for the moment.

Eventually, as we sat on a bench outside Gringotts one morning, Melinda tried a new tactic.

She pretended to examine the snow at her feet at first, saying nothing. Reaching over to touch my scarf, she cleared her throat. “This is one of my favorites,” she commented. “How do you like it, Susan?”

“It’s�”it’s nice, Auntie,” I stammered, wondering why she asked.

“Mary, don’t you agree?”

Mum looked up slightly. “Yes. I always liked the color blue, and the pattern is very wintry.”

Melinda smirked. “Do you know how much it cost me?”

Mum blanched. “Several galleons most likely.”

“Several more than you’re thinking of, I’d imagine.”

With a slight shrug, Mum took the scarf off of my shoulders. “Well then, Susan, you mustn’t hurt it, understand?”

I nodded silently, but did not reach for the scarf.

“Just pretend for a moment that it was hopelessly ruined, and it was all your fault. How would you pay for such a thing?”

“Well, I might get a loan…”

“And put yourself in debt?”

“That’s not what I mean in the least. I’d pay them off right away.”

“Where would you get the money to do that? Before you answer, think ahead a few months. When this next summer is over, you’ll need to buy Susan her supplies. Where will you get the money for that? Suppose you get sick. Suppose I am unable to help you out financially when the time comes. What’ll you do then, Mary?”

“I’d get it from a job,” Mum replied. “It’ll be one of my choosing.”

Melinda tapped her foot on the ground. “You’re being impossible, you know. You can’t work in the job of your choice until you can support yourself. I know it’s been a while, but you haven’t even thought it through! Besides, you still need to see the cottage I’ve found.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a picture,” Mum grumbled. I stood up, feeling unusually confident.

“Then let’s go,” I said forcefully. “Right now. I’ve finished all of my work, and we’ve still got a few days left before I return to Hogwarts.”

Melinda beamed and stood next to me. “Come on, Mary. One look won’t kill you.”

With a sigh, Mum stood. “I give up. It better have a nice garden…”



Since first years were not allowed to go on Hogsmeade visits, this was my first time in the little village. It was quaint, with only a few small streets, one of which led to the Shrieking Shack. There were dozens of cozy little cottages, many of which held small shops as well as living quarters. Melinda made sure to point out the Three Broomsticks and remark on how much business it got. A woman named Madam Rosmerta owned it, according to her. She’d owned it for quite some time and was very successful. Mum folded her arms across her chest and reminded Auntie that she’d been there several times and knew what it was like. To this, Melinda winked and led the way down another street.

The street was lined with cottages, each with its own character. One had a curvy chimney; another had twelve birdhouses in the front yard. A cottage farther down the road was made of pink brick walls. Melinda led us past all of these, coming to a stop in front of a wooden one in the shadow of a larger, yellow-stoned cottage. It had several rows of what appeared to be lumps of snow. Mum nearly jumped for joy as she realized that the mounds were flower beds. Herbology had been her favorite class, and she always had a garden growing back in Hastings.

“So… what do you think?” Melinda quipped, prodding Mum.

“It’s darling,” Mum breathed, walking up to the frosted window. “Can we go inside?”

“Yes,” said Melinda. “Come on. I’ve got the key.”

A few minutes later, we were walking through a snug hallway paneled in a soft, light wood. I peeked into the little rooms. A small kitchen with a hearth greeted me on one side; on the other was a cramped dining room. There seemed to be two bedrooms, each with just enough room for a bed and chest or desk. On the end was a small bathroom. Looking out the window, Mum spied a snowed in shed ten yards from the house at the base of some rocky hills. The cottage was near the end of the road, where the hills began. There was a small fence between the house we stood in and the one next door. It looked as though it needed repair.

Mum seemed to have changed her mind about the cottage. “Oh, it’s perfect for us, Susan! It’s near Hogwarts, it has a garden, and it’s small. I bet it doesn’t cost too much either. How much is it, Melinda?”

Melinda whispered the number in Mum’s ear. I decided that I was happier not knowing. Mum gulped slightly, but quickly regained her happy face. “I can manage. Some time working at the Three Broomsticks should fix that. And thank you, Melinda. I am really grateful. Where would I be without you?”

Melinda laughed. “No where I want to be. Come on, let’s go home. We’ll buy you the house and finalize your job the moment Susan is back at Hogwarts.”

Returning to Hogwarts was like greeting an old friend. Ironically, Ginny had stayed at school in my absence and found her diary. Paige told me first; apparently, Ginny had torn up the dormitory searching for it. Paige had been afraid that she’d find it in her original hiding place, so she’d moved it to behind a tapestry in the common room where it was close at hand. Unfortunately, May found it. Colleen had gone away. According to Paige, she’d been on holiday in Germany when May found the diary. Without her friend to respond to, May held on to the diary for three days, until Ginny spied her carrying it to breakfast one day.

“She caused quite a mess in the Great Hall,” Paige confided. “May was looking at the blank pages and running her finger over the cover when Ginny looked up from her porridge. It was awful. Ginny shrieked and lunged for it. Before May could protest, she’d run from the room, carrying the diary.”

“Well, I suppose we did our best,” I said tiredly. “Let me guess: she’s been writing in it not-stop?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve tried distracting her. She even wrote in it for hours on Christmas. It’s a little disturbing,” Paige pronounced, glancing around. Colleen was chatting up a storm with May about her trip. From what I heard of their conversation, she’d seen some very old tapestries that had bored her to death in an old castle.

I spotted Ginny entering the common room a moment later. The diary was in her left hand; in her right, she carried a black quill. I sighed.

“Hello, Susan,” she said, her face lighting up slightly. “Look! I’ve found my diary!”

I nodded, exasperated. “Paige told me.”

“I see,” she said, her smile still lingering. Her delight was apparent. For a moment, I considered grabbing the diary and running. However, I quickly rejected this idea. Ginny ran twice as fast as I did when she wanted to.

“Let’s sit by the fire,” Paige suggested, ending our awkward silence. I nodded and followed her to some soft armchairs.

Once we were seated, Ginny leaned towards me eagerly. “So,” she began, sucking in her cheeks. “Any more weird events?”

I frowned. “Like what?”

“Like floating in mid-air?” Ginny supplied. Paige poked her. “Ouch! I’m just curious.”

“Er�”I don’t think so,” I replied honestly. “I mean, I haven’t noticed anything like that.”

“Did you tell your mum?” Paige questioned.

“No. I didn’t think of it.”

“Maybe you should have,” Ginny mused. “It might run in your family.”

This hadn’t occurred to me. Maybe it was an actual skill that I’d inherited. “It’s possible,” I said doubtfully.

“Next time you write to her, ask,” Paige put in. “It can’t hurt.”


Classes resumed suddenly, as if there had been no pause in their occurrence. I happily forgot about my weird talent, content to study facts once more. Nevertheless, the issue was forced back into my mind when Mum wrote me her first letter in the new year.

Dear Susan,

Melinda has been a great help, as usual, and has settled everything. I’m scheduled to move into our new home in twelve days. Can you believe it? We’ll finally be back on our feet as a family again. My job at the Three Broomsticks starts the very next day.

I’ve not heard from Eric. If you’re still worried about him, I can safely tell you to stop doing so. He doesn’t seem to want to contact either of us. But, in case he does, let us agree immediately to inform each other if the need arises. Still, I’m not concerned about him at the moment.

I’m sorry I don’t have time to write you a longer letter; I’m busy obtaining furniture for the cottage. It has a name you know: Pagshot’s Nest. We can call it the Nest, since it is no longer the property of Mr. Pagshot. I hope you are as excited as I am about the move.

Love,
Mum

Paige put down her bowl of porridge. “Let’s see it,” she said. I handed it over wordlessly.

I noticed that Ginny was not holding her diary. “Have you lost it again? Your diary, I mean,” I asked.

Ginny shook her head. “It’s my new plan. You see, I think May stole it, or else she knows who did. Now, instead of carrying it around when everyone can see it, I’m keeping it hidden with my school books.” She nodded, pleased with herself. I stared at my hands, which shook slightly. If she only knew who really stole it, she’d have a cow.

