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Jane's first night in her new bed was swallowed in weird dreams of roaming the castle in search of her classes, climbing stairs that led nowhere, following strangers who vanished through walls like so many ghosts, opening whole corridors of doors that all led to the same broom closet... She kept crossing paths with Ludo Bagman, who was always laughing at her for being lost. "You'd have to have grown up with the Muggles," he would guffaw, "not to know your way around Hogwarts!" At length, and quite by surprise, at the stopping-point of another dead-end stairwell, she encountered Remus Lupin. He was still as young as he had been in the old photograph Irene had shown her on the train, and he looked exactly like himself, except that he had the ears, and tail, and whiskers of a cat. He thanked her for the Nearly-Headless Nick trading card, and was so excited over it that he turned completely into a cat and leapt on her shoulder to rub against her cheek...

Jane woke with a start at the touch of a very real, feline tongue on her neck. "Llwthyr!" she yelped; Angharad's stupid cat was snuggled up to her, kneading her shoulder and purring in her ear. "Get off!" Jane grumbled, sitting up. Llwthyr responded by curling up on her vacated pillow. She considered shouting for Angharad to come and fetch him, but she could hear the other girl snoring across the room. Peeping through the bed curtains, she realized that it was daybreak, and decided she'd might as well get up.

Polly Allbright was already dressed, and was sitting on her bed with the curtains looped back, a book spread in her lap. "Hi," she whispered, when she saw Jane stirring, and Jane gave her a friendly good morning in reply. At this point, there was a rap at the door, and Julia Manners' voice floated through it.

"Wakie, wakie!" The Prefect came into the room. "Rise and Shine!" Seeing Jane and Polly already up, she headed for Irene's bed and threw back the curtains. "Good morning, Sunshine!" Irene sat up, yawning and ruffling her hair, as Julia did the same to Angharad's bed. Angharad gave a snort and shoved her head under the pillow. "Now, now, Miss Jones," chirped Julia, calmly stripping the blankets off of her, "the dew is on the grass, the spider is in her web, time for all good little witches to greet the day."
"Go away," mumbled Angharad, drawing her knees up, then she squeaked, "Ouch!" as Julia pinched her toes and sweetly caroled, "On your feet, fairy princess!" Coming back to the middle of the room, the Prefect addressed them all. "Hurry and dress, Professor Flitwick is waiting in the Common Room. He wants to have a look at his new students before classes begin. Come along now, spit spot, spit spot," Miss Manners twittered, fluttering toward the door. "I'll wait in the passage to take you down. Hurry along."
"Gaaah," Angharad groaned, once the door had closed, "she makes my teeth hurt. Look how early it is," she exclaimed, getting a glance at the window. "What decent person is up this early?"
"Come on," Irene urged, brushing her hair, "we'd better do as she says. We don't want Professor Flitwick taking points from us before we've even started. Besides, I'm hungry; I wonder what's for breakfast."
"I don't suppose they have Chocoriffic Weetos," Jane couldn't suppress a grin.
"What's that?" Irene asked, lighting up with curiosity at the sound of it.
"Muggle breakfast cereal. You'd love it."

When they were all washed and combed and in their robes, Julia took them down to the Common Room. Jane had been wondering what Professor Flitwick would be like, but she was thoroughly astonished by the tiny little wizard who awaited them. He was smaller than Angharad, and with his white hair and pointed hat, he looked for all the world like the garden gnome that stood on the front stoop in her father's old photos of Tweedy's Farm. He gathered the new first years around him and went around the circle, matching names to faces. Jane was glad of this, for she hadn't really met most of the boys yet. Aubrey Liang looked Chinese, but he spoke English with a mild Liverpudlian accent -- So did Polly, Jane realized for the first time, and, recalling that she had seen them next to each other in the sorting line, sitting together at the dinner table, and now standing together in the Common Room, it finally occurred to her that they had probably gone to wizarding grammar school together -- a fact confirmed by Flitwick's quizzing of them. Jane wondered how many of the students had already known each other, and how many, like herself, had known no one. The other two boys in their class had also been hanging together since the sorting, and there was apparently a good reason for that, as well, as they were identified as Jonah and Milo Kettlesmith. Professor Flitwick perused them with curiosity and gave voice to the same question Jane was pondering. "Curious... you don't look like twins..." They didn't even look like brothers; Jonah was half a head the taller of them, with lank, dust colored hair, and a vaguely horsey face, where Milo was smaller, crisp-featured and handsome, with touseled, chestnut hair.
"We're not, sir," said Jonah, and Milo, without missing a beat, finished, "We're cousins."
"Ah!" Flitwick was catching up to them, "the Kettlesmiths of Kent, of course. Let me see, now, one of you must belong to Henrietta Doolittle, I seem to recall that she married a Kettlesmith."
"That's me, sir," Milo smiled proudly; "She's my mother."
"Is she, indeed? In that case, I shall have high expectations of you," the Professor's eyes twinkled as he shook his finger at the boy. "Hetty was one of my best students. I'm pleased to see you in her old house. I'm pleased to see all of you here," Flitwick cast his bright eyes over them. "You look like an exemplary group to me; I expect great things of you. Now, go and get your breakfasts, you have a busy day ahead! I shall see you later in charms class."

