Chapter Four

After the day of the EAST final, the last week before they had to return to Hogwarts seemed to disappear all of a sudden, like a rug pulled out from under their feet. Isobel woke up on the morning of the first of September and remembered with a start that in less than twelve hours’ time she would be back at Hogwarts.

Isobel groaned and curled deeper into her bed. No more privacy, no more lazing about, no more freedom. Not that going to Hogwarts could ever be termed boring; it was just that sometimes she preferred the comforts of home and the undiluted company of her best friends in the world.

She went back to sleep for a little, absorbing the last little bit of enjoyment of her own bed at home for that summer, and as a result was woken rudely by her mother’s harried voice yelling her name through the house. She ignored her for a moment, then sighed and rolled out of bed. Her trunk was packed and ready on the floor, her clothes for the day laid out neatly on top. She tied her sandy-blonde hair in a knot to keep it out of her face and slipped into her worn old jeans and t-shirt.

“Isobel!” she heard her mum yell again. “It’s time to leave!”

“Coming!” Isobel grabbed the handle of her trunk and lifted it easily. That was one nice thing about having a Transfiguration expert and all-around impressive witch for a mother – she’d Charmed Isobel’s trunk to be feather-light, no matter what she put in it.

Mrs. Jones looked worried and a little annoyed when Isobel clattered down the stairs in her trainers, but her face softened when she saw her daughter. “I’m going to miss you,” she said.

“Mum,” objected Isobel, her tone clearly stating that she did not want any part in this sappy stuff.

“Being a surly teenager never changed the way mums feel about their children,” her father said jokingly from behind her. “Or dads. C’mere.” He turned her around and hugged her tightly. “There, now your old man doesn’t have to embarrass you in front of everyone else by hugging you later.” She hugged him back for a second and then they moved apart. Her dad grabbed her trunk before she could protest, and he carried it outside for her. The three of them set off down the road to the Wus’. When they reached it, they found the Wus’ old estate car already purring in front of their house, the boot open as Mr. Wu loaded John and Julia’s trunks in it.

He smiled, his stern face warming, as he saw the Joneses. “Good morning!” he said. “Hand me that trunk, I’ll put it right in here.” Isobel’s dad obeyed, and Mr. Wu hefted the trunk and settled it next to the other two.  John, who had been standing on his doorstep next to his yawning sister, waved and came over to talk to Isobel.

The Murphy siblings and their parents arrived shortly after, Andrew wearing his shiny new prefect badge pinned to his t-shirt, and the four of them stowed away their trunks. It was a good thing the Wus had had the car enchanted to be larger inside than out; otherwise, all seven of those trunks would certainly have been unable to fit.

Now it was time to say goodbye. The car might have been enchanted, but it couldn’t fit all of them. Mr. and Mrs. Murphy and Isobel’s parents had to stay behind.

Isobel suddenly found her view of the street blocked by her mother’s curly hair as she was engulfed in a tight embrace. Her mum held on for a minute, and then her dad hugged her again, despite his joking promise not to do so in the street.

When the goodbyes were over with, Mr. and Mrs. Wu settled into the front seats of the car, and the seven of them climbed into the back, where the long, bench-like seat managed to stretch to fit all of them comfortably.

It was a long drive to King’s Cross station; usually about two hours for your average Muggle, it took at least an extra half an hour for Mr. Wu to drive. He might have both a car and a license to drive it, but he was not the world’s best or fastest driver. Better him than Mrs. Wu, though: she had a tendency to jump whenever other cars passed them.

They were at King’s Cross in plenty of time to get on the Hogwarts Express, though; Mr. Wu always started out early, just in case. In case of what, Isobel didn’t like to think. She might not be as nervous as Mrs. Wu, but she had never become entirely comfortable with cars.

They loitered about in the train station for a while, wheeling their carts, until Mr. Wu noticed the time. “It’s nearly eleven o’ clock now! Hurry, let’s get onto the platform!”