A small crease was growing steadily as Paige read about Eric. I realized then that I’d never said very much about him. Fearfully, I stared at the back of the soft role of parchment. Ginny, who was sitting next to Paige, leaned to the left to see better what was written there.

“So you’ve bought a cottage?” Paige said at last.

I shrugged. “My aunt found it for us. We�”we had to move out from our old home.”

“Can I read it now?” Ginny insisted. Paige tossed it to her. Ginny caught it, but ripped the bottom accidently.

“Oh!” I cried. It wasn’t an important letter, but I felt a thick sadness bubbling up in my throat nevertheless. Ginny stared at the rip, looking timid.

“I’m sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean for it to rip.”

“I know,” I mumbled. I reached for my letter. “C-can I have it?” Ginny thrust it into my hand.

“I can repair it,” Paige offered. I shook my head.

“No magic in the corridors. Or the Great Hall,” I added. Tenderly, I ran my finger over the rip, which was around three inches long. However, I jerked my hand away a moment later. Ginny gasped and Paige dropped her toast.

A thin white light had run along the length of the tear. As it went, the parchment seemed to sew itself together. In a few seconds, it was over. The parchment was remade as if Ginny had never been handed the letter.

“You did it again,” she whispered.

“How did you do it?” Paige demanded. “What were you thinking at that moment?”

“I don’t think she can control it,” Ginny said slowly.

I shook my head. “You’re right. I can’t. It just happened.”

“Well, now’s your chance to write and ask your mum,” Paige reminded us.

“Yeah,” agreed Ginny. “I’m full anyway, and we still have a few minutes until we have to go to class.”


At first, I could not think of what to say to mum. Starting out with something is terribly wrong with me just didn’t seem right. On the other hand, it was just plain difficult to explain what had been happening to me. I ended up writing a normal letter that went something like this:

Dear Mum,

It’s great to be back at school. Misty doesn’t seem any worse for wear after our trip. I think she’s gotten used to being in the castle by now.

I haven’t much time to write, either. As soon as you move in, could you ask Dumbledore if I can visit you? And what are we going to do about all our things that are still at Eric’s house in Hastings?

Love,
Susan

I showed my letter to Paige and Ginny. Ginny accused me of putting off asking her. I defended myself by saying that I wanted to ask her in person. Paige only shrugged and said that if I didn’t feel like writing it down then I shouldn’t have to. I silently thanked her. As we set off for our first class of the day, I shoved my letter into my bag to owl Mum later.

I scribbled furiously, attempting to keep up with Professor Binns’ lecture. He, however, did not seem aware of the class he was teaching. Ginny had her nose buried in her diary. I’d attempted a few days before to get her to take actual notes in it, but she said she couldn’t because the notes would just disappear. We’d been back in school for a whole week by then, and I was ready to give up and let Ginny have her way.

Professor Binns had his back to us as he spoke. “See, class, the war had been arguably on schedule for several years. Tension was building up, and nobody was doing anything to lessen it. Witches and wizards had long been divided. The founding of Hogwarts School was somewhat of the stretch, and the four founders knew it; still, they, like the various parties involved with the war, remained stubborn. It is interesting. Some wizard historians have noticed a slight pattern in major wars in our time. Since the forming of Magic, most notably the Great Divide, wars have occurred systematically. However, most historians have been led to believe that the pattern has long since broken, seeing as the war of the Dark Lord arrived much too early to fall within the lines of the pattern.”

I stopped writing. The words “Great Divide” had reminded me of something in the back of my mind. I raised my hand, hoping to recall what it was.

“Oh, yes, Ms. Shalf?”

“Sir, I seem to have lost track of something,” I said timidly.

“Would you prefer that I repeat what I told you just now?”

“No. I was wondering if you might talk more about the Great Divide,” I hesitated.

“Ah. The Great Divide. I was just about to say more on that matter… One moment, Ms. Silth.” Binns floated through his desk briefly to obtain a fourth piece of chalk. May, who was sitting in the first row, had been sleeping. She woke with a start as our teacher neared her desk and began to write. Binns took no notice of her.

“When Magic was first formed, it was given out to a select few men and women. They had no wands, but received their power from a magical grove. However, after several hundred people had gained power, its magic faded permanently. Those who received the power were then set apart from the rest of humans. Many of them spoke a language that has been lost over the years. It was called Chirmin (pronounced Kur-mun, children). Interestingly, they dubbed their non-magical neighbors ‘Muckles.’ Over time, the word was adapted into English in the form ‘Muggle,’ thus creating the informal term for non-magical people. However, this was only part of the Great Divide, for this schism had two parts. The first divided magic from non-magic. The second was much more complicated.

“The Ministry of Magic did not exist yet, but a Council of Magic was held annually for some time. After a few years, some wizards began noticing that if they were not careful, magic could be contaminated and lost to the ‘Muckles’ that they were separated from. They suggested putting tabs on them and controlling them. A few of the more outspoken people went as far as suggesting confining them to one continent. However, they were strongly opposed by the majority of the group. When they recognized that they were not likely to win their case, they withdrew and formed their own group. The Chirmin word they gave themselves was the ‘Pureas,’ or Pure Ones. They did not send representatives to the annual Councils of Magic, causing the beginnings of a rift between the groups. Through stealth, they converted more wizards to their cause.

“If not for one specific event, the two groups might have destroyed each other completely. However, the First Prophecy was given. Wizards had been constantly creating spells and writing recipes for potions, but the first Seer had yet to emerge until then. Fortunately, when the Prophecy was given, the receiver recognized its significance and spread the word. Its original message has been lost, but we do know that it warned wizards that unity was vital to survival, and, if they were not careful, all of magic would be obliterated permanently. It was as if they were being tested.

“The Pureas decided it was in their best interest to adhere to the First Prophecy, as it was known, and return to the Council of Magic. Still, they had spent much time in seclusion, devising their own spells. The Council demanded that they reveal all of their secrets, a few were kept hidden by the Pureas. They claimed that they had a right to uphold their own systems. The spells they kept hidden were ‘Adevnea,’ or forbidden. The Adevnea were guarded with utmost care.

“However, the Council was enraged by the very idea of Adevnea. They threatened the Pureas, but to no avail. They would not hear of surrendering their secrets. Eventually, they took their enemies by force and brought them to the grove from which all magic had begun. There, they cut down all of the trees but the three that stood in the middle. They then built wands to harness the magic. One wise member convinced the Council to give everyone wands, creating a dimension of equality. However, he suggested that a few witches or wizards be left without wands, so that they could wield power much greater than any other and lead all wizardkind.

“The Pureas demanded that they have a say in this matter. Eventually, it was agreed that only one be put in each generation. They were not necessarily descendants, but ones that could carry the weight of the power. Thus, the position of ‘Protessa,’ or Protector, was started, even thought they had administered wands to every witch and wizard.

“The Adevnea were still kept secret. Eventually, the Pureas broke away entirely from the rest of the magical world. This, my students, is the second part of the Great Divide. They are given one name because they happened within 12 years of each other, early in the history of magic. Tension built, and eventually came to an open war. Each side now had its own spells, all of which were executed through wands, except for those of the Protector. Luckily, she was against the Pureas. Without her, the Pureas would have won. They almost did, since the Protector had not yet been found. It was a terrible dilemma. Everyone had the First Prophecy to worry about, and they had difficulty finding the first Protector. It took them six months. The war had almost been lost to the Pureas when she was found.

“Obviously, it was not lost, because magic still exists today. I might add that most every wizard who has heard of the First Prophecy calls it foolishness. There are a few that believe in it, however. Albus Dumbledore is one. But back to this war that we’ve been discussing since the beginning of class: both sides were stubborn and would not succumb to each other. They were led by a great warrior on each side. The warrior of the Council was called the ‘Laeo.’ The warrior of the Pureas was called the ‘Asherpen.’ They fought each other while the war was fought separately, each of them possessing a small portion of the qualities of the Protector. She focused mostly on helping the Laeo via the mysterious bond they are said to have had.