He left them in the Common Room, and Emrys Mathews, the tall, thin Prefect with the ragged hair, rounded them up and herded them off to the Great Hall for breakfast. Along the way, the first years were talking about Professor Flitwick when Kevin Grahame asked, "What is he, anyway?"
"He is your head of house," Milo snapped abruptly, "and that is a very rude question."
Kevin flushed pink and stammered, "I didn't mean anything by it, I only wondered--"
"I know," said Jonah, in a kinder tone, "but you shouldn't ask things like that about people. Not your fault, you wouldn't know, but--"
"It's bad form," finished Milo, not quite as sharply this time.
"Besides," remarked Freddy Shrike, with his little smirk, "they don't know the answer, anyway."
Milo's eyes flashed angrily at him, but Jonah laughed it off and changed the subject. "I wonder what's for breakfast? If it's anything like dinner last night, I'll be too stuffed to walk to class."

There were no Chocoriffic Weetos. Irene looked mildly disappointed, but managed a healthy portion of porridge and sausages instead. Unlike last night at dinner, when they had been scattered among the upper years, the first years congregated in a group at the foot of the table, chattering among themselves. Jane was between Irene and Kevin, as she had been at the sorting, with Freddy opposite her again, and she was just reaching over for the marmalade when she let out a screech and shrank back in her chair. Standing on the table, next to Kevin's plate, was a fat, dark brown rat regarding her with twitching whiskers and beady black eyes.
"Oh, don't mind him," said Kevin, "he's mine. Alfred said I could carry him with me," he added, as Jane was still wincing at the verminous little beast. "He's got one, too, see?"
Kevin pointed down the table at the curly-haired fourth-year boy who had patted Jane's back last night, and she saw that he had a rat of his own, a tan-and-white patched one, sitting on his shoulder nibbling a piece of muffin. This did not make her feel any better.
"I wanted an owl," Kevin was explaining, "but my mother went off on this lecture about pellets and droppings and feathers all over," he rolled his eyes at the memory. "And my little sister's allergic to cats. So I ended up with a rat. He's really smart, though; I'm trying to teach him some tricks."
"Is he friendly?" Irene asked, noting, "Angharad's cat doesn't like me."
"Oh, he likes anyone who feeds him," Kevin laughed. "Wave a bit of apple at him, he'll come running."
Irene took a piece of fruit to try it, and asked, "What's he called?"
"I named him Wilkins," said Kevin, as the rat watched Irene with curiosity and began to venture around the far edge of Jane's plate toward her. "After Mr. Micawber."
"Who's that? A friend of yours?" asked Freddy, offhandedly, as Irene coaxed, "Here, Wilkins, come get the nice apple."
"No," Kevin looked surprised by the question. "From David Copperfield."
"I don't believe I've met him," Freddy craned his neck to scan the students lining the far end of the table. "Which one is he?"
"David Copperfield!" exclaimed Kevin, as if he couldn't believe he was having this conversation. "The book! You've never read David Copperfield?"
"I've never heard of it. What is it, some Muggle book?" There was no cruelty in Freddy's tone, but there might as well have been for the response it drew.
"No, it's not Some Muggle Book! It's the greatest book ever!"
"There's no need to shout at me," Freddy sniffed, looking genuinely hurt. "I asked a question, that's all. I don't shout at you for asking questions."
"Sorry," Kevin sighed. "It's only... Well, it's sort of weird being the only one with a Muggle family, I guess."
Angharad, who was sitting across from him, waved her spoon in Jane's direction and said, "Jane Tweedy's from a Muggle family."
She said it without malice, but Jane turned pink when Freddy looked at her with narrowed brow and said, "No, she's not."
"Yes, I am," said Jane coolly. "Is there a problem with that?"
"No," said Freddy, pensively. "I'd never have thought it, that's all. You don't look it. And you were so chummy with Bagman last night, I assumed--"
"I am not chummy with Ludo Bagman," Jane sniffed. "I got stuck in a compartment with him on the train. After he nearly killed my owl. That's all."
"Are you really Muggle-born, though?" Kevin asked her eagerly. "Where are you from? What's your dad do?"
"I'm from York, and my parents own a photography shop. My father's a photographer, a very good one, and I'm going to be one, too. And my mother is descended from a long, long line of wizards," she directed this at Freddy, "only one of them was a squib, and that's why we didn't know about them until now. And no," she answered the question she suspected Kevin was opening his mouth to ask, "I've never read David Copperfield. But I know what it is."
"What line of wizards?" asked Freddy. "Are you descended from?" he clarified, when Jane looked at him.
"The Pryces," she answered loftily, but she was surprised when he raised his eyebrows in recognition.
"You don't say. That's why you don't look Muggle-born," he realized; "you look like that spooky old painting..." Jane wondered how he knew about the spooky paintings of Orpheus and Lucretia, but instead he said, "what's her name? Medea Pryce. She was on the board of St. Mungo's Hospital, where my mother works, oh, two or three centuries ago."
"Your mother's at St. Mungo's?" asked Aubrey Liang, who was across from Irene. "What's she do there?"
It turned out that Aubrey was interested in a wizarding medical career, and he and Freddy got off into their own discussion of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Irene, meanwhile, had persuaded Wilkins to eat from her hand, and was happily stroking and cooing over him.
"Jane, look, isn't he precious? And his fur is so soft; here, feel him."
"I'll take your word for it," Jane declined, still shrinking from the rat.
"He won't bite," Kevin assured her, but Jane resolutely kept her distance.
"What's the matter?" asked Angharad, not rudely, but out of genuine curiosity. "You're not afraid of rats, are you?"
"No, I'm not afraid of it," Jane tried to sound convincing. "I'm not accustomed to thinking of them as cuddly pets, that's all."
"Really?" mused Angharad. "They're all over where I come from."
"Where are you from?" Kevin asked her, then added hastily, "Unless that's another rude question."
"Of course not. I'm from Llancwllyn. That's a wizarding village in north Wales," she explained, for the unenlightened.
Irene glanced up at this and said, "I thought Hogsmeade was the only all-wizarding village in Britain."
"Oh, well," Angharad reconsidered, in an airy tone, stirring another dollop of treacle into her porridge, "I suppose there are one or two Muggle families about. Hardly enough to notice. And they're not really locals; they've not been there more than two or three centuries. Morning post's here," she noted now, abruptly changing the subject, as the first of a steady stream of owls came swooping into the Great Hall. They dropped like autumn leaves as they found the recipients of the letters and parcels they carried. Jane scanned the cloud of feathers anxiously, but Eglantine was not among them. Oh, well, she supposed it was too soon to expect a reply. Eglantine was, no doubt, perched on the back of her father's chair in the Tweedy kitchen in York, enjoying a toasted muffin. Copernicus arrived, however, tagging along with the other owls; he was carrying nothing, of course, since he had not been dispatched anywhere yet, but he landed by Irene's plate and eyed her sausages hungrily. Wilkins, at the sight of the owl, stiffened, and scuttled back a bit, shifting his weight as if he hadn't yet decided whether to make a run for it. Coppy spotted him, let out one excited hoot and flapped his wings eagerly; that was all the rat needed to see before making a dash for the safety of Kevin's robes.
"Hey!" said Kevin, folding both hands protectively over his pet. "Your owl doesn't eat rats, does he?!"
"No!" exclaimed Irene, anxiously, as Copernicus, still hooting insistently, flapped over to Kevin's chair and shoved his wide-eyed face down at the quivering lump under the boy's robe. "I mean," Irene qualified, "I don't think he does... Oh, Coppy, come here, leave poor Wilkins alone!" she jumped from her chair to fetch him.
But Copernicus had done nothing so far but hoot and trill in his own, funny way, and Wilkins, at this point, actually wriggled out of Kevin's grasp and poked his whiskery nose out. To their surprise, he began to squeak at the owl in what could only be thought of as a friendly manner. Coppy and Wilkins hooted and squeaked back and forth at each other while their owners watched. "It's almost as if they're talking to each other," Irene marvelled, and Jane could have sworn she had seen Wilkins shake his head ‘no' in response to some oddly hooted question. Coppy seemed to lose his enthusiasm after this, but he and the rat, from all appearances, ended their discourse on friendly terms, and the owl flapped back to Irene's place to nick a bite of her sausage.
"Wow," murmured Kevin, as Wilkins hopped onto the table again and begged for a grape. "Do all magical pets carry on that way?"
"I've never heard of it before," Irene confessed, "and my parents are experts on magical creatures." Regarding Copernicus with a puzzled expression, she remarked to her owl, "I really would like to find out where you came from someday." Copernicus gave her that owlish laugh of his, and snapped up another bit of sausage.

