-1Gwen Pennington was six years old and sitting on the floor in her empty bedroom, the charms on the ceiling and walls already fading. They had been bewitched to look like a forest because she loved being outside. At night, charmed stars covered the ceiling, watching over her sleeping form. All of her belongings had already been moved to the new house in Scotland, where her mother Mary waited. Her eyes- a mixture of green, blue and brown- were filled with bright tears. Her father's head suddenly appeared in the doorway. He saw her crying and walked over, kneeling on the floor.

"What's wrong, Gwen?" David asked, pulling Gwen into a hug and stroking her reddish-brown hair.

"I don't wanna move," she said into his chest. "Why can't we stay here? I like my room."

"Oh, honey," he sighed, lifting her up so her eyes meet his blue. "Grandma and Grandpa... have passed away." It was in the news, two wealthy New Yorkers killed by a drunk driver on their way home from the Broadway show. "We have no family here. Don't you want to be closer to your mother's family?"

"I guess." The child was still not convinced.

"Your new room will be just like this one. And you'll have someone to play with. Mommy's best friend lives next door and she has a son your age. His name is Oliver."

Her face brightened momentarily at the promise of a playmate, but she frowned again. "Boys have cooties."

This made her father laugh, and he looked deep into her eyes. "You look so much like your mother. C'mon, let's go."

He picked her up off the floor and carried her into the living room where a doll waited on the mantel. Gwen reached out for it, but her father pulled her hand away.

"Hang on a minute, that's a portkey. We'll both grab it on the count of three. One... two... three..." They both took hold of the doll and closed their eyes as the feeling of being grabbed by the belly button set in. When Gwen opened her eyes, she and her father were in the middle of the new living room, her mother only a few feet away.

"Mummy! I missed you!" Gwen leaned toward her mother, who gathered her small daughter into her arms and took her upstairs to her new bedroom. It looked exactly like her old room, charmed and everything. Gwen's mother kissed one cheek and her father kissed the other.

"Do you like it?" Mary asked.

"I love it! It's just how I remember it!" Her parents chuckled at this, since she had just left her old room. All of her belongings were already put away, so her parents left her to play with the old portkey doll.

A few hours later, after dinner, Gwen's parents put her to bed. "Good night," her mother said. "We're having a little get-together with the Wood family tomorrow, so make sure you're well rested." Each parent kissed her forehead before leaving the room. The stars appeared on the ceiling and Gwen fell asleep staring at them.

Gwen's mother woke her up the next morning, and after breakfast gave her a bath. She put her daughter in a dress and let her hair dry wavy, a shiny barrette on either side of her head. Gwen hated dresses. This one was white, knee-length, and sleeveless, with a white satin ribbon at the empire waist. Gwen scowled at her reflection, wondering how quickly she could sully the pristine garment, face twisted in disgust.

The Woods arrived at 1 o' clock: red-haired Maura, brown-haired Sean, and little Oliver. He was wearing a kilt. Gwen, being shy, held her mother's hand tightly and nearly hid behind her. Mary drew her out and bent down next to her. Maura did the same.

"Gwen, this is mommy's best friend, Maura."

"Oh, Mary, she's adorable." Maura extended her hand. "Hello, Gwen." Being polite, Gwen shook her hand and gave her a timid hello.

"And this must be Oliver. What a cutie, Maura! Gwen, come say hello," her mother beckoned.

As Gwen walked over to the brown-haired boy, Sean and David headed out back to the grill.

"Hello, Oliver," Gwen said.

"Hi, Gwen," he replied.

"Gwen, why don't you show Oliver your room? You can play with your legos," Mary suggested.

Gwen gave her mother a "boys are yucky" look before heading for the stairs to the second floor and her room. "Come on, then, Oliver," she called over her shoulder.

He followed, the mothers walking off to join their husbands, talking about how cute their children are. Gwen walked into her room, Oliver close behind, and the charmed sun on the ceiling cast a friendly light.

"I like your room," Oliver commented behind her.

"Thanks. Do you like legos?"

"Umm... what are they?" he asked.

Gwen rolled her eyes and pulled out a tub of legos. "They're building blocks." She gestured to a two-story house her dad helped her build that rested against one wall.

