The Winter of 1943 was bitter and cold.

Tina had been writing Mary nearly three times a week since Halloween. It seemed as if Tina was more homesick for Mary than Mary was homesick for home. Newt sent his regards as well, sometimes combined with his wife's, sometimes on his own. Mary's owl, Persephone, seemed to return well fed and groomed when she swooped down to drop packages or letters in the Great Hall.

Every now and again, Mary would avoid meals and study in the library. The library was like a ballroom, with great windows and rows and rows of books. The librarian was fond of her to be sure. And within a week, a ghost girl seemed to be rather fond of Mary as well.

"Anya," the ghost had said when she encountered Mary for the first time.

Mary had bowed her head slightly and replied, "Mary Scamander."

"You're rather peculiar," the ghost told her. She was thin and young, maybe eleven. She had light colored hair and a pale complexion that were only highlighted by her ghostly pallor. Anya told Mary that she was born in 1915, which was not even 30 years ago, Mary noted.

Having had brushed off the peculiar remark, Mary continued to search through the books. Anya swept her body around Mary's and looked over the dark-haired girl's shoulder.

"The Whistlers' Guide to Magic," Anya read rather annoyed to have been ignored.

Sensing the irritation, Mary tried to make an effort. "Yes. I'm doing all I can to learn magic."

"But you're already- you must be good. You're in Hogwarts. They wouldn't let a squib in."

"A squib. A non-magical born to wizards?"

"Exactly," Anya confirmed. "Squibs are often looked upon as Black Sheep in families."

"That's not very fair," Mary said in reply.

Anya shrugged. "It's the way it is." She floated off to a nearby table and then through the ceiling.

Mary shook her head and went to the same table and sat down.

A similar exchange occurred the next day.

Anya seemed to be a constant presence whenever Mary was in the library, which only bothered Mary for the first week. Anya eventually proved herself a rather friendly character, and much more knowledgeable than she appeared. In fact, she could recite spells and charms and explain potions to Mary when she was reading. However, she seemed very disappointed when Mary asked how she could have known about the lesser known aspects of magic. Between the two of them, Anya confided that she could hear the wind speak as well. That she able to roughly understand birds, even if she couldn't to the same extent as Mary.

Mary seemed to brighten when informed. She couldn't believe she wasn't alone. By the second week the two had been acquainted, Anya had become Mary's fastest friend, and for that matter, the most stable and maybe only friend.

In addition, there were the scarce few who offered Mary some safety from the cruelty of bullies and injustice.

Whenever Tom saw her in the hall, Mary felt a rush of cold in her veins. In response, Allie, the prefect from the Sorting Ceremony, seemed to come to Mary's rescue. It wasn't entirely clear how Allie knew that Mary was in trouble, but she always came around. Not only that, but Allie had been a godsend when it came to questions about how things worked. The meal schedule had been brutal in the Fall because there wasn't a solid idea of when you could eat. It seemed to be classes all day until suddenly, in sync, everyone filed to the Great Hall for meals. Allie, who hated whenever anyone had the audacity to call her Alivia, walked with Mary down the corridors the first two days that they didn't have classes at the same time. Eventually Allie started to fade out, either because Mary had to learn how to do things on her own or because Allie had to attend to other issues.

So now Mary was struggling in the daytime making social interaction happen.

There were four other girls in her room with her.

She was told that they would be the same girls every year, which Mary didn't seem to upset with. They were nice enough. They just didn't invite Mary to eat with them usually. Probably, Mary thought, because she was so off-putting. No one would want to hang out with a freak who conversed with her bird and breakfast and got letters regularly from mummy and daddy.

There was one a year above who was often preoccupied with the current muggle events that Mary found particularly interesting. Her name was Felicity Bluestone and her mother was American. Since the year was 1943, the Second World War was underway. Many students were receiving word from home about family members, but few so often as Mary. And in Mary's case, they weren't even about the war.

Anyways, Felicity seemed to be bumbling through classes that she had previously received high marks in. Everyone was muttering how she may be sent home. Mary didn't believe that Professor Dumbledore would let that happen. She was too good at Transfiguration for him to not reach out to her.

That was Mary's life at Hogwarts until Winter, when she was to go home and be with her parents over holiday.

Mary was just fine with that, even if Anya was a little annoyed. Anya was to the ghosts what Mary was to the students: ostracized. In Anya's case, it was because she was so young for a ghost. She hadn't seen enough in the world of the living to be knowledgeable in the world of the dead.

"But they'll make fun of me when you're gooooone," Anya complained.

"Then go talk to Helena," Mary suggested. Mary had never tried to have a conversation with Helena, actually, but she wanted to. However, Mary wouldn't know exactly what to say. Helena, Mary knew, had a tragic past. One with another ghost in the castle. But no one talked about it in respect, apparently.

"I can't talk to Helena. She doesn't like me. And also, she's called the Grey Lady! Mary, don't go!"

You have to remember that Anya is eleven, Mary reminded herself. That's younger that you are. And you miss home, and you don't have friends, and you… she stopped herself.

"I have to go, Anya," Mary said sadly, "but I will see you soon. I'll be seeing you when I return from break," she tried to reassure.

Anya, clearly upset but also understanding, nodded and swept herself through the ceiling of the library, where Mary dropped some books in the book return and went to pack.