The lot of them ran helter-skelter towards platforms nine and ten. They’d attracted a few stares – a couple of Muggle teenagers had laughed and yelled “Run!” at them – so they had to stop and wait for a minute or so before passing onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Once on the platform, they resumed their headlong dash. Cal and Andrew lifted their trunks onto the train while John and Julia exchanged hurried hugs with their parents. Isobel, Art, the Wu siblings and Cal found an empty compartment just as the train began pulling out of the station; Eleanor had broken off partway down the hallway to sit with a friendly-looking group of first-years, saying, “No offense, but I don’t want to start off my year sitting with my brothers.” Andrew had gone to take his place in the prefects’ compartment.

“So,” said Art, catching his breath, “I, for one, am just as happy not to have to deal with Andrew on this oh-so-lovely train ride.”

“And I’m sure he’s ecstatic not to have to deal with you,” muttered Julia. “Now shut up so I can go back to sleep.”

* * *

When they arrived at Hogwarts, the five of them split up at the entrance to the Great Hall. John, Isobel and Cal went to the Gryffindor table. Art and Julia sat down at the Ravenclaw table. Isobel saw Andrew already in place at the Hufflepuff table.

The new first-years straggled into the Great Hall in a long, nervous line. Eleanor looked flushed and shy in the middle of the line. Art and his friends waved excitedly at Eleanor, calling her name, and obviously making themselves obnoxious on purpose. She made a face back at them and blushed even more furiously.

“You better be in Ravenclaw, baby sister!” Art yelled, getting a glare from the Head Girl, also a Ravenclaw, in addition to Eleanor’s. He smiled cheekily at the Head Girl, unrepentant.

Professor Flitwick carried the Sorting Hat and stool in and set them down in front of the line of first years. He cleared his throat, consulting a piece of parchment. “Armstrong, Laura!” he shouted.

The Sorting dragged on for Isobel. Having slept in, she hadn’t eaten breakfast, and she’d had only a sandwich for lunch. Her stomach growled insistently at her all through the first half of the alphabet. And then Flitwick called out, “Murphy, Eleanor,” and she ignored her stomach.

Eleanor sat gingerly on the stool, looking nervous as Flitwick lowered the hat onto her head. It mulled for a minute or so, and then it seemed to come to a conclusion.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” it roared out over the crowd.

“I thought for sure she’d be a Ravenclaw,” said Isobel as she watched Eleanor sit as far away from Andrew as she could contrive.

“The Sorting Hat works in mysterious ways,” said John, shrugging. “I mean, we all thought I’d be in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, right? And here I am in Gryffindor.”

“You put up with having Isobel as a best friend,” said Cal. “That’s bravery enough for anyone.”

“Hey!” protested Isobel, laughing despite herself. “I’m not that bad!”

Just then, the food arrived on the golden plates, and they abandoned the conversation in favor of the feast laid out before them.

* * *

“It’s been less than a week and I’m sick of Trelawney already,” Isobel moaned, throwing herself into a chair in the library. Already at the table were the rest of the Eleigh St. Mary kids, minus Eleanor, who already had her own social life, thank you very much.

“Come on,” Julia said. “Trelawney’s fun, if you can forget she’s being deadly serious the whole time. Besides, you only have to stick with it another year – you can drop it after OWLs.”

“I can’t believe it’s OWL year already,” said John. “The teachers make it sound like the tests are right around the corner. I think they’re purposely trying to scare us into being extra-studious this year.”

“I can’t believe I only have another year till I have to deal with that,” Cal groaned.

Julia said, “Don’t think of it as ‘only a year till we have to do that’ – think of it as ‘we have a whole year to point and laugh while John, Isobel and Andrew suffer.’” She grinned impishly at her brother.

 “You’re not as funny as you think you are,” John informed her.

“I’m glad someone finally had the guts to say it!” Art ducked a quill thrown at him by Julia. “Not that it takes that much guts – you’re a crack Seeker, Jules, but your aim is terrible.”

“Like anyone could throw a quill and hit their mark!” Julia said mock-indignantly.

“You’re just lobbing it, that’s your problem,” put in Cal, picking up his own quill. “You throw it like a dart, see?” He sighted along the shaft of the quill and threw it. It curved in midair and collided gently with Art’s arm instead of what he had been aiming for – namely, Julia’s forehead.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Quills are curved, not straight like darts. Now stop throwing things before Pince sees you and kicks us out. I, for one, would like to retain my library privileges for the night. I have an essay to write. Speaking of which, I really should get working on it.”

