Not Clever Enough

Alexandra came downstairs the next morning with Nigel, her pet snake. Her mother had already left for work. Her stepfather was sitting at the kitchen table in his gray police uniform, with waffles, eggs, coffee, and the morning newspaper in front of him.

He frowned at the snake wrapped around Alexandra's wrist. “I thought we agreed that thing stays in its cage.”

Alexandra poured herself a bowl of cereal. “Nigel's kind of sluggish. You did feed him every week like you were supposed to, didn't you?”

“Yes. It wasn't sluggish when it coiled up and hissed at me. I dumped the worms into its cage. If it didn't eat them, that's the damn snake's problem.”

The little brown snake's tongue flicked out, tasting the air, as if trying to pinpoint the source of Archie's rumbling voice. Nigel wasn't a sociable pet like Charlie, but Alexandra felt quite protective of her second familiar, whom she had rescued from the Mors Mortis Society and John Manuelito two years earlier.

Archie downed the last of his coffee and rose, putting his broad, campaign-style police hat on his head. “I'll be on patrol today, so don't call me unless it's an emergency. Leave a message with your mother at the hospital if you go anywhere.”

“Yes, Archie,” Alexandra said in an I-know-that-why-are-you-telling-me-again? tone. Despite her eye-rolling, she was glad that her parents had decided she could be left home alone without supervision. There had been no talk of sending her to camp, and it was too late for her to enroll in summer classes at Larkin Mills High School.

After her stepfather left, Alexandra finished her breakfast while lying on the couch in the living room watching TV.

By mid-morning, she had dozed off. The shows she'd watched when she was younger no longer interested her. Cartoons about witches and ninjas and pirates bored her. Dramas and sitcoms about teenagers made her feel uncomfortable, as if she were looking in on a world that was receding away from her more and more every year.

She sat up with a start when her cell phone jingled. For a moment, she felt alarm when she realized Nigel was no longer wrapped around her wrist. Then she felt scales sliding against her belly. She reached under her shirt to drag the snake out while reaching for the phone with her other hand. Nigel twisted in her grasp and actually opened his mouth, but she ignored the snake's irritation as she checked her phone. She expected it to be Payton, and for a moment, she was disappointed when she saw that it was David Washington, the only friend of hers from school who also had a cell phone.

The flash of disappointment irritated her. She was not waiting for Payton to call! She pressed the talk button. “Hey. What's up?”

“What's up with you?” David's voice sounded a little deeper than the last time she'd spoken to him.

“I'm back in Larkin Mills, obviously. You still taking summer classes?” Like her, David had Muggle parents, and they insisted he continue his 'Muggle' education alongside his wizarding studies.

“Yeah. English is okay. I hate math. Um, have you seen the news?”

“The news?” Alexandra looked at the television, which was showing reruns of some stupid show about rich teenagers in New York City.

“In Louisiana,” David said.

“You mean the oil spill? I heard about that.”

“I mean right now.”

She flipped the channels until she came to a news station, which was showing live coverage from Louisiana. A reporter in a yellow raincoat was holding a microphone while wind gusted around her; behind her was an enormous green-black puddle met at the horizon by roiling black storm clouds. 'Death toll rises as a result of freakish weather' said the banner scrolling along the bottom of the screen. 'Missing communities still mystify authorities.'

“What's going on in Louisiana?” Alexandra asked.

“Weird stuff. Magical stuff.”

“Freak storms aren't necessarily magic.”

“Two whole towns have disappeared. Little tiny ones, but that's a few hundred people, just gone. FEMA and them think it was freak tornadoes.”

Alexandra looked past the reporter on the screen at the turbulent swamp water behind her.

“I got a couple letters from Angelique this summer,” David went on. “She said a lot of ghosts have been stirred up in the Territory, and other things, too. Will-o-wisps, vampires, Dementors... They're putting extra security around Baleswood, and the Louisiana Regiment has been mustered.”

“Sounds like a lot of panic over some freak storms,” Alexandra said. But unease snaked around her gut. “Aren't there always rumors of Dark Arts and undead down there?”

“Angelique says it's more than usual.”

“And Angelique is such a reliable source.”

David ignored that. “They're saying the Dark Convention is gathering.”

“'They' say. Who's 'they'? What does that even mean, 'the Dark Convention is gathering'? You don't think I know anything about this, do you?”

There was a pause. “No. 'Course not. Just thought... you know. You might have heard something.”

“From my father? Did someone ask you to ask me?”

“What? No! What the heck are you talking about?” David's tone became angry. “What's your problem, Alex?”

Alexandra relaxed her tight grip on the phone. David was naturally inquisitive, finding everything about the wizarding world fascinating. He hadn't really experienced how dangerous it was the way she had. The fact that Alexandra was the daughter of a Dark Wizard was probably just another story he told his parents, like house-elves and Quidditch.

“Sorry,” she said. “But I get that a lot, you know.”

David made a snorting noise at the other end.

She tried to change the subject. “How's Angelique?”

There was another long silence. Finally, David answered: “She isn't coming back to Charmbridge.”