The first day of classes was hectic. Lugging her books all over the castle, Jane wondered how soon Professor Flitwick was going to teach them that "feather-light" charm Arthur Weasley had used on her mother's desk. Charms was their first class of the morning. Professor Flitwick was a believer in "practice makes perfect," and went right to work on teaching them the proper care and handling of their wands. Jane loved her crabapple and phoenix feather wand; the tingle that went through her as she waved it, the sense of power it gave her, made her feel she truly was magic, and not just cracking books and scribbling essays in a really weird boarding school. At their first lesson, they learned Lumos and Nox, the spells that turned any wand into a handy pocket torch, and Professor Flitwick darkened the classroom so they could practice shooting and extinguishing their beams of light. Jane noticed that everyone's light was a little different; hers had a cool, blue cast, whereas Irene's was soft and greenish. When Kevin Grahame said "Lumos!" his wand burst forth with a blinding beam of sunshine-yellow that made them all jump, Professor Flitwick included. "Wow!" exclaimed Kevin.
"Wow is right," seconded Freddy Shrike, whose light had been the faintest, and embarrassingly pinkish. "How did he do that?" Freddy asked the Professor.
"Each wand produces its own light, as you can see," explained Flitwick, shading his eyes. "Nox that, Grahame, if you please," he requested, and Kevin complied, extinguishing his wand, as Flitwick magically reignited the candles that normally lit the classroom. "The light is influenced by the strength of the individual wizard, the composition of his wand, and the harmony between them."
"But, he's -- no offense, Grahame," said Freddy, "but he's a Muggle."
"He is a wizard, Shrike, no different than you," Flitwick shook his head. "The fact that his parents may be Muggles has no bearing here. May I, Grahame?" Professor Flitwick asked for the wand, and Kevin handed it over. "Ollivander's, of course, oak and...?" he looked to the boy to complete it.
"Unicorn hair," said Kevin. "Nine inches."
"A bit thicker than most," Flitwick pointed out. "But, what you lose in flexibility you gain in resonance. Another thing to bear in mind," the Professor addressed them, as he handed back Kevin's wand, "is that this is your first day. The point of this class is to teach you to focus your powers through your wands, to use them most effectively. You'll find, during your time at Hogwarts, that you each have your own aptitudes. I've known many a student who struggled with charms, but was most adept at potions, and the reverse is true as well. Play to your strengths, that's my best advice to all of you. Give your best effort at everything you try, but play to your strengths."

Jane wondered what her strengths were going to turn out to be. Transfiguration was not one, she learned that fairly quickly. Even though it also involved the use of wands, and spells, it was very difficult. Professor Dumbledore spent most of their first lesson giving notes, and explaining a lot of very complicated concepts, although he was patient with them, and careful to see that they were following his demonstrations. Near the end of the class, he passed around a bag of sherbet lemons and started them on transfiguring the sweets into thimbles. None of them got very far, although Polly Allbright had managed to get her sweet reformed into something resembling a lumpy, poorly-cast bowl. Professor Dumbledore reassured them that they were making a good start, and that they would see improvement with a few more lessons.