“The outcome of this individual battle is not known; the Pureas lost, but if the Asherpen and Laeo survived, we do not know. There are legends of their deaths and lives, none of which are likely to be true. My students, I would like to remind you to trust in fact. It is vital that you do. Now, when the war had�”Ah, Professor Dumbledore. How may I assist you?”

Everyone turned to look at the door. Dumbledore stood there, twiddling his thumbs. He’d obviously been there for quite a while, waiting for Binns to notice him. I realized I had been so mesmerized by Binns’ lesson that I’d forgotten to take notes. I sighed and looked at Ginny. Her parchment had five words on it: “Magic and the Great Divide.” I sighed again. I hoped I could remember it all later.

Nobody else seemed to have paid much attention except for me. That wasn’t unusual though. Now, however, their attention was all focused on Dumbledore.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I wondered if I might speak to Susan Sholt?”

I flinched.

“Why, yes�”go right ahead, Ms. Tolk.”

Sweeping my things into my bag, I stood up quickly. Dumbledore waited patiently as I moved toward the door. Once we were in the hall, he shut the door. He looked at me for several long moments without blinking. At last he put his hand on my shoulder. “Would you please follow me? I’d like to see you in my office if you are not too busy.”

I wondered why he was asking if I was too busy, since he’d already pulled me out of class. Instead of pointing this out, I shook my head.

“Good. This way.”

A/N: Sorry about the wait. Second semester has begun and life is difficult...


Dumbledore led me to his office in silence. After he spoke the password, the large gargoyles guarding the entrance jumped aside. I thought for a moment one of them blinked at me, but I put the thought aside as I marveled at the staircase. It spiraled upwards. Dumbledore and I stepped onto it as it curved upwards. At the top, there was a large door. We entered the small room.

The first thing I saw was a large, brightly colored bird sitting on a perch off to one side. The second thing I saw was my mother.

“Mum!” I shrieked, running to her. “What are you doing here?”

Mum shrugged. “I’m here to speak with Dumbledore to arrange your Hogsmeade visits.”

Dumbledore let us hug briefly, then slowly moved to his chair behind his desk. I stood by Mum, my hand on her shoulder. Dumbledore fixed his gaze on me. I twitched, but held my ground. I would stand firmly. I was a Gryffindor.

“I trust you found your way here easily?” Dumbledore asked my mother, his eyes still on me.

“Of course,” Mum laughed. She did not notice his searching gaze.

“Well,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “Now that we’re all here, I believe Susan has something to tell us.”

I was taken aback. How could he know about the strange things that had been happening to me?

“What’s this, Susan?” Mum asked, looking up at me. I withdrew my hand from her shoulder and took a step away from them. Dumbledore stood up.

“It’s quite alright, Susan, I assure you,” I murmured. “Sit, and I will explain. Then it will be your turn.” I nodded shortly and sat next to Mum, who eyed me warily.

“Your classmate, Paige, came to me a few days ago. She expressed concerns that strange events seem to be occurring around you. Madam Hooch informed me of your hovering on the Quidditch field-”

“Hovering?” exclaimed Mum.

Dumbledore held up a hand. “Yes. Quite explicitly hovering. Susan was experiencing broom trouble. I believe you fell off, is that it?” He nodded to me.

I managed a tiny, “Yes.”

“And as she was falling, she apparently stopped in mid-air, several feet above the ground.”

It was Mum’s turn to leap to her feet. “Was she okay? Did Madam Pomfrey see to her?”

Dumbledore assured her that she most certainly did. “Now, Susan, before we continue, I feel obliged to say that you must remember that you are in no circumstances in trouble. Paige made it very clear that you had no control over all of this. She also mentioned that other events have happened since then. I was hoping you could describe them to me?”

As he spoke, I felt strong resentment toward Paige. However, when he had finished, my anger had left me. I spoke up. “Well, there have been times when I won’t mean for things to happen. I’ll only want for it, and it’ll be done. At breakfast the other day, Mum’s letter was accidentally ripped, but when I held it, it�”it fixed itself. I don’t know how.”

“Paige mentioned a few other things,” Dumbledore added.

I frowned. “I can’t think of anything else.”

“Perhaps you did not notice? Paige seemed to recall your quill dipping itself in ink for you, as well as your book opening itself.”

I was startled by this. “It did? I just thought I’d done it without thinking and noticing. Opening the book, I mean.”

Dumbledore smiled wryly. “Yes. The mind does tend to attempt to justify things it does not understand with a familiar explanation.”

“But Headmaster, what does this all mean?” Mum insisted.

There was a pause. “Susan, why don’t you step outside for a moment? I should like to speak to your mother.”

I stared back and forth between them for a moment. Mum glanced at me. I backed out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

I was immediately reminded of that day, back at the house in Hastings. Mum had spoken to Eric while I stood, paralyzed, in the kitchen. Once again, I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

“Please,” Mum was begging. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Nor do I, Mary,” Dumbledore answered. I heard the sound of his chair being pushed back. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor. I felt guilty, eavesdropping like that, but I could not force myself away from the door.

“I can tell you very little without going into a long explanation,” he continued. “I must warn you immediately that this puts Susan in a very, shall we say, awkward position.”

“How so?”

“There is potential for great danger, Mary. I have noticed recent events that seem to indicate a great battle.”

“Is it one that picks up where the last left off?”

“Yes. But this one is different, very different.”

“I hope it is a short one, for all our sakes.”

“If I am correct�”and I dearly hope I am not�”it will not be short, but drawn out. Suffering awaits every wizard that lives today. No good can come out of it, unless this war is different than the one from over a decade ago.”

“How will it be different? Will we be stronger this time?” Mum speculated.

I heard Dumbledore sigh. “I should hope so. However, it looks as though our enemies will also have gained strength, perhaps taking a leaf out of their ancestor’s book.”

“Their ancestors?”

“Yes. I fear the results greatly, Mary. But there is no need to frighten everyone before it is time. Soon enough, we will be forced to cast aside our protective shield and face what we are sure to be up against. For the time being, let life go on. I am just letting you know this because Susan may soon be caught up in more than she can handle.”

“What would you propose, sir?”

“That is what I do not know. I need time to ponder it. Just be aware, the conclusion I come to may not be one you favor. But for now, I’d like to inform you that Susan has free clearance to visit Hogsmeade any weekend she likes to visit you.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Delighted, I’m sure. Shall we call Susan in?”

“Yes. I’ll get her.”

She approached the door as I scrambled a few feet away. As she pushed it open, wearing a fixed smile, I tried to look bored with standing on the landing.

“Won’t you come in?”

“Yes, Mum.” We walked inside.

“I’ve just told your mother that you have been given permission by me and your House Head to visit your mother any time on the weekends that you’d like. I am trusting you not abuse this privilege.

“I think that will be all. Have a nice day, Mary,” Dumbledore added.

“Thank you. I must go now. Madam Rosmerta will wonder what’s been taking me so long,” Mum mentioned.

I threw my arms around her.

“I’ll see you this weekend, darling,” she said gently. I nodded and excused myself from Dumbledore’s office. I had a lot to think about.

A/N: Sorry about the wait. I've been busy... Excuses, excuses, I know.


I put Dumbledore from my mind as the next few weeks flew by. Ginny became shifty around me. I hadn’t told her what had gone on in the Headmaster’s office, so I assumed that was why she was behaving strangely. However, it did not explain her conversation with Paige on evening by the fire.

Paige shut her book heavily and stretched her arms out beside her. “You know what I wish?”

“What do you wish?” I said simply.

“That Colin was sitting here with us right now,” she replied with a sigh.

Ginny dropped her quill and scrambled to get it.

“Why Colin? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him very much lately,” I mused.

“Well, you know he’s-”

“Paige,” Ginny hissed.

I frowned. Paige rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded. Ginny waved her hand at me.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” she inserted quickly. I sat back in my chair, deciding not to argue, but wondering why Ginny refused to talk about Colin. I’d heard his name whispered occasionally for the past several weeks, but I turned a deaf ear, assuming it was meaningless gossip.

