Tiffany took a long sip of tea. "So there is a war going on, where you came from?"

"Yes. I'd rather not talk about it." Lying on Tiffany's bed, Hermione hugged her knees, staring into space. "In my world, some witches and wizards are descended from other witches and wizards, but others are born to nonmagical families. My parents aren't – weren't – magical, so they call me a Mudblood. Our enemy hates Mudbloods, and especially me, because my friend is prophesied to either kill him or be killed by him."

"Care for a biscuit?" Tiffany handed her a tin. They had been talking for quite a while now, and she was still trying to figure out what to do with this refugee. However, a large part of being a witch was knowing how to take care of people.

"I'm still feeling sick. Torture will do that to you."

"You've been tortured? Where?"

"There's a curse of pain that leaves no scars."

The idea made Tiffany wince. She poked the fire for a while, hoping to see something helpful in the embers. All she saw were lambs. Then –

"Two girls together, feeding the lambs," Tiffany mumbled.

"What?" Hermione yawned. "What are you going to do with me?"

"We're going to see Granny Weatherwax tomorrow."

"Is she a head witch?"

Tiffany chuckled. "Witches on the Disc don't have leaders. She's just the best witch around."

"Is she nice?"

"No. She's good, though. Tell me more about yourself."

Hermione talked about adventures and school, a real school like the people in the city went to. A school in a castle! Tiffany could hardly imagine it. She'd been to Lancre Castle, and she had spent most of the time gaping. Hermione didn't seem to have many friends. Just two, really, and both boys. She talked about those for a while.

"It sounds to me," Tiffany cautiously commented, "that this 'Harry Potter' is taking all the credit for your efforts."

Hermione frowned. "No, no! He's a hero."

"Mm hmm. Are you sure? When I saved Roland from the Queen of the Fairies, everyone refused to believe it and thought he saved me, just because I'm a girl. I don't know what they thought he was doing for the years he was missing. We've been friends since, though. Let people believe what they want, as long as the two of us know what is going on." She paused and patted Hermione's hand. "I just need to make sure that you know what is going on."

"You have it all wrong…"

Tiffany put down her mug and ticked off the points with her fingers. "The first year you knew him, it was only you who knew how to solve the logic puzzle. It was only you who could find the name of the alchemist. The only thing that saved him when he was on his own was the love his dying mother left him, and that was not his doing. He was just lucky."

Hermione began to look dismayed.

Tiffany continued with the air of someone picking apart a knot. "The second year you knew him, you were the one who figured out where the basilisk lurked. The third year, you possessed the Time Turner that saved Sirius Black and the hippogriff. You figured out that your professor was a werewolf. He managed, what, one spell? In later years, he managed things better, but mostly by sheer luck and recklessness."

"Courage!"

"Stupidity."

With a long sigh, Hermione closed her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. "Fine! Fine! Yeah, I resent it. He gets to be the Chosen One, and I'm the sidekick. He's had a horrible life, though."

"I understand that. It is commendable that you helped him for so long. But I think it might be time for you to be your own woman. Doing real witches' work."

"What?"

Tiffany did a double take. "I didn't mean to say that. It sort of slipped out."

It would be nice to have an assistant – or…said her Second Thoughts.

Someone intelligent to talk to. The Feegles are dears, but they accomplish things by hitting them with their heads, her Third Thoughts continued.

"Can I see your magic? Do you think you have the strength?"

Hermione fished out her wand and fiddled with it. "I could try something simple. Lumos."

The wand lit up.

Tiffany nodded in approval. "Should you wish to stay, you could probably be very useful."

"I can lift things."

"Such as?"

"That cheese, Harold –"

"You heard me wrong; his name is Horace."

"Oh, okay." Hermione pointed her wand at Horace, who was sleeping at Tiffany's feet. "Wingardium Leviosa."

Without waking up, Horace floated up past Tiffany's head.

"Ooh, that could be very helpful. Do you think you want to stay here? We're always on the lookout for new witches."

"I need to go home."

"Really? What do you have there? Your friends?"

"I don't know if they're alive." Hermione yawned. "I think I should sleep on it. Do you want me on the floor?"

"No, you're all battered. I'll sleep in the chair tonight."

Oddly enough, they were both thinking the same thoughts as they fell asleep. It's nice to talk to a smart girl my age, for once. I could get used to this.