“What?” Alexandra felt Nigel squirming in her hand, and realized her grip had tightened on the poor creature. With an apologetic look she knew the snake couldn't possibly read, she loosened her grasp. Nigel's head swiveled around to stare at her with what she imagined was an accusing expression.

“She, uh, well, her parents think Charmbridge is too... dangerous. And it's hard for her... you know.”

Darla Dearborn had been Angelique Devereaux's roommate and best friend. Alexandra knew the other girl had been terribly distraught over Darla's death.

It made her sad that Angelique would not be returning to Charmbridge. She and Angelique had never been close, but she would miss the witch from New Orleans. Charmbridge Academy wouldn't be the same without the two spoiled pureblood girls who'd been her sometimes-friends, sometimes-antagonists since sixth grade.

“Sorry” was all she could say. David and Angelique had started dating last year. He would miss Angelique more than she would.

They talked for a few more minutes, about David's father's football team and the classes they were taking this year. Alexandra was surprised to learn that David had exchanged several letters with Constance and Forbearance over the summer. Maybe he asked them for girl advice, she thought, amused.

After they ended their conversation, Alexandra watched the news channel a little while longer, then said to Nigel, “I can't waste the rest of my summer watching TV.”

Nigel's tongue flicked in and out, but the snake offered no comment.

The Dark Convention is gathering. Alexandra couldn't put these events together, but she had a feeling that sooner or later, they would have some significance to her. Meanwhile, her own time was ticking away. And what was she doing about it?

Absalom Thorn's words came back to her: Your father was a brilliant wizard already at your age. Alexandra had proven herself a talented witch, especially when it came to dueling, but no one thought of her as brilliant. And there was so much she wanted to learn.

She had only a few schoolbooks at home, and a SPAWN study guide she hadn't opened all summer. Studying magic while being unable to perform it only frustrated her. She'd been threatened with probation, expulsion from Charmbridge, or worse if she was caught doing magic at home again.

But a lot of the Standardized Practical Assessment of Wizarding kNowledge was not spellcasting, but magical theory, Arithmancy, potion ingredients and alchemical formulas... things Alexandra would have to master. She went upstairs and put Nigel back in his terrarium, setting the snake atop the magical warming rock, and took out her books. With a sigh, she opened them and began reading.

Payton called the next day. Alexandra was pleased, but he wasn't interested in discussing books or classes, and when Alexandra talked about SPAWNs and magical theory and alchemy, he said something about his girlfriend being a 'wyrm.' A little nonplussed at being called his girlfriend, she decided not to bring up magical studies anymore. Payton continued to call every other day. She enjoyed talking to him, but rarely remembered much about what they talked about.

When Anna called her later that week from a pay phone in San Francisco, Alexandra asked her to send some of her Advanced Magical Theory notes and study guides from last year.

Alexandra no longer had any friends in Larkin Mills, so letters and emails from her school friends were more welcome than they knew. An owl from the Pritchards arrived within days of her return, telling her that their younger sister Innocence was 'much improved' since the traumatic events of a few months ago.

The barn owl that brought their letter also carried one from Innocence. The younger girl's letter, written in large, loopy handwriting, was much longer than her sisters'. It went on for several pages about the Pritchards' homestead and their goats and pigs, and the magical soap and small charms and blessings the Ozarkers produced as part of their livelihood. She complained about babysitting her younger brother and sister while Constance and Forbearance got to go into the woods with the Grannies, and talked about next year's Jubilee, some sort of Ozarker festival held every seven years.

It was a rambling account of Ozarker life which amused and baffled Alexandra by turns. Why was Innocence telling her all this? At the very end, Innocence wrote:

'I hope you are recovered and feeling in mighty high spirits, since you spent the summer with your sister, who I'm sure is sweet and lovely and not bossy and mean like some sisters are (sometimes). I know things been mighty rough for you, Alex, but I won't never forget how you saved my life. You are the bravest girl ever and we even said so to Pa, too! So don't worry none about us not coming back to Charmbridge cause we pitched a row and threatened to mope and wheeze til the end of time if our folks kept us home, and even the Rashes said they thought Constance and Forbearance ought to finish educating. (They don't care none bout me course but that's fine cause I don't give a lick bout them neither!) I am praying you have peace and joy and all nice things, and so is Connie and Forbearance.

Love,

Innocence

(P.S. I don't have a crush on David no more so if you and him start courting I won't mind.)

(P.P.S. I know a secret!)'

“What?” Alexandra said aloud. She shook her head and put the letter in her desk drawer.

“I'm going to the library,” she said to her familiars. Charlie fluttered back to the comfortable cage by her bed. Nigel did not respond. She sent a text message to her mother, and set off for the place where she had spent so many afternoons back in the days when she was a year-round resident of Larkin Mills.

Though it was sunny, dark clouds were beginning to cover part of the sky, and Alexandra could hear distant rumblings of thunder. The library was only a few blocks from her house, so she increased her pace. She walked down Sweetmaple Avenue, crossed the main intersection at Adams Street and cut across the park. She was almost to the far side when she heard a catcall, followed by someone saying in a voice just loud enough to be heard across the grass: “Freak.”