However, I dropped the subject as it was late and I needed rest for my Herbology quiz the next day.


I did not predict that I would run into Harry again in the next week. However, I once again found myself indebted to him. Once again, I found myself lost. This time, it had to do with school work.

I was trying to write a short essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I found myself horribly confused, since Professor Lockhart had wandered so far from the subject material that day in class that I had made no progress in half an hour. Before I could stop myself, I let out a squeal of frustration and bent over to lay my head on the table.

“Are you… okay?” he asked. I hadn’t heard him come over. Sitting up suddenly, my hair whipped around and grazed his chin. Horrified, I began apologizing profusely.

“I’m fine, seriously,” he said, looking embarrassed. “Are you having trouble with your work?”

“Yes,” I admitted. I glared at my empty sheet of parchment. “It’s for Professor Lockhart. I’m afraid�”I, er, lost track of his lecture today.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Did he go on about his excellent job helping sick children in Hungary?”

I nodded.

“Well, maybe I can help. We had a different teacher last year,” he said. His eyes glazed over for one second, but he quickly recovered.

“Thank you,” I said. I explained how we were supposed to be learning about a certain type of bird with dangerous claws.

“Hang on, I think I remember that. Are they the ones that are often used to hunt down invisible creatures?” he exclaimed.

“That sounds about right…”

Harry began spewing little bits of information he remembered about them. I scribbled as much as I could down on my piece of parchment. “You really should ask Hermione, though,” Harry commented. “She remembers everything.”

“Thanks for your help,” I said shyly. He grinned and strode away. I barely noticed people whispering as he passed.


That night, Ginny couldn’t do her work. I tried to prompt her and give her some of the information that Harry had given me (as well as some of the facts Hermione had told me afterwards), but she couldn’t seem to concentrate. She kept jumping up and going to sit at a different table.

Paige eventually got tired of relocating herself and her papers, so I was left to follow Ginny as she wandered. After moving back to a few armchairs near the entrance to the girls’ dormitory, I refused to sit. “What is going on, Ginny? You’ve never been this distracted before,” I mumbled.

She threw up her hands. “I don’t even know. I just can’t keep Tom out of my head.”

“Tom from the diary, you mean?”

“Of course! How many Toms do we know?”

“Well, what did he do to make you so bothered?”

“He sort of�”was short with me. I can’t really explain it,” Ginny said irritably.

“That’s not very descriptive…”

“Does it matter? Anyway, I feel like he doesn’t really care about the things I’ve been telling him. I mean, he’s supposed to be a diary. You’d think he’d listen to me.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t seem right. Are you sure he’s just part of a normal diary?”

“Well, what else could it be?”

I sat next to her mutely. What else was there to say?

“I am so sick of him telling me that I’m a silly girl,” Ginny spat. “He doesn’t listen to me any more.”

“Maybe it’s time you got a new diary,” I suggested hopefully.

To my surprise, Ginny agreed. “Maybe,” she repeated. When she didn’t say any more, I turned to my homework to let her consider this. I feared she’d drop the idea if I pushed her too much. I could just see it: Ginny, normal and healthy-looking again. We could talk about Harry Potter and Charms homework. There would be no more watching her wake up looking haggard and staying that way all day long. There would be no more strange silences or boring times where Ginny did nothing but scribble in her diary. I was very much looking forward to it.

Ginny jumped to her feet after a while. I followed her with my eyes as she disappeared into our dormitory, only to emerge a minute later, clutching the diary. Her jaw was set as she strode out of the common room. I dropped my homework and hurried out the portrait hole after her.

Before I knew it, we were marching into the haunted bathroom that nobody ever uses. Ginny looked back at me as she stopped in front of the stall that was out of order. I smiled encouragingly. She took a deep breath, and threw the little book with all her might into the air. A little shriek escaped her lips. For some reason, I didn’t jump or flinch like I used to. I even smiled slightly as Ginny panted. We left victoriously, ignoring the quiet sobs that had begun to waft out of the girls’ toilet.


The conversation from Dumbledore’s office came back into the front of my mind the next day. I’d forgotten about it almost entirely, what with Ginny’s triumph. She was looking much better the next morning when we went to eat breakfast. However, I still was stirred by what Dumbledore had said. In order to preserve Ginny’s somewhat fragile new state, I decided to tell Paige what I knew.

Her eyes widened when I explained that I was in great danger, possibly. For a moment, she couldn’t think of anything to say. Then, “Merlin… that can’t be good.”

I shook my head unhappily. Danger was for brave adventurers who readily faced it. I didn’t want to be in danger. Mum knew that, too. She had sounded so scared when she asked Dumbledore what it all meant. Paige and I paced around our room. Misty swatted her tail back and forth, poised on the bed as if she were ready to pounce.

“I guess there isn’t much we can do,” Paige remarked.

“I can’t think of anything. It’s all so strange,” I mumbled.

“Definitely. I don’t think Dumbledore expected you to understand. That’s why he had you stand outside.”

“But you would think he’d know I heard what he said…”

“Maybe. But nobody’s perfect, though Dumbledore is a great wizard.”

“Right,” I said. I recalled him mentioning war, one that would continue the past war from over a decade ago. That could only mean the one involving You-Know-Who. I’d read about him, naturally. And I’d heard plenty of talk from the other students.

“Dumbledore will fix it all,” Paige said confidently.

I shrugged and sat next to Misty, who purred softly when I ran my hand over her fur.


A/N: GUESS WHAT! Only about five more chapters left in this story. Yes, five! Around five, anyway. Then, there'll be a sequel. You can guess what it's about from the last few chapters of this fic (which aren't posted yet, you'll see), so I would greatly appreciate title suggestions at the moment! And... I lovereviewers...

A week later, I found myself in the library, looking up a book for History of Magic. Paige was with me, but she seemed distracted as we walked through the shelves of books. I knew that if I said nothing, she’d continue to fidget. I stopped and turned to her.

“What is it, Paige?” I asked calmly. She probably had misplaced or quill or something, I thought. I was wrong.

“There are some things that- that people haven’t been telling you,” she said jerkily.

I tipped my head to one side. “Like what?”

She looked slightly uncomfortable, but drew me deeper into the rows of shelves. “Colin. Remember Colin?”

“Of course I remember Colin,” I replied, looking at her as if she were mad.

“Well, he was attacked. A while ago,” she said shortly.

My eyes widened. “Attacked? Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“There’s been gossip, but you were too busy worrying about Ginny to notice,” Paige explained.

“But why didn’t anybody tell me?”

Paige shuffled her feet slightly. “Ginny- she sort of kept us quiet. She didn’t like us talking about it in front of you. Or at all, really.”

“She didn’t want me to know?” I was so surprised, my feet were frozen in place. “But how did you find out?”

“I listen,” Paige said exasperatedly. “I don’t ignore what people whisper about!”

“But when a student is attacked, it’s usually a big deal.”

“It was. It is! But Ginny just didn’t mention it around you, and she stopped us from doing the same.”

I was silent. Why wouldn’t Ginny want me to know about Colin? Colin was my friend! I’d met him on the Lake at my first day at Hogwarts. Maybe she thought I’d get ideas about it. I mean, I hadn’t forgotten when Ginny had disappeared on Halloween. And there had been times when I’d felt like Ginny was hiding something. That hadn’t been the only night when she’d seemed somehow not herself.

It all came back to that diary. She always seemed in a sort of stupor when she had written in it for a long time. She’d told me that Tom responded to her. Tom was the diary. Or was he in the diary? The difference seemed clearer to me now. I was suddenly even gladder she had discarded the diary.

“There’s more,” Paige said suddenly. “Some other people were attacked. Petrified somehow, but no trace of a spell on them… They’re all in the hospital wing, waiting for an antidote.”

I could find no reply to this. Forgetting the book I needed, I left the library quickly.


I found Ginny very quickly. She was sitting near the fire, in the same place we often sat together to do our homework. I folded my arms and observed her from the other side of the room, trying to decide how to approach her. Her face had more color in it. I hadn’t really noticed how pale she’d been prior to her release of the diary.