"Oh... cool."

She turned around to face him, shyness wearing off. "Why are you wearing a skirt?"

A hurt look crossed his face. "It's not a skirt; it's a kilt."

"Looks like a skirt to me," she retorted.

"Well... it's not."

The two played quietly for a while until Gwen's mom called up the stairs that it was time to eat. She put her legos away and the two children headed downstairs.

After lunch, Oliver's dad ran next door to get his son's toy broom, and brought one for Gwen. "A welcoming present," Sean and Maura said.

Gwen thanked them and just stared at it, not quite sure what to do. Oliver was already on his and "zooming" around the spacious backyard. Seeing this as an opportunity to dirty her dress, Gwen headed straight for a patch of dirt.

"Oh, Gwen," her mother called. "You will keep that dress clean, won't you?" That was hardly a question so much as a warning.

Gwen's grimace melted into the very picture of wide-eyed innocence as she turned to face her mother. "Oh, Mummy, I would never dream of dirtying such a lovely dress." She batted her long eyelashes, only adding to her angelic image.

Her mother raised an eyebrow in suspicion

"Precious little thing, isn't she?" her father chuckled.

"She gets that from you," his wife answered.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said lightly.

"Bet you can't catch me, Gwen!" Oliver called. "I'm going to be a Quidditch player."

Gwen mounted her new broom, answering his challenge, and started chasing him. The brooms didn't go very fast and only hovered a couple of feet off the ground, so she quickly caught up to him. She moved up next to him and stuck her tongue out at him. "Caught you!" They both started laughing.

Gwen and Oliver played together almost every day after that, and became best friends. He was almost like a brother to her. Almost.

It was a hot August day, and the young Gwen and Oliver, now seven, had retreated to the relative cool of the shady wooded area about two hundred yards behind their houses. A short distance within the wood, a small clearing opened up, allowing sunlight to shine down on a playhouse in its center. The two children had become more comfortable with each other, and, in the way children do, quickly developed such a close friendship that it seemed they had been friends since they came into the world. At the moment, though, they were squabbling over which game to play.

"We're playing house," Gwen insisted, stomping her foot. She held the old portkey doll by one hand, its feet dragging in the dirt.

"No way!" Oliver protested. "Boys don't play house. Aurors and Dark Wizards!"

"House!"

"Aurors and Dark Wizards!"

Gwen turned on her heel, long hair whipping out behind her, and stormed into the house, slamming the door the best she could. Ignoring her companion's shouts, she sat at the table for two and set it for tea. Humming to herself, she pretended to pour a cup of tea, and put a bib on her doll. Oliver burst into the house, stick in hand, using it as a play wand.

"Freeze, in the name of the Ministry!" he cried.

"That's not what Grandpa says," Gwen said with haughty calm.

"Then what does he say when he arrests people?"

"I don't know, but that's not it."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Fine. You're still under arrest."

"You can't arrest me if I'm not playing," Gwen argued.

"You have to play," Oliver insisted.

"I don't have to do anything you say."

"Yes you do."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yes-huh."

"Why?" she asked.

Oliver drew himself up and puffed out his chest. "Because I'm the man, and what I say goes."

Gwen sniffed loudly. "That's stupid. You're not a man, you're a boy."

"Oh yeah? Then why does my mum call me her Little Man?"

"I dunno, but that's still stupid."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

"Is not!"

"We're not married, so you're not the boss of me," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Let's get married then," he said simply.

It was Gwen's turn to roll her eyes. "We can't get married."

"Why not?"

"We're too little, stupid." She rolled her eyes again for good measure. "Besides, you won't even play house with me."

He sighed heavily. "Fine, we'll play house then."

Gwen smiled to herself; she thought she had done that right. Her mother told her that the secret was to always let men think they had things their way while gently talking them around to the opposite. Maybe it wasn't exactly the way she had seen her mother do it, but Gwen got her way in the end.

"Now then, you're the daddy, I'm the mummy, and this is our baby," Gwen informed him. "I stay at home and you work at the Minstery as a --"

"It's the Ministry, not the Minstery," Oliver corrected.

"I said... Ministry," Gwen answered defensively.

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not!"

"Anyway," she continued loudly, "you've just come home from work, so go outside and come back in again."