Three boys and two girls were sitting at one of the picnic benches, next to an old barbecue grill. She recognized the boys, but it was the younger of the two girls who caught her attention.

“Keep walking, you weird freak!” yelled one of the boys. It was Billy Boggleston, of course. He'd been a thorn in her side for as long as she'd lived in Larkin Mills: a bully all through elementary school, and an annoyance even when she was home over school breaks.

Alexandra stalked over to their table. There was a smoky haze around them. Billy sucked on his cigarette, then flicked it into the cold ashes of the barbecue grill and rose slowly to his feet. He had always been a large boy, but now he looked several years older than he was, taller than Alexandra and much broader and heavier.

Alexandra ignored Billy and focused her gaze on the two girls. One of them was her age. Alexandra vaguely remembered her as a former classmate in elementary school, though she was almost unrecognizable now: torn jeans and a midriff-baring shirt, spiked hair, glittering pins through her ears, and a bright kabuki mask of makeup. She was sitting on the table with her feet planted on the bench. She gave Alexandra an insincere smile. “Hi, Alexandra.”

Alexandra nodded and looked at the other girl, the younger one sitting at the end of the picnic bench: Bonnie Seabury.

Bonnie lived down the street from her on Sweetmaple Avenue. Her older brother, Brian, had been Alexandra's best friend once. In the days before Alexandra had gone away to Charmbridge Academy, before their friendship had ended, Bonnie had often accompanied the two of them when Brian was stuck looking after his younger sister. It was, indirectly, because of Bonnie that Alexandra and Brian were no longer friends. Bonnie had seen too much of magic, much more than she should have, and more than Brian could bear.

But now she was sitting on a picnic bench with boys three years older than her, boys who had always tormented and bullied her and her brother alike. Bonnie wasn't dressed up and preening like the other girl, but she was wearing lip gloss and a bit of inexpertly applied eyeshadow, and large, dangly earrings.

“What are you doing with these creeps?” Alexandra asked.

“Creeps?” Billy snorted. Gordie Pike and Tom Gavin made little 'ohs' with their mouths and slapped the table.

The girl with the torn jeans and spiked hair took a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered it to Alexandra. “Smoke?”

“No thanks.” Alexandra didn't look at her. Her eyes were fixed on the nervous but defiant Bonnie.

“I'm just hanging out,” Bonnie said.

“Do your parents know who you're hanging out with?”

“She's just hanging out,” Billy said. Tom and Gordie chortled. They exchanged glances as if they were sharing a private joke.

“You're not the boss of me,” Bonnie said.

“Yeah, freak, you're not the boss of her,” Billy repeated. Tom and Gordie snickered. Amused, the girl on the table took another drag from her cigarette.

Alexandra gave Bonnie a long, slow stare, until Bonnie's eyes dropped.

“You're right, I'm not,” Alexandra said. She shrugged, then turned to Billy, her eyes hardening. “But if you call me a freak again, I'll show you something freaky.”

Billy's face twitched, then he screwed it up in an angry glower. “Show me what, freak?”

She stepped up to him until they were almost nose to nose – or rather, nose to neck, as Billy was now a good several inches taller than her.

She lowered her voice. “You really are pretty stupid, aren't you?”

“What are you going to do, witch?” he said. “Turn me into a frog?”

He had apparently gotten braver as he'd grown larger. Alexandra could feel her wand, inches from her fingers. But to draw it and curse Billy would be foolish. Satisfying and easy, but wrong... and illegal. How many times had she acted on impulse and regretted it? Even the accidental spells – worms coming out of noses, tainted food, ponds turning to blood – had gotten her in trouble.

She let out a long, slow breath, and with her cheeks burning, she turned away from him. He laughed.

You have no idea what I could do to you, she thought, but though she tried to content herself with that, the knowledge gave her little pleasure as Tom and Gordie and the older girl joined in the laughter.

Bonnie looked at her uncertainly. Alexandra wondered if the younger girl wanted to laugh at her, too, or if she was disappointed at not seeing her do something to Billy.

“That's right – take off, freak!” Billy said.

“Shut up,” Alexandra said.

Billy shoved her from behind, his flat palm slapping against her shoulder blade hard enough to make her stagger and step forward to regain her balance.

She turned back around. “Don't touch me.”

His hand reached out to shove her again, this time in the chest. Flushing with anger, she slapped his hand away and shoved him back. He barely moved, and when he returned her shove, he sent her sprawling on the grass. Tom and Gordie hooted with laughter. Alexandra rolled to her feet and launched herself at Billy.

Billy was startled by her assault. Her head caught him in the chest and this time he did fall backward, with Alexandra on top of him. The air in his lungs came out with a 'whoof' as he landed on his back and Alexandra began pummeling him.

Then his fist lashed out and caught her under the chin. While she reeled, he rolled over on top of her. She tried to punch him, but he caught both of her wrists in his hands while sitting on her stomach. She struggled, but he was stronger. Billy laughed, and Alexandra's anger turned into white-hot fury. She smelled smoke and felt heat rising from her, and for a moment, Billy's expression turned to one of alarm.