Gathering my courage, I stalked over to her seat, not really knowing what I was going to say to her. “Hello, Ginny,” I said coldly.

She didn’t look up from the book she was reading. “Hello, Susan,” she responded.

I walked around in front of her so that we were facing each other. I tapped my foot, my arms still crossed, until she looked up. Her eyes were innocent.

“Something you want to say?” she asked, not entirely noticing my agitation.

“Yes, actually,” I exploded. “Why didn’t you want me to know what happened to Colin?”

She didn’t move. “I didn’t think it was important,” she relayed.

“Don’t lie to me,” I retorted. “Why?”

She frowned at me. “I thought you’d make it into a big deal. It looks like I was right.”

“It is a big deal, Ginny,” I blurted out. “Don’t you see? Students were attacked! And you seem to feel odd about it. Did Tom say something to you?”

“Susan, please! You’re making a big deal out nothing.”

“Colin being petrified in the Hospital Wing is not nothing!”

The third years at the table behind us sniffed angrily and left to study somewhere else. I lowered my voice. “I just want to know why you didn’t want me to know.”

Ginny wasn’t listening. Her eyes were wide as she stared over my shoulder at somebody across the room. I turned quickly and spotted Harry. He had just climbed into the portrait hole, carrying Ginny’s diary.


Paige went to bed early that night. Ginny and I sat in a tense silence in our dormitory. I tried to think of the upcoming Easter holidays, but Tom Riddle’s diary and Colin’s absence occupied my mind. There was nothing I could do to forget for even thirty seconds about Harry holding Riddle’s diary.

Ginny started pacing. May and Colleen watched her skeptically. I wanted to tell them to go away. Ginny was plotting something, and I didn’t like it. I took Paige into the common room and explained what had happened. She shook her head. “Ginny is getting bad ideas in her head right now, I know it,” she muttered. “We have to stop her.”

However, Ginny did not attempt anything or sneak off anywhere over the next week. She spent a lot of time thinking and making no noise, though, and seemed almost as distant as she had been when she was writing fulltime in her diary. This left Paige and me lots of time to think as well. However, we not only worried about Ginny; we also thought about Dumbledore’s conversation with Mum and poor Colin and the other victims.


It wasn’t long before Ginny left the Great Hall early one night during dinner. It was a Saturday night, so both Paige and I knew that she didn’t have any tests to get last-minute studying done for. We knew something was up and resolved to go after her. However, we ran into Luna Lovegood in the hallway.

“Hello, Susan,” she said, smiling simply at me. She skipped over and patted my shoulder. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been, er, fine,” I mumbled, still feeling bad about not standing up for her that time when Colleen stole her cloak. I avoided her eyes. She glanced about airily.

“That’s nice,” she said, nodding. “Oh! I must show you something. My father just printed an article that you are going to love. I have a copy of it right here.” She slipped a magazine titled The Quibbler out of her pocket, placing her wand behind her ear. “It’s right here in the front. Look!”

I didn’t want to be rude, so I skimmed the article. It was about a dog that had telepathic powers. I found myself becoming more and more annoyed as it went on about all the ridiculous things it had told its owner through the connection in their minds. Paige tugged my sleeve after a minute and we hastily said our good-byes.

We ran up to Gryffindor Tower but could not find Ginny right away. She wasn’t in our dorm room or the common room. I realized with a lump in my throat that she was in the boys’ dormitory. Paige and I exchanged horrified looks as we slowly climbed the stairs to the second years’ room.

The door was slightly ajar. I peeked in, spying papers and clothing on the ground. My eyes wide, I pushed open the door to find Ginny digging through Harry’s things. She’d already gone through his books and bed and was now tearing through his trunk.

“Ginny!” Paige cried. “Stop it!”

“It’s in here, I know it,” Ginny said vehemently. “I’ll find it! I have to!”

“Please, Ginny, don’t do this!” I said, watching as she threw the contents of Harry’s trunk all around the room.

But it was too late. Ginny had already found the diary.

Paige and I avoided Ginny to the best of our ability over the next few days. This meant spending less time outside and more in the library with Hermione, who was studying endlessly. From what I could tell, only half of her work was class-related. When I asked her what she was researching and if she needed any help, she turned down my offer very quickly.

“No, I’ve got it under control,” she said quickly. However, a minute later, she broke down and began to rant about her classmates.

“It’s absurd! They have no reason to expect Harry Potter of all people to be the Heir of Slytherin!”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Hermione stared at me. “Haven’t you heard the talk?”

I shrugged.

“She doesn’t pay attention to those things,” Paige inserted. I shot her a look.

“Well,” Hermione said irritably, “after all of the attacks on the students, there have been rumors everywhere about who did it. And of course you remember the blood on the wall… you were there, right?”

“I was,” I muttered.

“There you go. Anyway, people have been crazy all over school; after all of the problems at the Dueling Club, everyone seems to think it was Harry! I just don’t understand it. I mean, so what if he can speak Parseltongue? That doesn’t automatically make him a dark wizard…” She trailed off, sounding doubtful.

“Of course he isn’t a dark wizard,” Paige piped up. “He’s the boy who lived!”

“I know,” Hermione said, her head in her hands. “But this whole issue has gotten blown out of proportion!”

“Colin’s in the hospital wing!” I said angrily. “It doesn’t need to be blown out of proportion; it’s a big deal!”

Hermione glanced at me. “I understand that he was your friend, but still. People could at least try being calm about things for once.”

“Maybe we should all be glad that it wasn’t us who’s lying in the hospital wing,” Paige said neutrally. She yawned. “You two can stay here, but I’m going to bed.”


Dear Susan,

Thank you for your letter! I would love to have you come see me. All you have to do is tell Dumbledore that you’re coming. I’ve missed you, but I understand that you’ve been a busy girl with little time for visiting your mother. In any case, send a response on the owl telling me when and how long you’re coming for. Of course, the Easter holidays are also coming up. I bet you’re looking forward to that.

Love,
Mum

P.S. How is Ginny doing? And Paige?


Dear Mum,

I asked Dumbledore and he said it would be fine if I spent Sunday in Hogsmeade with you. He also mentioned that I would have to finish all of my homework first, but I think he was joking. He probably knows that homework takes me little time and I’ve not too much else to do.

Paige is fine. We had a Herbology test today, but I remembered what you told me that time in the garden all those years ago about seeds; it helped a lot. As for Ginny, I don’t really know how she’s doing, to be honest. I haven’t talked to her that recently.

Love,
Susan


“And these ones here�”what do you think?”

I squinted at the small, purple buds. “They’re nice, I but I like the first ones better.”

“The yellow ones, you mean?” Mum asked, waving her hand over her shoulder at the flowers a few rows behind us.

“Yes. They’re more… cheery, I guess,” I mumbled, not finding a good reason as to why I liked the yellow ones. They just felt right to me.

“Then I shall have to plant more of them over here. Do you want to do that now, or do you want to sit around and do nothing for a while? I remember enjoying that when I was a little older than you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t we get to work?”

She smiled at me happily. I knew how much she loved gardening. “A valid question, darling,” she mentioned, standing quickly and making her way through the rows of plants. Some of them preened or reached for her as she passed. Mum always had a green thumb.

I squatted by the purple ones, digging my heels in the soft dirt and examining the purple flowers in front of me. They weren’t yet in full bloom, but I admired them as they were. Maybe I liked them more than the yellow ones after all. Unable to decide, I frowned and glanced over my shoulder. The yellow ones displayed their delicate petals upward, opening to the sun. The purple ones seemed almost wilted next to them.

“Susan? Would you help me find the seeds, please?” Mum called.

I trotted into her little shack. Hooks covered both walls, seeming to hold more space than I would have imagined could fit in a shed of that size. Mum was running her hands over countless small brown pouches, one or two hanging on each hook.

“You’ve bought all of these already?” I wondered, amazed.