Potions didn't seem a good subject for her, either. Professor Penhaligon was the potions-mistress; she was by far the youngest professor they had encountered, a ghost-pale witch with heavy-lidded eyes, and long, glossy, unbound hair of a deep, royal purple. The color, they soon learned, was not natural, but a demonstration of the dyeing potion that was the basis of their initial lesson. "Always have the antidote at hand before you begin," she impressed upon them, in an ominous voice, passing out vials of clear, fizzy liquid as she instructed them to pair off and set up their cauldrons. "Psst, Grahame," Freddy Shrike had called him over, obviously hoping that Kevin's skill at lighting up a wand would extend to brewing potions, as well. They were an odd number, and Angharad ended up being the one left over. Professor Penhaligon tried putting her with the Kettlesmiths, but she and Milo started bickering over how finely their shrivelfig pits should be crushed. Angharad said, huffily, that she'd been helping her mother make potions since she was three and could do this just as well on her own, thank you, so she was allowed to work by herself. Jane was glad that she and Irene could pool their talents on this one; she felt competent enough at chopping up lavender roots and such, but Irene had a more careful touch when it came to adding things to the pot; Jane tended to dump and stir too quickly. When they were ready to test their potions, Professor Penhaligon brought out a basket of fluffy white kittens. Jane could feel Irene struggling against her impulse to ooh and ahh over them, as the Professor doled them out among the students. She was one short, since Angharad was working alone, but Kevin said, "That's all right, Freddy and I can use my rat."
"Is this safe, Professor?" asked Irene, cuddling their kitten. "I mean, it won't hurt them, will it?"
"Your potions should be harmless," the witch assured her. "We may see some unexpected results, but nothing dangerous. Unless one of you has inadvertently cooked up an Enlarging Potion, and we all end up running for our lives like so many mice," she suggested, with a creepy smile.
Jane gave Irene an alarmed look that said She's joking, right?, but nothing of the sort happened to any of them. Irene cooled a bit of potion in a saucer and coaxed their kitten into tasting it. To their delight, the potion worked -- more or less. The kitten actually turned purple, albeit a sort of splotchy, uneven purple, with white paws and tail. It was still better than the Kettlesmiths' kitten, who had only a couple of patches of lavender and some streaks of gray. Aubrey and Polly came out the best; their kitten was a nice, solid color that nearly matched the Professor's hair. Poor Wilkins the Rat fared the worst, only his tail and paws were purple, not his fur. Angharad's kitten was the most spectacular, with a rich, royal purple laid over her white fur in a striking bullseye tabby pattern. "There was no need to show off, Miss Jones," the Professor smiled in her languid way, but she awarded ten points to Ravenclaw for Angharad's success.

After lunch, they had Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lyme was a slightly built man, with thinning dark hair. There were circles under his bright, moist eyes, and deep lines around his mouth, that made him look older than he probably was. He had a way of fixing those unblinking eyes on you, and addressing you with a very soft, articulate voice, that made Jane shiver, and when he lectured them, he described the most horrible things with a calmness that made them even more frightening. He had looked with particular curiosity at Irene, when he took the roll, and had singled her out once during the class, remarking, as he was describing the habits of the Red Cap, "Of course, Miss Lupin is already aware of this, I'm sure, since her parents are experts in the field of dangerous creatures. She will not mind, I trust, if I recommend their books to you. Their research is very sound and informative. Although," the smile lines around his mouth deepened, "I must note that their more recent theories on Lycanthropy are -- unconventional, at best. You don't mind my saying that, Miss Lupin."
Irene was very tense, and her brow narrowed painfully as she whispered, "No, sir."
At the end of the lesson, Irene said quietly to Jane, "Wait for me outside, will you? I want to ask him something."
Jane did as her friend wished, and lingered outside the door while Irene went up to talk to Professor Lyme. She couldn't hear Irene's words, but the Professor burst out with a short, sharp laugh at them. He made no effort to suppress his own voice, and Jane caught most of his words, without trying.
"Give me a bit of credit, Miss Lupin; I'm not the heartless cur some people think I am. I only wish to let you know what I know. The subject is closed, unless you wish to pursue it."
Irene glanced over her shoulder at the door, and Jane pretended to be looking at a painting on the wall. Irene asked another hushed question, and this time Professor Lyme replied in a graver tone. "I'm afraid I'm with the Headmistress on that one, Miss Lupin. Dumbledore's got some cockeyed notions that it could be managed, but..." Lyme shook his head.
When Irene came out, she was silent, and subdued. Jane didn't press her for information, but remarked, "He's sort of creepy, isn't he?"
"Mmm," was Irene's only reply to this. "Come on, we'll be late for flying class."

