It was looking to be an unusually warm September. The Physical Education teacher ushered the Cassiopeia and Perseus girls out onto the running track, despite the moans of 'It's our first lesson!' from the girls.

It was much too warm to wear tracksuit bottoms. Both Milady and Constance huddled together in a cubicle to change; they'd gotten to the age where they were self-conscious enough to want to change away from the other girls—although Constance's self-consciousness was for a different reason altogether—and they figured that if they were going to be sharing this lesson for the entire year, they may as well change together.

Neither knew where to look. After all, they were almost thirteen and being almost thirteen is a very difficult period. Constance tried to stare at Milady's feet, but she was worried it'd get mistaken for staring at her underwear, and in a moment of embarrassment, turned to face the wall.

It was a slightly easier—and considerably less embarrassing—situation.

They hurried out onto the running track with the rest of the girls, where the coach told them they'd be doing two laps. Constance started out in front of Milady and, as both girls started to reluctantly run, Constance's socks slid down her legs.

Milady almost stopped. The back of her friend's legs were black and blue with various bruises. That wasn't normal, she thought. Sure, she knew Jacques was a kicker, but he couldn't have been that bad, right?

Milady, with her heart pounding in her chest, stayed behind after Alchemy. She didn't trust him—not after learning what he did to her father—but he was Constance's father, and her safety was incredibly important, and at the moment Milady was worried for her friend.

Flamel waited until the very last student—including Athos—had left before he spoke.

'Anne? Is there something I can do for you, my dearest?'

'I'm worried about someone,' she admitted.

Flamel's eyebrows shot up and, concerned, he turned his full attention to the twelve-year-old, who was nervously fiddling with her blazer sleeve.

'It's a student,' Milady continued. 'She's in Perseus and she's got auburn hair …' Milady paused, knowing the alchemist would catch on to who she was talking about. A soft gasp escaped Flamel's lips. 'In Physical Education today I saw bruises all over her legs. Normally I would assume she was being bullied … but I have reason to believe she's being abused, sir.'

For a while, Flamel said nothing. He seemed overcome with a great sadness; his face had greyed and he could barely look at Milady.

Out of the silence, he spoke softly and hoarsely: 'Thank you. You're dismissed.'

Milady wanted to stay and comfort him—it seemed the right thing to do—but she knew that if there was any time to do as she was told, it was now.

The lunch hall was packed full to bursting, and the Arcturus first-year adjusted her bag over her shoulder. Craning her neck in an attempt to look for her friends, she spotted the Cassiopeia boy and Perseus girl sat in the corner of the hall. Beaming, the girl hurried over to them. 'Hi, Sylvie!' grinned the Cassiopeia through a mouthful of today's special, spaghetti Bolognese.

'Hey, Thomas,' replied Sylvie, beginning to wrestle her hair into the hair tie she'd just produced from the zip in her satchel. 'You, uh, got something there.'

'Oh, right.' Thomas wiped his mouth with his sleeve. 'What're you getting for lunch?'

'I dunno. I think I'll get the stew.'

'I 'ad that,' Flea put in enthusiastically. 'It were good.'

Thomas chewed his spaghetti thoughtfully as Sylvie hurried to join the steadily-growing queue. 'You know that girl my brother's friends with?' he asked. 'The one with brown hair, yeah?'

Flea folded her arms. 'Yeah. What about her?'

'D'you think she'll go out with me?' he pressed. 'She's really pretty.'

Flea scoffed. 'Yeah right. She's a—a second-year, and we ain't even been 'ere a week.'

'Still,' protested Thomas, 'she might want to go out with me.'

'You got tomato sauce all over ya face,' she said evenly. 'Even I wouldn't wanna go out wiv anyone wiv tomato sauce all over 'is face, an' I'm from the Court.'

Thomas huffed, just as Sylvie arrived, holding a tray of stew and a bowl of strawberry jelly. 'What're we talking about?'

'Thomas got a crush on a second-year,' Flea filled in. ''Cept she's way outta 'is league.' She paused for a moment. 'Talkin' o' them second-years … Porthos was bein' real shady this summer. When 'e went ter Aramis's he came back wiv some papers an' he wouldn't lemme look. He said it were homework, but it wasn't 'is handwriting—well, most of it weren't, anyway.'

Thomas leaned forward excitedly, pushing his plate aside. 'You don't think they're up to something, do you? My brother and his friends?'

Sylvie turned her nose up at this. Taking a bite of the stew, she said firmly, 'We shouldn't meddle in their business. We can make our own fun.'

'But what if they're doing something wrong? We might be rewarded for catching them!' Thomas looked delighted at the thought of it. Always feeling overshadowed by his brother, he longed to be the favourite child.

'Sounds boring,' muttered Sylvie. 'Who wants to be all goody-two-shoes? If you want to stop them doing whatever it is, then why not prank them?'

Thomas tilted his head in consideration of the idea. 'Well, yeah … I guess we could do that.'

'I guess?' echoed Flea. 'That'd be great! Imagine all the stuff we could do to 'em! Me an' Porthos an' Charon—he's a fourth-year now—used ter have prank wars all the time before 'e went to Louvre!'

'Great!' Sylvie beamed. 'Let's do it, then!'

The bus back to the Sirius dorms was mostly empty. Louis de Bourbon and his sister sat at the back. Louis's arm was draped around his sister's shoulder.

'How're you enjoying school so far? I haven't had very much time to see you,' he added apologetically.

'Neither has Dad,' mumbled Elizabeth. 'But I like it a lot. I just had Computer Science.'

'Oh! Are you enjoying your subjects so far?'

Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically. 'I love History the most. M. Treville is so lovely!'

Louis laughed softly. 'Yes, he is. He makes everything seem a little less nerve-wracking.'

'I just wish I had some real friends.'

Instantly, Louis was reminded of Constance. 'Maybe you could make friends with some of the second-years? Your friends don't just have to be the same age as you, you know.'

'Maybe,' agreed Elizabeth, smiling a little.

The bus slowed to a stop and both siblings got up, thanking the bus driver as they left. 'Anyway,' said Louis, 'grab some food from Matron. It'll make you feel better.' He wanted to tell her about Treville's hot chocolate but part of him, no matter how much he cared about her and wanted her to have friends, didn't want his little sister intruding on his time with his friends at Treville's. It felt wrong.

He watched Elizabeth go into the first-year house and then he entered the second-year house, joining Feron in the common room.

Above him, smiling knowingly, was the portrait of an elderly, wizened man, his eyes twinkling at the pair of oblivious students.