Then someone slammed into him and he tumbled off of her. Alexandra sat up to see Billy rolling on the grass with someone else.

“Brian!” cried Bonnie, leaping to her feet. Tom and Gordie were also on their feet, moving toward the two scuffling boys.

Billy already had his hands around Brian's neck. Brian's arms flailed helplessly, trying to push the bigger boy away from him. Alexandra intercepted Tom as he was about to pile onto Brian as well, and gave him a shove that sent him stumbling backward. She faced Gordie, who looked at her uncertainly. Behind Gordie and Tom, the girl with the cigarette had not moved from the table; she was watching the fight with wide eyes.

Bonnie ran at Billy, but Tom caught her and lifted her off the ground, with her feet kicking in the air. She screamed and Alexandra lunged at Tom, before Gordie grabbed Alexandra's arm and spun her around. Alexandra's fist came around as well and struck Gordie in the side of the head. He yelped and punched her back, and for the second time, Alexandra stumbled dizzily.

I'll curse all of you! she thought, blinded by rage as much as by Gordie's blow, and then a 'Whoop-whoop-whoop!' sound cut through the commotion, and everyone jerked their heads around.

“Oh, crap,” said Billy, still squatting on Brian, as a police SUV turned off the street, drove over the curb, and came right across the grass toward them. It rolled to an abrupt halt just outside the picnic area. The driver's door opened, and Sergeant Archie Green stepped out.

“What the hell do you kids think you're doing?” he demanded.

Everyone began shouting at once, Alexandra and Billy loudest of all, until Alexandra's stepfather held his hands up and said, “Quiet!”

The teenagers all fell silent. Archie glared at them.

“Brawling like a bunch of gangsters right in the middle of the park,” he said. “I should take you all downtown and lock you up and make your parents come get you.”

“I didn't do anything!” said the girl sitting on the table. She hadn't moved from where she was sitting.

Archie narrowed his eyes at her. “Put out that cigarette.”

Sullenly, she stubbed it out against the wooden surface of the table.

“You four,” Archie said, pointing at Billy, Tom, Gordie, and the girl, “get out of here. If I see any of you loitering in this park again, I will take you to the station and call your parents. You three –” He pointed at Alexandra, Brian, and Bonnie, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get in the vehicle.” He paused. “What did you do to the grass?”

Alexandra looked down at her feet. The grass was blackened and smoldering in a spreading circle around her. Even as she stared, a few more blades at the edge of the circle charred and withered.

“Nothing,” she said. Her voice sounded hollow in her ears. Everyone else was staring at her with fear, suspicion, and amazement. Little wisps of smoke rose from the earth, joining the smoke from one of the boys' discarded cigarette butts.

“Freak,” Billy muttered.

“I said get out of here!” Archie snapped at him. He looked at Alexandra again, and repeated the gesture toward the SUV. Alexandra followed Brian and Bonnie and opened the front passenger's side door as the Seaburys slid into the back seat. Bonnie was sniffling now.

“Buckle your seat belts and keep your mouths shut,” Archie said, and threw the SUV into reverse. He backed across the sidewalk and over the curb into the street, and then turned toward Sweetmaple Avenue, as thunder rumbled overhead and rain began to fall.

Alexandra was grounded. She hadn't bothered trying to defend herself. Archie didn't care. He'd taken Brian and Bonnie home, delivering them to a tight-lipped Mrs. Seabury, who curtly beckoned them inside and then nodded politely to Sergeant Green and thanked him. He tipped his hat and turned away, stepping off her porch to walk back to the SUV in their driveway, where Alexandra sat sullenly with her arms folded across her chest. Mrs. Seabury looked directly at her for a moment, with a stern, disapproving expression, and then she disappeared back into her house, closing the door firmly.

After that, Archie dropped Alexandra off at home and told her she wasn't to leave the house. That evening, he and Claudia listened as Alexandra explained her version of events, and then they told her she was grounded for a week.

Just before she went to bed, her mother asked her if she was all right.

“No, I'm grounded,” Alexandra said. “When it wasn't even my fault.”

“Are you all right?” her mother repeated, and though she was angry at being grounded, Alexandra sensed genuine concern, and tried to answer without sounding sulky.

“I'm fine, Mom.”

Her mother looked doubtful.

“Really,” Alexandra said. It was almost true.

Her mother nodded uncertainly. “You'll tell me if something is really bothering you, right?”

My father is going to start a war with the Confederation. I have seven years to live. What good would telling her mother that do?

“If I need to talk, I'll tell you.” When her mother's expression softened, Alexandra asked, “Am I still grounded?”

“Yes.” Her mother smiled and patted her cheek, which did nothing to make Alexandra less sullen.

The next day, her parents were already at work when she got up. Being grounded wasn't such a burden, since the storm that had rolled in the previous afternoon was lingering, pelting Larkin Mills with heavy rain and occasional flashes of lightning. Alexandra sat at her desk with a Wand-ReadyTM SPAWN Study Guide in front of her, while Charlie sat on the windowsill and preened in front of the glass.

