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Year One

Prologue

Catrin stared up at the orange bulb above her head. Around her, the night was soft and mellow, black twilight suffusing the street around her. The house in front of her was only just visible, windows reflecting a tangerine sheen back at her.

She had been watching the owners for several days now, watching and waiting for them to leave the house, watching and waiting for the opportune moment to strike. She'd selected them carefully: rich, selfish and spoiled. They wouldn't miss anything- if anything they needed a good shock.

She was so hungry. There'd been no food since the last raid, and that had been a week ago. The supplies in her rucksack had long since dwindled to nothing. If she didn't make it tonight, she'd not last another day.

Wrenching her mind back to the present, Catrin scowled at herself. Do it now, dwell on it later. She didn't want to get caught.

She switched her attention to the streetlamp above her head, letting its radiance suffuse her skull, feeling her heart thud in her head. She closed her eyes, and listened to her heartbeat.

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.

Chink-chink. Chink-chink. Chink-chink.

Catrin smiled, opening her eyes. The light flashed in. And out. And in. Pulsing in time with the blood in her veins.

She raised a hand, laying her palm flat against the cold metal of the streetlamp. The chinking increased in measure, and she could feel her heart speed up in response, fluttering like a bird's wings. Sweat broke out across her forehead, but slowly, deliberately, the other palm came up, onto the metal.

Catrin gasped; the pulsing had increased, her heart was racing, and she was racked with strange shivers. It was strangely exhilarating, and terrifying at the same time.

Chinkchinkchinkchink...

Then, with a sudden flare bright enough to burn the inside of her eyes, the streetlamp went out. The street was black; the night was quiet.

Catrin glanced around, running her hands through her hair. The back of her neck prickled uncomfortably and she spun around. Was someone watching her?

She strained to see into the pitch-blackness- the blackness that she had just created. She couldn't see anything...

So why did she have the feeling that something was there?

The desire for food battled against the desire for safety. In the end, food won.

Catrin turned back and sprinted up the stone path to the house. It was large, and the double-door looked imposingly down on her, black in the whitewashed walls like a gappy grin.

Quickly, she reached into one of the two pots that stood either side of the door, brushing away a fountain of purple flowers as she did so. Her hand fumbled around in the soft loam- then closed around the hard, icy key.

It took ten precious seconds to get the door open- through which all the time she frantically glanced over her shoulder. Fear and paranoia convinced her that there was something- someone out there, waiting for their chance to strike at the elusive 'Streetlamp Sneak'. Oh god, were they getting closer? Was she going to die? Was she-

The door clicked open, and she hurtled inside, locking it securely behind her.

She waited on the other side, breathing heavily, slumped against the hard wood. Eventually her breathing slowed and her heart- still pounding from breaking the lamppost- returned to normal.

Slowly, Catrin let out her breath in a gusty sigh.

Now that the sense of danger had past, her stomach rumbled angrily, bringing her back to the present. Cautiously, she looked around.

It was undoubtedly grand: a chandelier hung over a wide, carpeted staircase. A vase of flowers was set next to an archway, through which she could see linoleum and a gleaming work surface. Catrin sighed; it had been so long since she'd lived in a place like this. She could only barely remember it...

The kitchen!

Shouldering her rucksack, which contained everything she owned, she headed through the doorway into a forest of chrome and steel. A newspaper blared its headlines at her from the steel table: Lamppost Lightfingers Baffles Cardiff!

Cardiff: her real home. Though the streets weren't very comfy. She was planning to get to London soon, though, hopefully to evade the police for a little longer.

Lightpost Lightfingers Loots London. She thought wryly.

Heading for the cupboard, she efficiently stripped it of it's cannage. The fridge was next: heading over to it, she opened it, letting the yellow light play over her features.

"You know, I've always loved refrigerators. So fascinating, how Muggles manage."

Catrin's heart nearly failed her. She spun around so fast that the room became a blur, so fast that she almost missed the tall figure in the middle of the kitchen. Stupid! She berated herself. You shouldn't have been too hasty- you missed him! And now the owner will call the police!

"I'm sorry..." She gasped. "I...I was...I'm starving! I only wanted some food. Not valuables! Honest! Please..." Her voice cracked. "Please don't call the police!"

"I have no intention of calling the police, Miss Jones. I'm here to talk to you."

Catrin flinched at the sound of her name by the stern voice.

"Who...who are you? How do you know who I am?"

"All in good time." The dark shape moved over to the doorway, and suddenly the light flicked on.

The two scrutinised each other underneath the harsh light. Catrin saw a tall, woman with hair tied back severely into a bun. An emerald green dress fell in folds to her feet, accessorised by a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. By contrast, she felt grubby and self-conscious under her piercing gaze.

"I am Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School. I am here to offer you a place at my school."

"School?" Catrin could only stare at her blankly.

"Yes. But not just any school. Hogwarts is a school...for people with special abilities. It is a school...for magic."

"You're mad." Catrin blurted out. Here she was, in the middle of someone's house, discussing magic with a complete stranger!

"Mad?" The woman raised her eyebrow, and withdrew what looked like a long stick from the folds of her dress. She flicked the stick, and suddenly the cupboard doors burst open, spewing out food from their depths. They all arrayed themselves neatly in a line in front of McGonagall. In the air.

Catrin could only gape at McGonagall. Suddenly what she'd been saying didn't sound nearly so ridiculous.

"Magic?"

"That's right."

"But...I'm not magic. I'm homeless. I...I have to steal for a living. If I was magic, I'd be rich!"

And Mum would still be alive. She added silently.

"Magic isn't like that." Annoyance spiked in the woman's voice. "You are inexperienced. Unschooled. You need training: training only a place like Hogwarts can provide. It is a year-round education- a boarding school. You need not worry about food, shelter."

"I haven't got any money." Of all the excuses!
"That can be arranged. Hogwarts has a fund for students. Some of the clothes and robes will be second-hand, of course, but you will have the necessary equipment."
"I'll be able to do...what you just did?"

McGonagall smiled- an involuntary twitch of the lips. "That and more."

"And I won't have to sleep on the streets? I hate stealing."

"No."
Catrin paused. Was this real? What McGonagall had shown her seemed pretty conclusive. If this was a joke- or a trap- they were going to extraordinary lengths to fool her. What if they'd gotten it wrong? And what if they'd send her back? She was heading into the complete unknown...

But anything was better than living like this, even if only for a few days.

"Then I'm coming."