Chapter 7

Giselle Gold – who Would Later on go on to be Known as one of the Worst Teachers this School has Ever Known (Well, Apart From Darryl Umber , That is)

KIARA

The morning after the events of the previous day with the car, however, I barely smiled once. Things started to go downhill when we entered the Great Hall for breakfast. The six tables were laden with porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling, which today was a dull, cloudy grey (how little did I know that that ceiling exactly fitted my mood by the end of the day). Chrissie and I sat down at the Lion-Heart table next to Sian and Chris. Chris greeted us with a friendly "Good morning" when we sat down; Sian, on the other hand, carried on reading her edition of Voyage with the Vampire propped open against a milk jug. There was a cold stiffness in the way she said "Morning", which told me and Chrissie that she still disapproved of the way we had arrived. Beth and Kestrel greeted us just as cheerfully as Chris had done, so that was all right.

"Post's due any minute – hope Dad'll send us some sweets from home," said Kestrel.

I had only just started on my porridge when, sure enough, as Sian shouted "Mail call!" there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the Hall and dropping packages and letters into the chattering crowd. A few large baskets filled with sweets landed in front of Sian, and a second later, something large and grey fell into Sian's jug, splashing us all in milk and feathers.

"Arrol!" said Chrissie, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Arrol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Oh no –" Chrissie gasped.

"It's all right, he's still alive," I said, prodding Arrol gently with the tip of my finger.

Chrissie was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to me, but the Dawsons and Chris were eyeing it as though they expected it to explode.

"What's the matter?" I said.

"Ma's sent her a Howler," Sian said, "and by the looks of it, it's in her handwriting, too."

Chrissie groaned.

"You'd better open it, Chrissie," said Chris in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. Ma sent me one once, and I ignored it. It was horrible."

"Ma's Howlers are the worst ever," said Kestrel, as Beth nodded.

I looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" I asked.

But Chrissie's attention was fixed on the letter, which had now begun to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Chris urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes …"

Chrissie stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Arrol's beak and slit it open. Chris stuffed his fingers in his ears. A few seconds later, I knew why. A fiery form of Professor Crighton rose out of the letter, glared at Chrissie and then began to speak. I thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"… STEALING THE CAR, I COULD HAVE EXPELLED YOU, BUT I DIDN'T THROUGH MY KINDNESS, YOU WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND JOEY WENT THROUGH WHEN THEY SAW IT HAD GONE AND CALLED ME …"

Crighton's yells, a hundred times louder than normal yelling – and which seemed strange to me, seeing as she usually spoke so calm – made the plates and spoons rattle on the table and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the Hall were swivelling around to see who had received the Howler and Chrissie sank so low in her chair that only her brown forehead could be seen.

"… I CALLED YOUR FATHER LAST NIGHT AND TOLD HIM WHAT HAPPENED, AND HE TOLD ME HE ALMOST DIED OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND KIARA COULD BOTH HAVE DIED …"

I had been wondering when my name would come into it. I tried very hard to look as though I couldn't hear the voice that was making my eardrums throb.

"… ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED, YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT, AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, THEN NOT ONLY WILL I EXPEL YOU, BUT YOUR FATHER WILL COME AND BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!"

Crighton then screamed and burst into flames along with the envelope and a ringing silence fell. And that was the first and only time in my life that I had heard Crighton yell like that, and the words that she said have remained in my mind for a very long time after that, as they would with anyone. Anyhoo, after the explosion of the Howler, me and Chrissie sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over us. A few people laughed and gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Sian put down Voyage with the Vampire, looked at me and said, "And that is why you don't want to get a Howler from our mother, Kiara." I nodded at her in understanding, before she smiled grimly and looked down at the top of Chrissie's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected Chrissie, but you –"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Chrissie.

I pushed my porridge away. My insides were crawling with guilt. Mr Dawson was facing an inquiry at work. After all Sian and her father had done for me that summer …

But I had no time to dwell on this; Professor Darbus was moving along our table, handing out timetables. I looked down at mine and saw that we had double Herbology with the Badger-Stripes first.

Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch and made for the greenhouses where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Sian had seemed to think that we had been punished enough and was being friendly again.

As we neared the greenhouses, we saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Spud. Chrissie, Sian, Chris and I had only just joined them when he came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Giselle Gold. Spud's arms were full of bandages, and with another twinge of guilt, I spotted the Bashing Tree in the distance, several of its branches in slings.