The rest of the Ravenclaws were already on the lawn, along with a dozen or so other students. "Must be a double class," Irene was noting, when one of the extra boys waved at them and shouted merrily, "Come on, slowpokes, we're waiting for you!" It was Ludo Bagman.
"What do you mean, double class?" Jane asked, as they broke into a trot. "We have to learn flying with the stupid Slytherins?"
They had to learn flying with the Stupid Slytherins. Madam Hooch, sharp of eye and manner, had their broomsticks lined up and ready to go, and barked at them to take their positions next to the brooms. Pacing in front of them, she instructed them to hold out their right hands over the brooms, and say, "UP!"
"UP!" snapped Jane, and the broom rose, a little slowly, to a height where she could reach down and grab it. Only about a third of the students had commanded their brooms successfully on the first try, and Madam Hooch made them all drop the brooms to the ground and try again. This time, Jane's broom rose a little more quickly, although she still had to reach down and grab it. Irene was patient enough to wait for hers to rise to the proper height. Angharad, who was standing in the row in front of Jane, was almost yawning as her broom leapt into her hand for the second time. Ludo had snapped his right up, as well, and Kevin's had smacked into his hand so abruptly, he had yelped, "Ow!" Freddy was still trying to get his to do more than roll around on the ground, and so were some of the Slytherins, including bug-eyed Olivia Wilde, who looked ready to cry with frustration. "Madam Hooch, my broom is broken," she lamented.
"Your broom is fine, Miss Wilde," the instructor insisted, as it rose smoothly into her own hand. "Try again. You must address it firmly," she ordered all the students still struggling, and walked among them, correcting and advising, until they were all ready to go. The next step was learning to mount properly; again, it was easy to sort out the students who had done this before, and Jane noticed how impatiently Angharad was fidgeting in front of her. Jane, herself, upon mounting, swung right back off again and looked at the broomstick curiously.
"Is there a problem, Miss Tweedy?" said Madam Hooch, sharply.
"I don't know," said Jane, "is it supposed to feel funny?"
"What do you mean, funny?" Madam Hooch took the broom from her and examined it.
"Well, sort of -- thick -- and squishy. Where you sit," Jane wasn't certain how to explain it.
"That's the cushioning charm, Miss Tweedy," Madam Hooch handed back her broom. "Perfectly normal. All modern brooms have them."
"Ha!" laughed Ludo, who was within earshot. "If they didn't, you'd really think it felt funny."
Jane flushed red at this and wished she knew a good shutting up hex to throw at him. Madam Hooch was not amused, either, and snapped, "Another remark of that nature, Bagman, and it's five points from Slytherin."
Ludo turned pink and trotted out his most ingratiating grin, but it had no effect on either the instructor or Miss Tweedy. Jane mounted her broom again and got comfy while Madam Hooch made certain they were all situated and gripping properly. Standing in front of them again, she instructed, "When I blow my whistle -- wait for it, Miss Jones," she warned Angharad, "you will kick off from the ground, hard. Grasp firmly, keep the broom angled upward until you have risen a few feet, then lean forward slightly to come back down. Keep a steady course and do not travel more than a few feet. These are not the Quidditch tryouts, and show-offs will have points taken from their houses." She was looking at Ludo, and at Angharad, as she made this last comment. "All right, everyone ready?"
Madam Hooch sounded the whistle, and Jane launched herself into the air. One moment of dizziness swept over her as the broom lifted her from the ground, then her head cleared and, delighted, she soaked up the sensation of the breeze on her face, the glorious feeling of being airborne, the heady, heady freedom... A few feet -- Madam Hooch's warnings rang in her head, and reluctantly she eased forward and guided the broom to the ground.
"Did you see that!" Jane exclaimed, delirious, to no one in particular. "I flew!"
"You call that flying?" grumbled Angharad, looking like it might be worth twenty points from Ravenclaw to take a good zip around the castle.
Not in the least discouraged by this, Jane was still giddy and gushing, "I flew! I flew!"
"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Irene was glowing, as well. "That's the first time I've done it by myself; I've only been up with my mother before. Do you think she'll let us go again?"
"Ha," laughed Ludo, "as soon as they clear away the wounded."
Jane looked around now and saw what she'd missed. A few of the students were nursing bumps and bruises, and Olivia was crying in earnest while Madam Hooch checked over her scraped knee.
"Whoo!" Kevin Grahame joined their circle, wiping his glasses with his sleeve. "That was great!" His robes were disheveled and dirt stained, and he had grass in his hair.
"What happened to you?" Jane gaped.
"He's dangerous, that's what happened," said Freddy Shrike, but he was grinning ear to ear. "You didn't see him? He went off like an arrow! He was twenty feet up before you could blink."
"Yeah, but I didn't want to get in trouble, so I came back down..."
"Like an arrow," put in Freddy. "You can see where he plowed into the ground." Sure enough, there was a patch of turf torn up, and a gouge where the broom handle had hit the earth. "Good thing that whiny Wilde girl was screaming, or Hooch would have reamed him out for it and packed him off to the hospital ward."
"Are you all right?" Irene worried.
"I'm fine!" Kevin insisted, beaming. "I feel great! Can we go again?"

Once they were all on their feet again, Madam Hooch sent them up for a second try, this time in groups of four. After this round, she began to sort and separate them by their level of skill. Jane was proud to be placed in the A group. Madam Hooch taught them how to turn their brooms in the air, and let them practice on that while she worked with the B group, a few of whom were still struggling to get six feet off the ground. Freddy got held back with the Bs, and sulked about it.