"But I'm already inside. Why do I have to go out and come in again?" Oliver asked.

"Because that's the way it goes. You said you wanted to be married so you could be the boss, so we have to act like it. Now go outside and come back in again."

Oliver hesitated, obviously thinking this over, before rising from his chair and exiting the playhouse. He paused outside the door, thinking about what his father says and does when he comes home in the evening.

"Honey, I'm home!" he declared, pushing the door open.

"Oh, good," Gwen responded. "You're just in time for dinner, dear."

Oliver approached his "wife" and did as he had seen his father do: He bent down and kissed her on the lips. Gwen jerked back, scrubbing a hand over her mouth.

"Gross! What was that for?" she exclaimed.

"We're married, remember? That's what married people do!"

"But we're not married for real! Gross!" She got up and ran out of the house.

"Hey!" Oliver shouted, following right behind her with a hand outstretched. "You're the one who wanted to play--"

His hand touched her arm, and as soon as it made contact, a white light flared around them and they knew no more.

A short time later, their fathers came out to check on them, and found the children curled up on the ground asleep.

"I thought they were past the napping age," Sean Wood said as he picked his son up off the ground.

"They must have been playing pretty hard," David Pennington answered, bending down for his daughter.

Several multi-colored lights flashed and then disappeared in the bushes nearby.

"That was... suspicious," Sean remarked.

David looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. "You don't think they have anything to do with this, do you?"

"Could be. Mischievous little blighters, faeries."

"Well, if they did anything, it won't be anything harmful. We'll just have to wait and see."

July seventeenth, a hot summer day; Gwen's birthday. She was turning eight. Over the past two years, she had gotten to know her mother's family- and Oliver- better. She had half a dozen cousins or so, but they didn't like her. That's why she was in her room crying.

"What's wrong?" asked a voice from the door. She turned to see Oliver, her best friend. She knew she could tell him anything.

"They still don't like me," Gwen sobbed. "They think I'm weird because I like Muggle toys. And Muggle movies." She loved Disney films. "They keep calling me Squib."

He gave her one of those brotherly hugs she had grown used to. "They're just jealous because it's fun to play with Muggle toys and build stuff with legos instead of using magic for everything like they do."

"Really?" she asked, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"Really. Now come on, you haven't even opened your presents or had any cake." With that he let her go and headed downstairs. Gwen followed him outside where everyone was waiting. Some of her cousins snickered when they saw her tear-stained cheeks, but she tried her best to ignore them.

Gwen received a new toy broom, more advanced than the old one; a few books on magic for children; and various magical toys. After everyone else left, Oliver and Gwen were still "flying" around the yard. He was already a better flier than she.

"I'm going to be a Quidditch player!" he yelled over his shoulder, Gwen trying to catch up.

"I know!" she answered. "You say it every time we get on our brooms!"

"Do I?" he laughed. "Well... what do you want to be then?"

Then it hit her: she had no idea. Then again, she was only eight. She was about to tell him as much when he tumbled off his broom. He had been turning and his toes more than skimmed the grass, causing him to fall. Gwen went to help him up and saw that one of his knees was scraped. She helped him back up to the house and it was as if a light bulb flicked on in her head. "I want to be a healer."

After Gwen's mother patched Oliver up, the two friends sat on the couch eating leftover cake and watching Disney movies. He ended up staying the night, like he had done a hundred times before.

Gwen's mother let them stay up late since it was her birthday, so at eleven o'clock Gwen and Oliver headed upstairs to her room where sleeping bags were waiting on the floor.

"Where do babies come from?" Oliver suddenly asked.

Gwen turned to face him, startled by the question. "Well... Muggles say a stork brings a baby to a waiting mommy and daddy..." she spluttered.

"I don't believe that. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Wh-what? Mine and your what?" She asked nervously.

Oliver started pulling at his pajama bottoms, and Gwen clapped a hand over her eyes and turned around. "I'm going to sleep now!" With that she hastily climbed into her sleeping bag with her back to him.

He laughed and got into his own sleeping bag. "I was only joking. Just wanted to see your reaction."

Gwen gave him an exasperated sigh. "Good night, Oliver." The stars came out and they drifted off to sleep.