'Proper spells satisfy the requirements of being Principled, Repeatable, and Universal,' she read. 'A spell that does not satisfy each of these three requirements may be effective under certain circumstances, but as this sort of magic is restricted to specialists in post-secondary education, such spells and variant magical practices are not covered in the SPAWN curriculum.'

There was a lot of magic that didn't get taught in school, Alexandra knew. Her teachers usually dismissed 'conjuring' and other 'non-standard wizarding practices' as primitive, unreliable and dangerous, yet that didn't prevent other wizarding Cultures from using them.

She looked out the window at the sky as lightning crackled overhead. According to weather reports, most of the state was currently under cloud cover, and the storm would remain active until late in the afternoon.

The Trace Office tracked underage wizards and witches living in Muggle communities with scrying magic, but Valeria had told her last year that scrying didn't work very well through a storm.

To test this, Alexandra had transformed Charlie's cage into an animated wicker basket earlier that morning. It was a moderately challenging Transfiguration. Turning the cage into a wicker basket was easy, and appropriate for her grade level. Causing the basket to sprout legs and walk around the room like a big wicker spider was more difficult, but still something that she could claim to be doing as practice for her SPAWN.

She had been waiting for an owl to arrive with either a warning from the Trace Office or a Howler. It had been two hours, and so far there had been no response. Maybe the Trace Office had not detected her infraction, or maybe the rain was just delaying the owl.

The basket bumped against her leg, and she kicked it into a corner, where it squirmed and wiggled its wicker legs like an overturned turtle, trying to right itself.

She pointed her wand at the window and said, “Alohomora.” The window flew open. Charlie squawked in protest as rain gusted in, then flapped to the other side of the room. Alexandra leaned out, half-expecting to see an owl winging its way toward her open window. All she saw were the wet rooftops and her neighbors' backyards.

She shut the window and resumed studying.

By that evening, the sky had cleared, but no owl arrived. The next day, an owl did arrive, but it was from Julia. It labored with the tightly-wrapped bundle it was carrying, and snapped its beak angrily when Alexandra gave it only one owl treat. It looked at Charlie hungrily until Alexandra offered it several more to go away.

'Dear Alexandra,' Julia wrote, 'I have enclosed the study guide you requested, though I must admit to some misgivings. I know you told me you just want to understand the theory behind Apparition, and I know, dear sister, that you will not get yourself into trouble by doing anything dangerous and illegal. Nonetheless, I'm quite sure Mother would not approve. So for my sake (because if anything were to happen, you know Mother will find out about it) please don't do anything foolish.'

Alexandra opened the guide that came with Julia's letter: 'Before You Apparate: What You Need to Know Before You Go.' Underneath this and the seal of the Department of Magical Transportation was written: 'A study guide for juveniles aged 16 years and older. No exercises in this book shall be undertaken without adult supervision in an approved course of study. Further Territorial restrictions may apply.'

Alexandra smiled, then noticed Julia's P.S.: 'I really mean it, Alexandra! You could get hurt trying to Apparate on your own. Please be careful.'

Poor Julia. She tried to be a responsible older sister, but she chafed enough under her own restrictions that Alexandra found it too easy to talk her into helping her younger sister break the rules. What did Julia think she was going to do?

It was almost three weeks before another summer storm came to Larkin Mills. Alexandra had been checking weather reports eagerly each morning, and when the forecast called for thunder and rain at the end of the week, she began checking hourly, knowing how inaccurate Muggle weather forecasts could be. She wished she could afford a Weatherglobe, like the ones for sale in the Goblin Market.

Thursday morning, she woke to rain rattling against her window and a black sky outside. The weather was perfect.

“Want to go out, Charlie?” she asked.

The raven refused to untuck its head from beneath its wing.

“Stay here, then.” Alexandra rummaged through her closet until she found her raincoat. It was bright yellow and several years old. It only reached down to her knees and looked like something a younger girl would wear. Frowning, she tossed it on the floor, and took out her red all-weather cloak instead. A little strange for wearing around a Muggle neighborhood, but who else would be out in weather like this? She shrugged it on and went downstairs to grab a bagel for breakfast, and stopped when she found her stepfather drinking coffee at the kitchen table, wearing a bathrobe.

“You're not going to work,” she said.

“Day off, and damn good thing, too.” He grunted and gestured outside. “I tried to talk your mother into calling in sick, but she's already at the hospital.” He eyed Alexandra in her long, red cloak. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Out.”

“In this weather?”

She started to tell him she was going to the library, but remembered that the library wasn't open yet. She floundered, trying to think of a credible reason to go out in the middle of a rainstorm. “I'm just going to Brian's house.”

Archie paused, with his coffee cup in front of his face. “You finally made up?”

Alexandra didn't know why Archie said 'finally,' and she was surprised and annoyed that he was even aware of whether or not she was friends with Brian.

“Yes,” she mumbled, flushing in irritation at the clumsy lie.

Archie's heavy brow furrowed. “His mother is home, isn't she?”

“Of course she's home. She's always home.” Mrs. Seabury was a housewife. She'd often babysat Alexandra as a child, though Alexandra suspected grudgingly; Mrs. Seabury had never liked her, though she'd never been mean to her. Alexandra fished in her pocket and held up her cell phone. “I'll have my phone with me, okay?”