“Well, the man at the store seemed keen on helping me out, so he gave me a few extra seeds. Said they were special and that I’d like them, and I couldn’t help taking them,” Mum admitted. “Besides, I can probably sell the plants. Or maybe Professor Sprout will want them. I hear she’s your Herbology teacher.”

“Yes. She wasn’t always there?”

“Goodness, no!” Mum exclaimed. “I had a very airy witch named Professor Duncan for my teacher. I liked her, but she never really spoke to any of us. She was always looking at her plants, or her diagrams of her plants. Why, I remember the times when…”

“When what?” I asked, reaching for a pouch at my eyelevel.

“My sister, Melinda, used to tell me about all the times she was the victim of James Potter and Sirius Black. I’ve mentioned them before, haven’t I?” Mum laughed to herself. “And�”ah! Here they are. This pouch, here. It has the little threaded drawing on it here, see? It’ll be a nice plant some day. This one’s called Croceucerin. It has a sort of juice in it that can be used for many potions. In a small dose, it’s great for a calming spell or tea. But if you put in too much you might faint or hallucinate. I’ll make some tea with it when it’s fully grown and you can taste it.”

I nodded, not really listening to her babble on about plants. I was more interested at running my eyes over the various drawings.

Mum pulled me back outside. I picked up her digging tools as she extracted a few seeds and rolled them into her palm. She prodded them as we made our way to a fresh row of dirt.

“What was I saying, Susan?” she asked.

“Er, something about your Herbology teacher and your sister?” I offered.

“That’s right,” Mum sighed. “Poor Professor Duncan used to come into class to find that all of her diagrams were encrypted in some sort of nonsense code. We’d laugh if we couldn’t help it, and she’d try all sorts of spells. Of course, none of them worked. Most of her magic helped her with plants. I rarely saw her use a wand… Those boys! To think Melinda liked them at all…”

“Why did she?” I demanded. They didn’t sound very likable, bothering their teachers like that.

“They were always entertaining to be around,” Mum explained. “Sirius may have been a bit wild and reckless�”I remember him that way. I wish he stayed that way. Nearly killed poor Melinda, to lose so many friends like that…” She trailed off, kneeling in the dirt.

We sat in silence, Mum fingering her seeds as I set the tools on the earth to wait until we’d want to use them.

“And Remus. He was always a nice boy, I remember,” Mum said quietly. “I never knew him that well. He’s out there somewhere. I hope. I wonder how he handled losing all of his friends to fate…”

I glanced at her. She was running the pads of her fingers back and forth over the thin, round seeds of the Croceucerin plant. She blinked hard once, shutting her palm. “Well,” she sighed. “No use wasting all our lives wondering. Let’s get to work.”

I’d never cared much for Quidditch after my bout with the broomstick on the first day of lessons. I’d gotten an exempt afterwards, thanks to the unusual circumstances that everyone seemed so excited about. I didn’t mind doing homework instead of flying, as my body shuddered involuntarily whenever I had to touch a broom.

However, it was nice out that weekend, and Gryffindor was playing Hufflepuff. Paige liked Quidditch. At least, she liked watching the players. She was always interested in watching people, especially the ones she felt strongly about, for ill or no. I agreed to come down to the game that morning, though I made Paige promise me she would let me close my eyes if I began to feel sick.

I set my book down on the table next to me with a sigh and stood up. Paige rocked back and forth on her toes as I slowly gathered up my cloak. She giggled. “You won’t need that. It’s warm out, you know.”

I shrugged and dropped it on my bed. Paige clapped her hands. “Let’s go, all right? The match won’t wait for us to begin.”

We walked to the dormitory door and stepped outside. Ginny was three feet away, clutching her diary and staring at the wall. The door closed with a snap, startling her.

“Hello, Ginny,” I said stiffly, feeling I should say something. She didn’t acknowledge me, only stared through me at the door behind us. Her eyes were glazed over. Paige tugged my sleeve. I knew something was wrong with Ginny, but I allowed myself to be pulled past her into the common room.

“Do you suppose she’s been writing in that diary too much lately?” Paige muttered as soon as we exited the Portrait Hole.

“Have fun at Quidditch, dear!” the Fat Lady called. We paid her no heed and quickened our pace slightly, reminded of our destination.

“She looked horrible,” I admitted. “Her eyes were icier than usual. That’s bad; it must be.” I glanced at Paige. “However, I’m not going to talk to her about it. That’s her problem.”

Paige made an angry noise. “Come on, Susan. She is, er, was… she’s your friend. You should be trying to help her when she’s in trouble in a time like this. That’s what friends do.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not mad at her,” I objected.

“That was ages ago. That was the first word you’ve spoken to Ginny in at least a week, if not more! Doesn’t that mean something to you?” Paige demanded.

“It’s not like she wasn’t lying to me and keeping things from me,” I persisted. “She made sure I didn’t know about Colin for months! Everybody but me must have known about it.”

“That may be, but she probably had a good reason for it,” Paige said. “If you’d only ask, she might tell you.”

“She doesn’t seem to be in the best state to talk right now, to be honest,” I commented. “We both saw her.”

“Have you heard anything I said?”

“All of it.”

“But do you understand what I’m saying?”

“It’s rubbish. She needs to be the one to say she’s sorry.”

“Oh, Susan, please�””

We stopped at the foot of the stairs. The lawn stretched out before us. Interestingly, everyone seemed to be moving towards us, rather than towards the Quidditch field. I glanced at Paige. She was frowning and scanning the crowd.

“What’s going on?” I murmured.

“They’re all coming back. Look, there’s the Hufflepuff team. The game must be called off today.”

“Why? The weather isn’t bad.”

“There must be another reason…”

People were chattering worriedly, swarming past us in thick groups. I turned to follow them, but Paige grabbed my arm. “Do you think something bad has happened?” she said wildly.

I didn’t reply, but removed my arm from her grip and dashed inside. Things didn’t feel right. The air was heavy with something unnatural. The pressure weighed on my lungs as I darted through the crowd and back to the common room, where I ran to the window and looked out towards the Quidditch field.

The last of the students and teachers were streaming out of the stands towards the doors. Nobody seemed to be panicking. I collapsed in a near by chair as the Gryffindor house filled into the room, the noise mounting until the room was filled with students. It pounded in my ears, making me want to push them away. I shut my eyes and held my breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I was beginning to succeed when somebody tapped my shoulder.

I stood up so quickly that I nearly tripped over somebody’s abandoned cloak lying on the ground in front of me. I whirled to face whoever was behind me. It was Professor McGonagall. Her face showed a hint of worry as she bid me follow her away from the room.

I followed her, my legs working mechanically as she led me down stairs, through corridors, and past hallways. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself sitting in Dumbledore’s office. Again.

Dumbledore was waiting patiently behind his desk. Professor McGonagall left immediately to return to the common room. She needed to tell the rest of the Gryffindor house what was going on. I didn’t watch her go, but sat in the chair by the great desk, looking at my feet.

“I’m sorry to bring you here,” Dumbledore began quietly, “but whoever is attacking students has struck again. Hermione Granger is currently lying in the Hospital Wing.”

I did not move. Hermione? The Hospital Wing? It made no sense.

“How?”

“If I knew, this problem would already be solved.”

I looked up, but did not look at Dumbledore. I suddenly felt very tired.

“This can come to no good, Susan. We all know that. Unfortunately, this matter is now considered out of hand.” He paused. “There have been enough attacks for me to worry for your safety, as well as the other muggle-born students at Hogwarts. However, I’m particularly concerned for you.”

I didn’t need to ask any questions. I knew he’d tell me what he wanted to say in time.

“You are a unique girl. You seem to have a quality that most magical people do not posses. I’m not sure what to say, other than it is important that you are kept safe from this kind of disaster. Do you follow me?”

“Yes, Headmaster.”

“Good. I’ve recently received mail from a woman. She lives quite a ways north from here, but you and she share certain qualities. That’s why I sent her and owl, asking if she was ready to take on an apprentice.”

I blinked several times. The bookcase I was staring at was still in focus, though I was not really seeing it. Why did I need to become an apprentice? What about school? Mum? Paige? Misty?