John shook his head. “Clearwater’s taken to assigning monsters lately. How can she expect us to write two feet every other time we have her lesson and not go crazy?”

Andrew shrugged, sighed and stood up to head for the Transfiguration section. He nearly ran into Martin, who was on his way to the table. They nodded at one another in greeting and Martin took Andrew’s seat.

“How did I know I’d find you guys here?” Martin asked jokingly. The six of them, often with Martin included this past week, spent a little time in the library every night after dinner. Six friends in three different houses meant that you either socialized outdoors or in the library – and the library was the better bet at night.

“How’s life in NEWT classes?” Julia asked. “Scarier than these OWL classes we’ve been hearing about?”

“So much scarier. You have no idea,” Martin said. “You guys think two feet every other night from just one lesson is bad? Try one and half, from each lesson, practically every single time we meet, and then add Clearwater’s monsters. It’s insane.”

“What classes are you taking, anyway?” John asked.

“Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, and Muggle Studies. None of them are required for what I really want to do – there aren’t really any NEWTs required for that – but I reckon they’ll be useful if I can’t get into the job I want.”

“Which is?” Cal said.

“Journalism – preferably working for the Daily Prophet, but I’ll take what I can get.” Martin smiled. “My mum can’t decide whether to be pleased or disapproving – it’s not exactly the easiest job to get into. There’s not a lot of opportunities. Look, I feel like I’m being interrogated. Let’s talk about something else. Quidditch, maybe. Have we decided what we’re going to do about practice?”

Isobel nodded. “We’re going to just start off with drilling by the lake once every other week – are Saturday afternoons all right for you?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” said Martin. “Do we have Bludgers or anything for the Beaters to work with?”

“Me and Andrew got bats, but Mum wouldn’t let us get a Bludger.” Art pulled a face. “She wasn’t convinced we wouldn’t try and use it at home, and she thinks it’s just too risky to have a magically animated ball loose so close to a Muggle town.”

“Well, with you and Cal for children, who wouldn’t say no to a Bludger?” Julia raised an eyebrow. “Not to mention me as a neighbor.”

“It’s a shame, though,” said Cal. “Neither Art nor Andrew has ever had practice with a Bludger. Maybe we should talk to Professor Clearwater about borrowing one.”

“Why would Professor Clearwater give us a Bludger? She knows what we’re like with rules just as well as Mum does,” Art said. “Not to mention, I’m not sure how many Bludgers this school actually has. Are there more than just the two?”

Julia tilted her head. “You know, I’m not actually sure I know. I feel like I should. I mean, I’ve been on the Quidditch team for how long now?”

“Two years doth not an old-timer make,” Art said.

“All right, enough,” Isobel cut in. “We’ll see how things go first – maybe we can manage to enchant some rocks or something? – and if it’s not enough, we’ll talk to Professor Clearwater, all right?”

“You know, that’s what Bludgers were when they were first invented,” said Cal. “Enchanted rocks. I think it’d work.”

“You know, if you knew as much about everything else as you know about Quidditch, you’d be getting a lot better grades,” said John, amused.

“Now you sound like my mum,” Cal groaned. “I don’t care about anything else as much as I do about Quidditch.”

“This conversation is getting so out of hand.” Julia sighed. “Back to enchanted rocks. I can try it, but I don’t know how well it’ll work. I’m good, but I’m not sure if I’m that good.”

“I trust you, Jules,” said Art.

“Thanks so much,” Julia said sarcastically. “This, coming from the boy who’s probably not even going to take Charms after OWL year. That is just so reassuring.” She smiled at Art, dropping the sarcasm. “You know I love you.”

“This,” said Art, mocking Julia’s sarcastic tone, “from the girl who can’t keep a boyfriend because she has no heart –“

He broke off as Julia hit him in the arm. “That is beside the point!” she said as everyone else dissolved into laughter.

* * *

They all met the next day on a stretch of green grass next to the lake for their first Quidditch practice.

“Well,” said Isobel, looking from face to face, the lake at her back. “It’s nice out, even if the sun’s brighter than is ideal. Lucky we’re not here for a game. Julia, have you got some Bludgers made up?”