“Well, all right.” Archie squinted at her cloak. “What is that?”

“A cloak,” she said. “Doesn't it look cool?”

“If you say so.”

Alexandra snatched a bagel and a trail mix bar and left the house, pushing the door shut and grimacing as the rain hit her full force when she stepped off the porch. She glanced over her shoulder and wondered if Archie would be watching out the kitchen window. Just in case, she walked down the street toward Brian's house, in the opposite direction from Old Larkin Pond. She passed the Seaburys' house, circled around the block, and on the next street over continued into the seedier neighborhood of Old Larkin. Only a few cars went by, and hardly anyone was out in the bad weather. A couple of people gave the teenage girl in the long cloak odd looks, but no one bothered her, and soon she had reached the underpass that went beneath the Interstate. The tunnel was dank and dripping, and as she proceeded down it, she saw small furry shapes scurrying away from her.

On the other side of the Interstate that ran along the southeast border of Larkin Mills was a long stretch of sloped fields and woodland, too uneven to make good farmland and so far untouched by development. Just out of sight of the highway was a small, brackish pond surrounded by cattails and weeds and thick brush. It was a smelly, muddy spot, but nonetheless Alexandra could see evidence of other people who'd been there: cigarette wrappers, bottles, and other trash. On a day like today, though, she expected Old Larkin Pond to be deserted, and it was. Normally she would have preferred to have Charlie with her to warn of anyone approaching, but she couldn't blame the bird for not wanting to fly in this weather.

Though she stood in the middle of a thunderstorm, her magical cloak and mud-repelling boots kept her mostly dry. All around her, weeds that had grown tall over the summer were being whipped by the wind and pressed to the ground by the rain. The wind also whipped her hair and made her cloak billow around her with the sound of a flag snapping in the breeze. Lightning struck somewhere close enough for the clap of thunder to deafen her for a moment. She eyed the nearest trees, twenty yards away, and decided to stay where she was.

With the toe of her boot, she dragged a crude, muddy circle in the greenish-yellow grass, then walked ten paces away and turned to face it. She could barely see the marks she'd made, and the rain would soon obscure them, but it gave her a point to concentrate on.

The study guide Julia had sent her talked about the basic mechanics of Apparating, but only a little about the theory behind it. Still, Alexandra didn't see how it could be that hard if any sixteen-year-old wizard could do it. Her problem was the need to improvise what she hadn't been trained to do formally. She'd improvised magic before – what her teachers called 'doggerel verse,' little rhymes she had composed to create her own spells before she'd ever heard of the wizarding world. She'd made things disappear or summoned them to her hand, transformed objects, opened locks, made her room hotter or colder... she even had a vague recollection of making the car stop once while her mother was driving, when she was younger and probably hadn't even learned to rhyme yet.

Every magical child performed acts of spontaneous magic when they were young and wandless, feats they might not be able to duplicate until they were fully-trained wizards. It was one of the ironies of magic, Alexandra thought: you had to go to school for years to learn to do things you did accidentally before you'd learned anything. But in comparing notes with her friends about their childhoods, few of them had ever tried to do magic deliberately before they were old enough. Apparently, when you were raised among wizards you just accepted that you might manage to do magic accidentally now and then, but you couldn't cast a spell on purpose except by luck. Not until you had a wand.

Except Alexandra had cast a lot of spells on purpose before she'd had a wand. Not all of them had worked, but she had learned to use 'doggerel verse' and continued to use it even after going to Charmbridge, despite teachers telling her that it would hinder her ability to learn magic 'properly.' She had yet to find that that was true.

She didn't know if she could Apparate with doggerel verse, but she hadn't found any theoretical reason why not. All it took was 'Destination, Determination, and Deliberation.'

She stared at the muddy circle in the grass, and concentrated, trying to feel every molecule of her body, placing herself in that little circle just a few steps away, imagining the space between to be an illusion, an obstacle no different than jumping over a chalk mark on the sidewalk, or jumping off the roof of her house when she was seven.

She chanted:

“I can go when I want.

I can go where I want.

I can go how I want.

Destination in my mind's eye,

Determination not to die,

Deliberation, before I fly...

Apparate!”

She blinked rapidly. She'd felt nothing. She looked down at her feet, and up again.

She hadn't moved.

Was it the rhyme? Magic didn't depend on the literal meaning of words, but maybe there just hadn't been enough of the 'three Ds' in her poem. The Apparition study guide had included exercises for fixing the three Ds in your mind. She didn't see how her destination could have been off; she was staring right at it. Had she not been determined enough? Had she not deliberated long enough?

She tried again, though she knew from experience that a reused rhyme almost never worked. Nothing happened.

Well, she'd known she might not succeed on her first attempt. That was why she'd composed several rhymes. She created new destinations: a pyramid of small stones she piled next to the water, an 'X' made of sticks laid carefully in the mud, and an impromptu heptagon she created by dragging seven fallen branches from a copse of trees and laying them end to end in the grass. Each time, she stood a few paces away and tried a new rhyme, holding her wand tightly but making no gestures with it.