Jane kicked off again and rose to about ten feet, where she went to work practicing her turns. She found that, if she jerked the broom handle too sharply to either side, it shuddered and kicked a bit, forcing her to hold tight and correct her pitch, and she worked hard at figuring out the right amount of push and pull needed to achieve a smooth turn.
"These brooms are trash," complained Angharad, zipping past her and looping back. "It's not fair they won't let us bring our own." Jane noticed, however, that Angharad was having very little trouble executing tricky spirals on the shabby school broom.
Ludo, who was turning lazy figure eights above them, heard the Welsh girl's comment and shouted, "What sort of broom have you got? At home?"
"Silver Arrow," she shot back, speeding up to his altitude and flying a circle around him.
"Silver Arrow?" Ludo laughed. "Must be an antique, they don't even make those anymore."
"It is an antique," sniffed Angharad, "and I wouldn't trade it. All hand-crafted, you couldn't buy another like it. It's better than whatever rubbishy broom you've got."
"I don't know," he puffed himself up and grinned proudly, "I've got a Comet 220; not the junior model, the real thing."
Jane had better things to do than hang around and listen to Ludo and Angharad brag about their broomsticks, and she flew off to catch up with Irene, who was practicing a serpentine move. She hadn't paid much attention to the others in the A group who were flying around, although she'd heard a scream or two, and had spotted Kevin a moment ago, sitting on the ground and shouting about something. She assumed he'd overdone it and crashed again, then, out of nowhere, another broom came diving down from above her, missing her so narrowly that the tail twigs brushed her shoulder. Jane squawked in alarm and, trying to get out of the way, wrenched her broom to the right so suddenly that it nearly rolled her off. The other rider was laughing at her, and she heard Ludo, somewhere behind her, shout in an angry voice, "HEY!" He came flying past her, and, as she got her feet on the ground and caught her breath, Jane saw that the dive-bomber who had nearly hit her was Cary Lovecraft, the pasty-faced Slytherin boy, and he was still laughing about it. "Knock it off, Cary," Ludo was glaring at him. "You're not funny."
A mousy little Slytherin girl, whose disheveled hair and robes showed that she'd been tumbled off her broom, as well, seconded this: "You'd better stop it, you're going to get us in trouble."
"What's the big idea, crashing into people like that?" demanded Kevin Grahame, flying over to join them.
"Just keeping you on your toes," Lovecraft cackled, completely unmoved by their collective anger. Ludo lunged at him and grabbed his broom handle, and for a moment, Jane thought he was going to flip Lovecraft off of it, but Madam Hooch's whistle from across the lawn put a stop to this. They all held their breaths for an instant, but she apparently had not witnessed Cary's antics, for she simply called to them to return to her and hand in their brooms. Class was over.

Jane was walking up the lawn with her Ravenclaw friends when Ludo came jogging after them and called out, "Jane! Wait up!" When she paused and looked back, he grinned and said, "Got a minute?"
Jane hesitated, then glanced at Irene, who was hanging back, and waved for her to go on with the others.
"What?" Jane asked, standing where she was until Ludo had closed the distance between them.
"Look, I'm sorry about that," he began, his round, blue eyes regarding her with what appeared to be sincerity. "Lovecraft, I mean. He's a git."
"I thought he was a friend of yours," Jane challenged.
"Not really. We were in grammar school together, the last couple of years, in London. That's all. This your first time up?" he asked her, and Jane nodded. "You're pretty good," Ludo told her. "You should go out for Quidditch."
"Oh, I don't know. I don't know anything about it, really," Jane declined, as she resumed walking toward the school.
"It's not that hard," he pressed, coming along with her. "I could give you some pointers."
"No, thank you," said Jane. "I'm really not interested in sports."
Ludo looked like he couldn't imagine such a thing as not being interested in sports. "By the way," he shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe, "there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."
"What's that?" Jane glanced at him from the corners of her eyes.
He trotted ahead a bit and got in front of her, bringing them both to a halt. "Yesterday, on the train..."
Was that only yesterday? Jane marvelled.
"Well, I tried to pull something on you that wasn't entirely fair," he admitted, pulling out the ingratiating smile again and rubbing his blond head in that sheepish way of his.
Jane planted her hands on her hips. "This is about Merlin and Morgana, isn't it? Irene told me what you were up to, Ludo. Do you always go around taking advantage of ignorant Muggles?"
"No!" he exclaimed, then considered how this sounded. "I mean -- I wasn't -- well, all right, I was, but... Look," he sighed. "We both know that Nearly-Headless Nick card is worth something, right? Well, I'm ready to make you a fair deal for it."
"Too late," said Jane, walking around him.
"No, now, wait a minute," he chuckled, scrambling after her and fishing in his pockets again. "Look, I'll give you a galleon for it. Really." He held up the coin for her inspection. "A whole galleon. Can't say fairer than that."
"I told you, Ludo, you're too late." She stopped again and faced him. "I gave the card to Irene's brother."
"What brother?" he looked perplexed by this turn of events.
"Her little brother at home. I gave it to Irene to send to him. He's collecting, and he's--" Jane didn't want to tell him about Irene's problems, not that it was her place to say anything, anyway. "Well, he deserves it a lot more than you do." And she stalked off again.
"Oh, come on, Jane," Ludo chuckled a bit, tagging after her.
"No," she snapped, exasperated. "You can't have the card, not for a hundred galleons, so just forget it."
"All right, all right," he raised his hands in surrender. "I don't mind about the card. But -- you're not going to spend the next seven years being mad at me, are you? I mean, if this is still about your owl..."
"Ludo," Jane stopped again at the foot of the steps and sighed, "what do you want?"
"I don't know," he shifted his weight and rubbed his head again. "I know we got off on the wrong foot and all, but -- I guess I was sort of hoping we could be friends."
Jane regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "You don't want to be friends with me. I'm not even in your house."
"Yeah, well, you've seen what's in my house," Ludo pointed out, with a half-smile. "Look, I'd settle for just not having you mad at me all the time."
"I'm not mad at you," Jane sniffed. Being mad at him implied that she was paying attention to him.
"Well, good," he accepted this, a bit uncertainly. "Honestly, though, you really should go out for Quidditch," he insisted, as they climbed the steps together. "It's a lot of fun, and I think you could be really good, with some practice..."