“If your mother would consent, I would have you go. Nonetheless, it is not my choice to make. Are you willing to leave Hogwarts for a while? I can’t tell you how long it would be, but it could be for quite some time. Susan, what are you thinking right now?”

I flinched. “I was wondering how I could leave my studies off for so long.”

Dumbledore smiled grimly. “I can safely say that is the least of your worries.”

“What about Mum?” I faltered.

“You’d stay in touch, naturally… Miss Sholt, I must confess that though I value your opinion, it is desirable for you to agree to my terms. Your safety is important to me, and your friends as well. That’s why we’re doing this. At the same time, the woman you’d be apprenticed to would be able to help you with your gifts that we are unable to explore here at Hogwarts.”

I could not bring myself to look into his eyes. There was not a choice after all. He’d only said that to make me feel better. I felt a streak of resentment towards the old man sitting before me. How many times would I be uprooted for the sake of magic? Was it really worth it? He was managing me like any other student. Was I really valuable enough to be sent away? If I was, I didn’t feel ready for it.

But I nodded, for lack of words as well as a lack of options.


A/N: I have finished writing A Fresh Start! There are a total of 22 chapters and a prologue, so 2 more come after this one. Then it's done! Naturally, a sequel will come in time, though I have to take a break from writing about Susan for some time. Please forgive me; after all the chapters are up, check back in a couple weeks and there'll be a sequel up! And... PLEASE REVIEW.

I didn’t move. My body no longer had enough strength to move the chair I sat in. Even sliding backwards a few inches seemed to require the force of ten men. So I sat, waiting, moving only to breath.

Dumbledore’s office was calm when it was empty. The portraits of old men and women on the walls (none of whom I recognized) gazed at me, moving occasionally and making me want to fidget. But I didn’t fidget because I didn’t have the energy.

I’m not sure what it was that made me feel that way. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t speaking to Ginny. Maybe it was that Hermione was in the hospital wing. Or maybe it was because Dumbledore had left me alone in his office after telling me that I would have to be moved again.

I hated making changes, especially ones that changed every variable of my life as this one would. I could tell. Dumbledore told me I’d come back, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be for a long time, perhaps years. I’d be far up north with some older witch who I’d never met. He hadn’t said Mum could visit, only keep in touch. Was my safety so important that I had to be isolated from the rest of the world?

I could not conceive any reason why I could be so valuable. Sure, strange things often happened to me and went without explanation. I was an attentive learner, but why was I more valuable than anyone else at Hogwarts? I was small and shy. It was still a mystery to me why I hadn’t been placed in Hufflepuff like Mum. It seemed like Hufflepuff would be the right place for me, where people are kind and good and take care of each other. But there I was, being taken care of without knowing how or why.

The office seemed to be very large without Dumbledore in it. Its ceiling stretched high above me, but I did not move my head to look at it. That required effort and movement, neither of which I could provide at that time. The walls and shelves full of books and instruments seemed miles away from my position. I breathed deeply, trying to calculate their distance from me.

Dumbledore left me nearly half an hour ago. I hadn’t moved since then. There was no need to. I’d been told, “Wait here. I have a few errands to attend to. I will return shortly.” I did just what he said. I waited. I didn’t do anything but wait for him.

An empty golden bird perch caught my eye for the first time in half an hour. It drew my gaze to it by its bright color, though I had to strain my eyes to see it from the angle I was sitting without turning my head. It swung back and forth slowly as if an invisible animal sat on its width, watching me.

If Misty were there, she’d have eaten the imaginary bird. If Mum were there, she’d have told me there was nothing to worry about. I’d have nodded in agreement. Mum was most always right about those things.

But something told me that I wasn’t entirely wrong. There may not have been a bird there then, but I could tell that at one point, there had been.

Though I was completely relaxed and very tired, I did not fall asleep. I was existing, waiting for Dumbledore to come back. Waiting. Tick tock. I didn’t see a clock anywhere; it must have been my mind ticking. The steady rush of breath in and out of my lungs kept me awake as I waited. Waiting.

I heard him before I saw him. My ears heard the steps like thunder in the hills. They’d been used to silence for so long that I could almost hear him breathe. Because of this, I could tell he was not unaccompanied. Two other sets of feet and rushes of breath followed his heavy, distinct sounds.

The door opened easily. Dumbledore entered, followed by a somewhat less glassy-eyed Ginny and an uneasy Paige. They had clearly been informed of the attack on Hermione.

“I see you did as I asked,” Dumbledore observed. I watched him sit behind his desk. Ginny and Paige stood on either side of him. Paige glanced at me. I did not attempt to catch her eye.

“Headmaster? What are we here for?” Paige asked tentatively.

Dumbledore patted her arm. “You’re here to say good-bye to your friend Susan.”

Ginny awoke from her stupor. “She’s leaving?” she sputtered. Life seemed to have flown back into her veins as quickly as it had left mine. My head throbbed dully.

“Yes. I have decided that she needs to be kept safe from the matters here at Hogwarts that I cannot control,” Dumbledore said simply. “She’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

This news shook my consciousness. Tomorrow. The finality of the word shattered my feelingless mind. I sat bolt upright.

“Tomorrow?” I choked.

Dumbledore eyed me. His eyes were soft. “You’ll be staying with your mother for a few days while I arrange the final touches with Taryn.”

“Who is she?” Paige asked.

“The woman Susan will be going to live with,” Dumbledore replied casually.

“For how long?” Ginny asked. She seemed as awake as I was.

“That is uncertain, Ginevra. But it will be for quite some time. That’s why I’ve brought you and Paige here.”

I stood up. Paige walked to my side. Her jaw was clenched shut. Ginny cast a long look. I returned it, trying to look as forgiving as possible. If I was leaving, I wanted to have her remember me as a good friend, even if we hadn’t been on speaking terms towards the end. Then I realized that all of our little spats hadn’t mattered as much as I thought they had. I’d held a grudge. Paige was right. Ginny needed me and I’d failed to support her.

Ginny walked around the table to join me. I took her hand and squeezed it slightly.

“So, what now?” I asked Dumbledore, resigned to take my fate as best I could.

“There is a spell I will be performing on you, Susan,” Dumbledore explained. “It will put an illusion so great on you that people will think you have not left, but will not notice your presence either. Of course, you will not be here; you’ll be up North. But I thought it best, due to the circumstances, that very few people knew of your true whereabouts. Ginevra and Paige are here so that they will remember you.”

“And Mum?” I wondered aloud.

“She already knows. She’s getting the house ready for you to stay in for a few days.”

I took a deep breath. Dumbledore smiled. “I know this is difficult, but you will understand in time. Now, it is best you said your good-byes now, before the spell is cast.”

I nodded, turning to Paige. Her eyes shone as she tried to smile at me. I’d been her only friend when her own cousin had turned her back. She’d helped me when Ginny needed support. It occurred to me then that we had a great friendship between us. It was one I hadn’t really thought about or questioned. She broke off my chain of thoughts by pulling me into a hug. “Write,” she whispered. I smiled. My eyes felt wet as I turned to Ginny, who immediately pulled me into a hug before I could doubt her once again.

“I forgive you, Ginny,” I said quietly into her ear. “I forgive you.”


I stood in the middle of Dumbledore’s office. The desk had been magically cleared out of the way, along with anything else that was too close to me. A thread of magical light formed a circle around me. I was at least four feet away from any part of it.

“This is the barrier of space that will help the illusion to work,” Dumbledore commented. “The greater its area, the harder it will be for people to look through and see you properly. Then again, it won’t be you; it’ll be an illusion form of you. Ginny and Paige, of course, will know that it isn’t you. However, everyone else will assume that nothing has changed about you.”

“So they won’t really see my illusion?” I questioned.

“They’ll see it, but they won’t question it or look at it twice. It will be there whenever you would be there, as the illusion continues to operate the way you would. It is in action all the time, preventing anyone from realizing its true nature. You will be free to live however you will; the only thing about you that will affect it is your appearance. For example, if you should grow five inches in the next year, your illusion would do so as well. It’s quite a remarkable spell, actually,” Dumbledore said cheerily. “Well, now that the circle is ready, I will perform the magic and create the illusion.”