Nothing happened; she might as well have been a Muggle.

After an hour, water was seeping beneath her magic cloak, and she was getting very wet and terribly frustrated. Why wasn't it working?

As she stood there, with her wand at her side and an expression to match the drizzle and thunder around her, she heard a voice call, “Alexandra!”

She turned her head, startled. A figure in a dark red raincoat was moving along the trodden path through the grass from the freeway underpass down to the pond. She saw a bit of blond hair under the hood of the raincoat, and her mouth dropped open.

Brian?

What was he doing here? Was he nuts? Go away! she thought fiercely, clenching her wand. Go away! Go away!

When he kept coming, she wished for him to turn around or walk past her, then, desperately, that she could disappear back to her own home before he saw her.

She disappeared.

With a wrenching twist much worse than any time she'd been taken somewhere via Side-Along Apparition or Portkey, she reappeared high off the ground, wedged against the trunk of a tree with only a thick branch beneath her. The tree was just up the hill from the pond, and Brian was pushing his way through the grass to the muddy clearing where she'd just been standing.

Fiery pain erupted from her knees, and she gasped and clutched at them. They felt odd, and when she tried to shift her position, her legs bent the wrong way, causing another flare of pain. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Then she saw bloody red smears across her knees where she'd just grabbed them. She held up her hands. The fingers of her right hand were still curled around her wand, but the fingers of her left were splayed open.

“Aaaah!” she exclaimed.

Her fingertips were missing – all of them. Everything above the third joint of all ten fingers was gone, and from the severed ends, blood was oozing – not spurting or gushing, as if her fingertips had been sliced off, but welling up slowly, forming glistening red bubbles.

She slipped and tried to wrap her oddly-bending legs around the branch. Light-headed with shock and pain, she desperately wanted to Apparate back to the ground.

“Alexandra!” Brian shouted.

Damn him! He'd heard her cry. Had he actually seen her disappear?

“Go away!” she shouted, as he began running up the slope toward the tree where she was perched. She slipped some more and clutched at the branch with her free hand, her shortened fingers scraping painfully against it. She gulped, and chanted another charm she'd composed ahead of time:

“I shall not fear,

I shall not fail,

I shall not fall...”

She fell.

She was almost thirty feet up. She hit the ground with a crack that made her black out.

She couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few seconds, because when she opened her eyes again, Brian was kneeling over her.

“Oh my God,” he said. “Alexandra!” His hands were hovering over her, as if he wanted to do something but was afraid to touch her. His face was pale.

“Go... away,” she mumbled. Her legs hurt worse than before. She rolled over, and bit down to keep from screaming as the bones in her right arm ground together and sent white-hot pain through the limb. Her head and neck also hurt. Amazingly, her wand lay by her hand, unbroken. Water was dripping from the tree and soaking her and Brian.

Brian's eyes widened when he saw the blood trailing from her fingertips.

“I-I-I don't have a phone,” he stammered. “I'll go for help.”

“No!” she said. It was irrational – what else could she do but let someone come get her? She certainly wasn't going to stand up and walk away from here. Maybe she could Apparate home. She laughed, causing Brian to stare at her fearfully.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, through clenched teeth.

He didn't seem sure how to respond. “Just lie there – I'll run, fast – I'll flag down someone on the Interstate –”

“No!” she repeated, and grabbed the front of his raincoat. He looked down in horror at the bloody stumps of her fingers. She let go of his coat, and lay back on the wet ground. She was beginning to shiver.

“Maybe I could carry you,” he suggested.

“I have a cell phone,” Alexandra said.

“What?” Brian gaped. “Why didn't you say so?”

“Because she's a foolish, stubborn girl.”

Brian jumped. Alexandra twisted in pain, while Brian rose to his feet and faced the woman in the long black overcoat who had come up behind him.

“Please, ma'am, we need help,” Brian said. “My friend's been hurt –”

“Yes, I can see that.” The woman had no umbrella, but the wide black witch's hat on her head was keeping the rain off her head. Her hands were in the pockets of her coat. She withdrew one, and beckoned at Brian. “Come here, young man.” Her other hand stayed in her pocket.

“Leave him alone!” Alexandra said. Both the woman and Brian turned to stare at her.

Diana Grimm smiled at her. “Alexandra, you need to lie still.” Her voice was calm, but there was a warning glimmer in her eye.

“You... know each other?” Brian said.

Alexandra said, “Brian, get out of here. Now.”

“What?” He looked increasingly confused. Alexandra felt a flash of anger accompanying the pain. Why couldn't he just do as he was told?

“That's right, Brian,” Ms. Grimm said. She turned to him. “Go home. Everything is fine. I'll take care of Alexandra. She's in no danger. You should just go home and not worry anyone by mentioning this.”

Brian blinked. “Okay.” He looked at Alexandra again. “Are you sure?”

Alexandra stared at him, and then gave Ms. Grimm a searing look. “What –?”

“Tell him it will be all right, Alexandra,” Ms. Grimm said. “Do you really want to complicate this situation further?”

Alexandra was shivering, and she was soaked to the skin now.