That night, at the dinner table, Jane asked Irene, "You haven't written your brother yet, have you?"
"No, not yet." Irene looked surprised by the question.
"Well, I wish you'd go ahead and send him that card," Jane told her. "Ludo Bagman's still pestering me for it."
"Oh, is that what he wanted."
"Yes, that, and a lot of butter for my bread about how I should go out for Quidditch."
"Maybe you should," Irene surprised her by agreeing with this idea. "Angharad is, and so is Aubrey Liang -- he played Wee Wizard League in Liverpool."
"Well, there you are," said Jane, "no point in my going out. Ludo said first years never get to play much, anyway."
After dinner, Jane and Irene went up to their dormitory, and Jane was delighted to find Eglantine sitting in the window with Copernicus, and a letter addressed to her on her bed. Eagerly ripping it open, she sat down and read:

Dearest Jane:

We were very glad to hear from you. Your father did nothing but worry from the time we left you at the station until your letter arrived. Of course, you know what he is doing as I write this -- he is stuffing that poor owl with sausages. Heaven only knows when she'll make it back to you with this. He hasn't stopped fussing with that funny card you sent. He keeps trying to work out the trick behind it. I told him it's not a trick, it's MAGIC, but of course he never listens to me.

I am very pleased to hear that you are in Ravenclaw. Of course, we would be proud of you no matter what house you were in (even Hufflepuff) but to my mind, Ravenclaw is the best choice for you. Your friend Miss Lupin sounds like a nice girl. If you'd like to bring her home some time when you are on holiday, we would be glad to have her here. Your father says to tell her she may bring her owl, as well. I hope he likes sausages.

By the way, we had an owl this morning from Arthur Weasley. He was wondering if you'd gotten to school all right, and how things were going for you. You might like to send him a note and let him know you are well. Never too early to make friends in the Ministry.

Write back and tell us how your classes are going. Your father wants to know if you've turned anything into a rabbit yet. We are fine, although it's not the same with our little girl gone. Mummy and Daddy send lots of hugs and kisses. Be good, and write soon.

Your loving,
Mother

p.s. Hello, Janie, glad to hear you're all right. We miss you here. Your mum did nothing but worry till Eglantine turned up with that letter. That funny card you sent is champion! How's it work? Do you have some more you could spare? Hugs from your old Dad.

Jane read this over twice, then sat down at her small desk to write back to them. She had just smoothed out the parchment, and was dipping her quill in the inkpot to begin, when there was a thump of little paws landing on the desk, and Llwthyr, purring at full volume, sauntered casually across the parchment and reached out to take a playful swat at the feathery quill.
"Oh, scat, you stupid cat," Jane grumbled. "Stop that!" she tried to get the quill away from him as he pounced on it. "Get off," she gave his shoulder a push, but he simply turned around and came back from another direction, pacing a tight circle on her parchment before he flopped down on it and began washing his face. "Fine," muttered Jane, dragging the parchment out from under him. Still purring, he climbed to his feet just enough to let her yank the sheet free, then he flopped onto his other side, stretching out with his back to her. Jane got settled again, and made an attempt to write around the cat. She had to sit right up against the desk to reach past him, and he snuggled his back against her chest, and settled his head on her left arm.

Dear Mum and Dad, she wrote. A long black tail swished across the page, thumping against her arm. "Llwthyr, stop that." Swish, thump, swish. Jane sighed. I flew today! We had our first flying lessons and -- A black paw shot out and batted the quill, leaving a streak of ink across the page. Jane sat back in her chair. "Irene!"
"What?" came her disembodied voice. She was sitting at her own desk, on the window side of her bed, and had witnessed none of Jane's struggle.
"Will you come get this stupid cat off me!"
"What's the matter, what's he doing?" Irene came around the end of the bed. Llwthyr flopped his head back onto Jane's arm and looked at Irene upside down. "Ohhh," she beamed, "that's so cute..."
"It's not cute," Jane insisted. "I'm trying to write to my parents, and he won't leave me alone."
"Oh, what are you doing, you naughty boy, are you bothering Jane..." Irene descended on the cat in full oogie-woogums mode, and to the surprise of both girls, Llwthyr suffered himself to be rubbed on the neck by her. "Look!" she exclaimed, lighting up with delight. "He likes me now!"
"Wonderful."
"Do you like me now, you pretty boy... yes, you do..." No he didn't. He simply didn't dislike her enough to let her chase him away from his true beloved. He shrugged off Irene's hand, got up, turned around, and laid down on Jane's other arm. His chin hit the desk with a thump when she jerked it out from under him.
"That's it." She got up, grabbed her quill and ink bottle, and a fresh piece of parchment. "I'm going down to the common room."
"Wait a moment, and I'll come with you," Irene begged, disappointed that she had failed again to win Llwthyr's feline heart. "I was just about to send Coppy off with my letter. I'm nearly finished with it."
"Don't forget the card," Jane reminded her.
"Oh, no, I've got that," she assured her, disappearing to the far side of her bed again.
Jane plopped back down in the chair and looked at Llwthyr, who was rolling on his back and regarding her with a come-hither look. "You are a pill, do you know that?" Jane addressed the cat, who blinked seductively in response. "You're a big silly pill. Yes you are." Hardly knowing what she was doing, she had let her voice go all soft and squishy, and began to idly scritch around his neck. "Yes, you are, you silly cat..." With a satisfied sigh, Llwthyr flipped himself onto his feet and hopped down off the desk. "Now, where are you going?" Jane asked him, but he did not look back, simply sauntered away, tail held high, to go take a snooze on Angharad's bed. "Well, isn't that funny," Jane remarked out loud, when she saw Irene go to the window with Copernicus.
"What's that?"
"Angharad was right. As soon as I gave him a pat, he got up and left."
"Come on," said Irene, once she had watched Copernicus go. "Let's go downstairs."
"You know," said Jane, as they closed the door behind them, "he's really not so bad, as cats go..."