Julia, whose messenger bag was squirming rather oddly, squinted into the sun, looking embarrassed. “I…I have, but they’re not very good ones. I can try to make them better. I just didn’t really have all that much time.” She set her bag on the ground, unbuckled it and stepped back. Two very uneven-looking rocks came floating out of the bag, lurching drunkenly. They seemed to be attempting to go fast, but they couldn’t quite generate the force to haul their weight through the air quickly. “I’m not sure if it’s the fact that they were smaller stones originally – I couldn’t find bigger ones, so I had to Engorge these – or if it’s the fact that they’re all lopsided and rough, or if it’s my spellwork…” She shook her head. “I’m sure I can do better.”

“Good,” said Isobel briskly, now fully in captain mode. “These’ll do for now, I’m sure, and you can work on them some more later.” She turned away to talk to Art and Andrew, who both carried their Beater’s bats, about how they were going to practice.

“They’re pretty good, you know,” Cal said. Julia turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, not professional quality, but just think about what would happen if any of the rest of us tried. They wouldn’t even get off the ground. Besides, these slow ones – they’ll give Art and Andrew practice with simply aiming, not having to fight the Bludgers’ force. Our captain has new Beaters practice with Quaffles for the same reason. Don’t worry about getting it right just now.”

Julia smiled. “Thanks.”

“Julia! Get over here! We have to discuss how you’re going to practice!” Isobel shouted from where she was standing with Art and Andrew.

“Gotta go – Miss High-and-Mighty Captain calls.” Julia rolled her eyes and walked across the grass to Isobel, muttering, “Hasn’t she ever heard of saying ‘please’?”

“Does your captain have you do anything in particular to practice being Seeker?” asked Isobel.

“Er…I practice with the Snitch during practice,” said Julia. “But I take it that’s not an option, unless you stole a Snitch from Professor Clearwater.”

Isobel snorted. “No. I did have an idea for you, though – maybe we could set up an obstacle course for you, to keep you nimble?”

“And how are you planning on doing that?” Julia asked skeptically. Isobel was not known for her skill at spellwork.

“I thought maybe you’d have some ideas. You’re the expert.” Isobel smiled at Julia.

“Hmm.” Julia looked up, pondering the possibilities. “I know.” She pulled her wand out and shot a hoop of red sparks up into the air. “I can do more hoops and maybe a few sort of…blobby things to dodge around.”

“No incantation,” said Isobel, impressed.

“It’s just like sending up a cloud of red sparks except you can make it do shapes and stay longer,” said Julia, her face lighting up at the chance to explain. “Art’s friend Skelton explained it to me. He’s kind of a genius.”

“So, basically, this is one of those things I’m not going to be able to understand how to do,” said Isobel.

“Right,” said Julia.

“Just so we’re clear.” Isobel smiled.

“But I don’t mind making obstacles myself,” Julia said. “I can really make it difficult for me.” She grinned. As with spells, so with flying – she loved a challenge.

“All right, since that’s settled, I’m going to go and talk to Cal, John and Martin about how we’re going to practice.” Julia vaguely heard Isobel calling out for her Chasers and Keeper as she left her to shoot more hoops of red sparks into the air, but Julia ignored her captain’s voice and focused on her spellwork. For variety’s sake, she put up a few hoops and an amorphous blob of green.

“Right, so our practice is going to be simple,” said Isobel when her fellow Chasers and Martin were gathered about her. “We Chasers try to throw the Quaffle past Martin. Actually – I just had an idea. Julia!” she shouted.

“Yeah?” Julia replied, pausing as a particularly small red ring rose above her.

“Can you put up three hoops for Martin to defend?” Isobel asked.

“Sure thing!” Julia squinted and three rings of golden sparks the size of real Quidditch goalposts appeared over Martin’s head.

“Thanks!” Isobel yelled, and said to Martin, “Right, so you defend those, and we try and put the Quaffle through it.”

“And we practice some strategies while we do that,” John interjected.

“And we practice some strategies. Yes. We talked about a couple the other day; let’s try them now. You’ve got the Quaffle, Cal?”

Cal hefted the Murphys’ battered Quaffle in one hand. “Right here.”

“All right. Let’s go.”