I closed my eyes. A strange humming filled my ears. I could hear Dumbledore chanting, but his words did not reach me. I felt as if hot air were tickling my skin, running over my whole body and in through my nose and open mouth. It grew hotter, but not so much that I could not bear it. It filled my existence.

Just when I needed to gasp for air, it rushed out of me. I opened my eyes and inhaled.

Nothing had changed. I walked over to Ginny and Paige. Dumbledore stood on the other side of the room. I turned to face him and gasped.

Halfway between us was a blurry image of myself. It stood, not moving at all, as if waiting for my command to go about its business. Ginny and Paige were wide-eyed; Dumbledore looked pleased.

“Excellent. It is ready,” he exclaimed. “Will you tell it to go, Susan?”

“Sure,” I said shakily. In my head, I thought, Go. Be like me.

The illusion swept past me. I barely felt it move, though the edge of my mind seemed to be connected to it as long as I was near by. My illusion.

Ginny and Paige gripped my hands.

Dumbledore crossed the room, replacing furniture with his wand as he went.

As his desk landed with a thump before him, he turned his gaze to me.

“It’s time.”

A/N: I wrote this chapter long before I wrote the four before this one. Like JKR, it needed a place and I felt it fit here; it ends the story nicely. Yes, there will be a sequel, but I have not begun writing it.

Mum took my hand as we trudged down the old dirt path. The sun hovered behind a cloud, casting odd shadows over the hilly landscape before us. There were plenty of trees as well as a small brook. I looked up at the stone wall on top of the hill. I knew that once I passed through the stone archway there was no turning back.

Out of habit, Mum reached for her wand. I shivered slightly, but walked straight ahead. If Dumbledore thought I was supposed to be here, then I probably should not be thinking about turning back any time soon.

Ten minutes later, Mum and I had climbed to the top of the rocky hill. The stone wall stood before us, with the archway in the middle. Moss was growing in all of the cracks. Something felt strange about that wall, as if it held some sort of old magic. Neither Mum nor I took a step forward. It felt as though we should be invited inside.

Through the dull iron of the gate I spied several terraces of gardens. Trees bearing dark fruits dotted the scene in what appeared to be a random order to my eyes. Ten yards from the wall�”which formed a sort of courtyard, boxing in the garden�”stood an old stone cottage.

As I stared at the strange place at my feet, Mum let go of my hand. I did not move, but focused on the house, for that was what it must have been. The door was opening quietly. A small wind whipped my hair around as a woman stepped outside.

Though she must have been quite old, her back was straight and she walked with purpose towards us. Her hair was nearly all white, yet a few blond streaks remained. Her skin was smooth and did not display any signs of age. She wore a long, flowing brown robe that covered her whole body, excluding her arms, which were bare except for a thin bracelet on each wrist. She looked at the ground as she walked towards us. It was as if she hadn’t seen us, though I knew she had.

When she reached the gate, she at last looked up. I could not bring myself to look her in the eye. She slipped a cool hand around the bars of the gate and pulled. A strange wrenching feeling erupted under my skin. Mum did not seem to be affected by it at all. The woman pushed the gate as wide as it would go. “Do come in,” she said. Her voice was just louder than a whisper, but I could have sworn I heard a hint of amusement.

Mum nodded shortly and placed her hand on my shoulder. I forced my legs to move. Once we were inside, the woman shut the gate. I had an odd thought that I would not be leaving this place for some time.


“My name is Taryn,” the woman said as she stroked the fire. “And you are Susan and Mary.”

“Yes,” replied Mum. I stole a look at my surroundings. The stone walls were covered in tapestries. Each seemed to tell a different story. One wall had two doors squeezed between many tapestries. The first was wide open; I spied two beds. The second was shut; I knew instantly that the second door was closed for a reason.

Taryn waved her hand at a few chairs by the fire. “Sit, if you would like,” she offered pleasantly. I sat thankfully, after our tiresome trek up the hill. Mum sat next to me while Taryn sat opposite me.

“Welcome to my home,” Taryn said. “It’s nice to have another apprentice at last.”

Mum stirred. “Apprentice?”

“Yes. That is why you are here. Dumbledore sent you, no?”

“He did. But he did not tell me exactly why,” Mum explained.

Taryn leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Unique man, he is. Never tells anyone what he thinks they should discover for themselves.”

“I see,” said Mum stiffly.

Taryn’s eyes snapped open. “I realize that you are concerned, Mary,” she said evenly. “I’d like to assure you that Susan will be entirely comfortable here with me.”

“Hang on,” Mum objected. “We haven’t decided whether or not Susan is to stay. I don’t even know what she’ll be learning.”

Taryn fixed her eyes on Mum, who stared at the ground. “To answer your first, there is not much of a choice. You came to me. Susan must decide for herself, and that in due time. To answer your second question, Susan will be learning and perfecting the old magic that requires no wand but great power unknown to most wizards.”

She turned her eyes to me once more. Mum did the same. I returned her glance.

“Now, Mary, I think it best that you and Susan says your good-byes.”

Mum stood up a little too quickly. I rose slowly. I did not want Mum to leave, but I knew that I belonged here, with Taryn. Besides, she had mentioned all too casually that I did not have much of a choice.

“Susan,” Mum mumbled, pulling me into a hug.

“You may write her, of course,” Taryn said. “I can’t promise she’ll write back, though. We’ll be very busy.”

Mum bristled slightly, but remained silent.

“I love you, Mum,” I said in the most assuring tone I could muster.

“Love you, too,” she responded in a muffled voice.

Feeling it was time, I pulled away from her. She looked sad but determined to let fate run its course as she stepped back and bid Taryn farewell. I waved quietly. Taryn allowed me to watch her pass through the garden and beyond the gate. Mum turned once to smile at me. I retuned it, but allowed Taryn to close the door on my old life.


“You know, I first knew something was different about me when I was already sixteen,” Taryn said conversationally as she poured us a cup of hot tea. “I was without a wand in a rather uncomfortable situation, but managed to perform magic anyway. When was your first time?”

I sipped the tea carefully. It was hot and burned my tongue slightly, but I drank anyway. It tasted like mint, but had herbal properties that I had never tasted or heard of before. “I was learning to fly,” I answered. “Of course, everything went wrong. I even blacked out. Apparently, as I fell from my broom, I stopped falling in midair. I hovered there until somebody took me down.”

Taryn chuckled. “Yes. Convenient, isn’t it?”

I smiled, feeling relaxed. It might have been the tea, but I felt much more at ease with her after that.

“Where do we begin?” I asked after a time.

Taryn raised her eyebrows. “Begin? My dear, we have already begun.”

“Right. I meant my apprenticeship.”

“I have already explained: it has started. I should tell you that you won’t be taking classes or anything like you’d think. I’ll teach you everything you’d learn at school, but mostly you’ll be helping me out in the garden and learning what you came to me for. It’ll come, but in bits. First, I should like to get to know you better.” She took a large swallow. “Can you tell me what is in this drink, Susan?”

I frowned. “Well, mint. And then… er…”

Taryn’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, the other one is a bit new to you, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “What is it? Does it grow in your garden?”

“It’s called fieren, and yes, I like to grow it in my garden. Quite a taste it adds!”

I drained the last of the hot liquid. Before I could stop myself, I yawned.

Taryn laughed. “I’ll bet you’re tired. You’ve come quite far from Hogwarts, and climbing this hill is not easy. Believe me; I’ve felt it in my old age… Now, let’s get you to bed. We’ll go into the garden early tomorrow, so rest up.”

She led me through the open door into the bedroom. It was cramped, but I felt comfortable as I snuggled under the thick blankets made of some foreign material. “Good night, Taryn,” I murmured, my eyes drooping.

“Good night, Susan,” she replied, running one finger across my forehead. Sleep engulfed me and I knew no more.

A/N: Now that you've read, please leave a review for the final chapter! And check back in a while for a sequel that is coming someday...