Most of the other Ravenclaws were already down in the common room. On their way to find a quiet spot where Jane could write her letter, the girls encountered Kevin Grahame and Wilfred Shrike, sprawled comfortably in a pair of fat armchairs, each with his nose in a book. Jane and Irene were walking past them when Freddy piped up, "Heh, I swear Aunt Betsey is exactly like my 4th year teacher at Eggleston's."
"What are you doing?" Irene asked, pausing by his chair.
"Reading David Copperfield," Freddy held it up for her inspection. "Kevin let me borrow it. I swapped him for one of my Ambrose Armstrongs."
"What's that?" asked Jane.
Kevin raised his book, as well, and explained, "Ambrose Armstrong the Amazing Auror -- He's really neat, he fights dark wizards and has adventures and things. I guess you'd call him sort of the wizarding version of Sherlock Holmes. Freddy says there's a whole series of books about him."
"I've got about ten of them," Freddy nodded, and told Jane, "I'll lend you some, if you want. Everyone I know reads Ambrose Armstrong."
"Thanks," said Jane, "I might take you up on that some time." For now, though, she only wanted to sit down and write to her parents. There was an unoccupied desk against the far wall, wedged between two of the tall bookcases, and she made her way to it. Angharad was sitting at a nearby table, playing a game of cards with a boy Jane hadn't seen before. She hailed Jane and Irene as they came near, and pointed them out to the boy.
"That's them. The rest of my dormies. Jane Tweedy, Irene Lupin..." she nodded at the boy as she tossed a card on the table, "Llewellyn Jones."
"Llew," the boy made his preference known, and indicated Angharad with a cock of his head. "She's my little sister, but I hope you won't hold that against me."
"Pfft!" said Angharad, and scrunched her beakish nose at him. "Thinks he's clever just because he's a third year." Llewellyn, like Angharad, was small for his age; he was wiry, though, with sharp, foxy features and an unruly forelock of russet hair.
"Try your hand at a round of exploding snap?" he invited them, playing another card. "Pull up a chair, join us. The more players, the better."
"Not right now," Jane declined. "I came down here to write a letter. I tried to do it upstairs," she looked pointedly at Angharad, with a poorly suppressed smile, "but someone's cat wouldn't leave me alone."
Angharad giggled, and told her brother, "Llwthyr's taken quite a fancy to Jane. Come on, Irene, you're not busy, are you? Sit down."
Irene accepted the invitation and sat down at the table with them for a game. Jane settled herself at the desk and finally went to work on her letter.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I flew today! We had our first flying lesson, and it was wonderful! We all got to go up on brooms. You can't imagine what it's like, being up in the air, with the breeze in your face. I suppose that must be how Eglantine feels, being an owl. It's lovely, flying. I'm good at it, too. Madam Hooch, the flying teacher, put me in the "A" group with all the best flyers, and most of them had been up before, where it was only my first time. Some of them have their own brooms and everything. Not at school, of course, we're not allowed. But, next year, you know, we can bring brooms with us. I think it would be nice to have a broom of my own next year. Ludo Bagman says I should go out for Quidditch. That's a game they play here. I don't really know much about it, yet, except there's a lot of flying. I told him no. But I suppose I might go out next year. If I have a broom then. The only bad thing about flying class is that we have to practice with the Slytherins. There's this awful Slytherin boy called Cary Lovecraft, he was in the "A" group with us, and was going around dive-bombing everyone and trying to make us crash. He nearly knocked me off my broom! Ludo got mad at him and made him stop.

Oh, mum, guess what! We were talking at breakfast this morning, and I said I was descended from the Pryce family, and Freddy Shrike knows who we are! His mother works at a wizarding hospital called Saint Mungo's, and he says there's a spooky painting there of someone called Medea Pryce, who looks like me. He says she was on the board of the hospital, so she must have been someone important. She lived two or three hundred years ago, he says. Freddy and Kevin are so funny. They are sitting here in the common room right now, reading each other's favourite books. Kevin is the other one in my house with a Muggle family, and he doesn't know anything about wizard things, he's always asking questions. And I told you about Freddy, although I don't really think he's that snobby now. He's all right. But he's from one of those old ‘pureblood' families and doesn't know anything about Muggles. And here we are, one day in, and it's as if they've been best friends their whole lives. The really funny thing is, Irene said something about it yesterday, like she knew they were going to be friends, but you never would have thought it then. I think Irene is good at divination, even if she says she is not. Professor Flitwick says we should play to our strengths, but I don't know what mine are yet. Irene and I had to turn a kitten purple in potions class, and it came out all right, but not as good as some of the others. I like charms best so far, because I get to use my wand. Tomorrow we have herbology (magical plants), history of magic, and astronomy. Freddy's all excited about herbology. He was telling us at dinner tonight how he likes to help his grandmother with her garden, and he was rattling off all sorts of things about mandrakes and mooncalf dung and such. I'm very interested in the history class. I will let you know if we learn about any more Pryces.

Dad, I am glad you liked the card I sent. I'm sending you the other ones I have. I sent one to Irene's brother, because he is collecting them, and it was a card he was missing, but I am sending you the rest. I don't know how they work, either, but I want to learn to take magic photographs someday, so I suppose I will find out then. If you figure it out first, tell me.

The parchment is filling up, so I had better stop. I will write to Arthur Weasley when Eglantine comes back. I don't know if I can give her two letters at once. I love you both, and send lots of hugs and kisses. I'm sorry to be so far away, but this is so much better than my old school. I've made lots of new friends already, and the teachers are much better than Miss Crewe ever was, even Professor Lyme, who is sort of creepy, but he's Defense Against the Dark Arts, so I suppose he would be. Thank you for letting me come here, and I will try my best to make you proud of me. I think I am going to like being a Witch.

Lots and lots of love from your daughter,

Jane

THE END

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