“It'll be all right,” she said, in a trembling voice. “Go home, Brian. I'll be fine.” She had no idea if that was true, but Ms. Grimm was right – this was already a bad situation, and Brian staying here, or calling her stepfather and bringing him here, could only make it worse.

Brian nodded. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I'll see you later, I guess.”

He turned and trudged away. Neither Alexandra nor Diana Grimm said anything until the boy was almost out of sight.

“Just like that, you can make anyone do what you want?” Alexandra said.

“Not just like that. A Confundus Charm is powerful, but it can't force someone to do something they really don't want to do. Your friend almost forced me to take stronger measures.”

Alexandra groaned, and the woman knelt next to her.

“You're a foolish, foolish girl.” Diana Grimm grabbed Alexandra's left wrist and held it up, looking at the blood still oozing from her missing fingertips. Pain and shock was setting in, along with the horror of being maimed. Alexandra felt tears spilling from her eyes, however hard she tried to control them.

“You've splinched yourself, and quite badly.” Ms. Grimm looked down at Alexandra's legs, and with her other hand, felt gently along her thigh. Alexandra didn't protest, but hissed when the Inquisitor's hand touched her knee.

“You left your fingertips behind, and you arrived with your knees backward. It would serve you right for me to leave you like this.” Grimm took her wand out of the pocket of her coat. “Hold still, and close your eyes. This will be a little tricky; it's been a while since I've had to do a Reversal Charm.”

Alexandra closed her eyes and held still; that was easy. Ms. Grimm muttered a few incantations and touched Alexandra's fingers with her wand. Alexandra's hands turned numb. Following that was a sharp pain in her legs that made her spasm and almost scream. Her knees felt like they'd been twisted like socket wrenches.

“Well,” said Ms. Grimm, “that's taken care of. Splinching is actually easier to fix than broken bones. Those are going to be a problem.”

Alexandra opened her eyes and looked at her left hand. Her fingertips had been restored. Cautiously, she flexed her fingers. It didn't hurt. Trying to bend her knees sent another jolt of pain through her legs, and her right arm felt like hot needles had been stabbed through it.

“What were you doing, spying on me?” she asked.

“I came to see just what you were up to, with all that spellcasting. You thought you were being clever, didn't you?” Ms. Grimm smiled at Alexandra's angry expression, and looked up at the dark clouds overhead. The rain had begun to taper off and there wasn't so much lightning anymore, but the air still shook with occasional distant rumbles. “You found out that scrying is difficult in a thunderstorm – perhaps Valeria White told you that? But she didn't tell you it would help you avoid the Trace, did she?”

Alexandra said nothing.

“The Trace is different,” Ms. Grimm said. “It's fixed on you, and no storm will obscure it. The Trace Office was aware of every spell you've cast for the past few days, and reported each one to me.”

Alexandra winced. Pain and humiliation. She wasn't clever enough after all. “So what are you going to do now?”

Ms. Grimm pointed her wand again. “Ferula.” The spell conjured a wooden rod that fell to the ground perfectly parallel to Alexandra's leg, followed by bandages spinning out of thin air. The bandages snaked around Alexandra's leg and the wooden rod and drew tight so suddenly that Alexandra jerked, though the pain was much less than she expected. The bandages cinched themselves and just like that, her leg was splinted. It still hurt terribly.

“My car is parked on the shoulder, about a mile away. I'm going to Apparate there and take you with me. It's going to hurt, because a recent splinching makes you more sensitive to Apparition, and on top of that, you're quite a mess as a result of your fall.” Ms. Grimm took her hand, the one attached to the arm that wasn't broken, and put her other hand on Alexandra's shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Alexandra said.

She wasn't. The Apparition made her bruised and broken bones feel like they were being squeezed by iron fingers. She didn't scream, but it was all she could do not to whimper as she found herself lying in the soft mud off the Interstate exit, at the turn-off to a nondescript back road that went past Larkin Mills and on to the next town over.

Ms. Grimm stood and opened the passenger's side door. “I'm going to levitate you into my car.” She tilted the passenger's seat back as far as it would go, and with a wave of her wand, Alexandra floated off the ground.

“Tergeo,” Ms. Grimm said, followed by “Exaresco.” All the mud and dirt flew off of Alexandra, then a billow of steam erupted from her, leaving her dry and clean.

“I just had the upholstery cleaned,” Ms. Grimm said, as she floated Alexandra into the car and let gravity settle her into the seat. She reached across her to fasten the seat belt, then walked around to the driver's side and got in.

“Where are we going?” Pain and confusion had sapped Alexandra's will to protest.

Ms. Grimm started the engine. “You need a Healer.”

“You're taking me to a wizarding hospital?”

The car's wheels spun for a second in the mud, and then the car jerked forward and gained traction on the firmer surface of the asphalt.

“Not exactly,” said Ms. Grimm. “I'm taking you to see your sister.”

She drove the car screeching across the exit in a completely illegal crossing and turned left onto the on-ramp on the far side. The car's bouncing and acceleration made Alexandra grit her teeth in pain as they roared onto the Interstate, heading away from Larkin Mills.