Professor Spud, or "Spud" as he preferred to be called because he hated the term Professor, was a plump wizard who wore a patched hat over his curly hair; there was usually a large amount of dirt on his clothes, and his fingernails would have made Aunt Mavuto faint. Giselle Gold, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, her golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Oh, hello there!" Gold called, beaming around at us assembled students. "Just been showing Spud here the right way to doctor a Bashing Tree! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than he is! Just so happens to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels …"

"Greenhouse Three today, dudes!" said Spud, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all his usual cheery self.

There was a murmur of interest buzzing between all of us. Before this point, we had only ever worked in Greenhouse One before – Greenhouse Three hosted far more interesting and dangerous plants. Spud took a large key from his belt and unlocked the door. I caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer, mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. I was about to follow Chris, Sian and Chrissie inside when Gold's hand shot out.

"Kiara! I've been wanting a word – you don't mind if she's a couple of minutes late, do you, Spud?"

Judging by Spud's scowl, he did mind, but Gold said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in his face.

"Kiara," said Gold, her large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as she shook her head. "Kiara, Kiara, Kiara."

Completely nonplussed, I said nothing.

"When I heard – well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

I had no idea what she was talking about. I was going to say so when Gold went on, "Don't know when I've been more shocked. Flying a car to Dragon Mort! Well, of course, I knew at once why you'd done it. Stood out a mile. Kiara, Kiara, Kiara."

It was remarkable how she could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when she wasn't talking.

"Gave you a taste of publicity, didn't I?" said Gold. "Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again."

"Oh – no, Professor, see –"

"Kiara, Kiara, Kiara," said Gold, grasping my shoulder. "I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste – and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head – but see here, young lady, you can't start flying cars to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! "It's all right for her, she's an internationally famous witch already!" but when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with She Who Must Not Be Named!" She glanced at the flame-shaped scar on my forehead. "I know, I know, it's not quite as good as winning Wizard Weekly's Most Dazzling Smile Award five times in a row, as I have – but it's a start, Kiara, it's a start."

She gave me a hearty wink and strode off. I stood stunned for a few seconds, and then I remembered that I was supposed to be in the greenhouse, I opened the door and slid inside.

Spud was standing behind a trestle bench in the centre of the greenhouse. About thirty pairs of different coloured earmuffs were lying on the bench. When I had taken my place between Sian and Chris, he said, "We'll be re-potting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Sian's hand was first in the air.

"Mandrake, and Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Sian, sounding as though she had just swallowed the whole textbook, as per usual. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed, to their original state."

"Eldest D-Girl's right. Ten points to Lion-Heart," said Spud. "Now, the Mandrake is an essential part of most antidotes. However, it is also dangerous. Can any of you tell me why?"

Sian's hand narrowly missed my head as it shot up again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Eldest D-Girl strikes again. Take another ten points," said Spud. "Now the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

He pointed to a row of deep trays as he spoke and we all shuffled forwards for a better look. A hundred or so tufty plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to me, and I didn't understand what Sian meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake. But I would in a few moments.

"Right then, peeps, grab you a pair of earmuffs," said Spud.

There was a scramble as we all tried to grab a pair that wasn't fluffy and pink.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Spud. "When it's safe to remove them, I'll give you the thumbs-up. Right – 'muffs on."

I snapped the earmuffs over my ears. They shut out sound completely. Spud put a black pair over his own ears, rolled up the sleeves of his robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

I let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Spud took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in the dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Spud dusted off his hands, gave us the thumbs-up and removed his own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet," he said calmly, as though he had just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "Howev's, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your 'muffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Five to a tray – there's a large supply of pots here – compost in the sacks over there – and be careful of the venomous Tentacula – its teething."

He gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as he spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over his shoulder.

Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were joined at our tray by a curly-haired Badger-Stripes girl I knew by sight, but had never spoken to before then.

"Justine Cole," she said brightly, shaking my hand. "No need to ask who you are, of course, the famous Kiara Pride-Lander … and you're Sian Dawson – always top in everything …" Sian beamed as she had her hand shaken too. "Chris Rickers, close behind Sian with grades, and Chrissie Dawson, Sian's twin, though you'd never know it by sight. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Chrissie didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on her mind.

"That Gold's something, isn't she?" said Justine happily, as we began filling our plant pots with dragon-dung compost. "Awfully brave woman. Have you read her books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered into a telephone box by myself, but she stayed cool and – zap – just fantastic.

"My name was down for Meols Cop, you know, I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed; but since I made her read Gold's books I think she's beginning to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained witch in the family …"

After that we didn't have much chance to talk. Our earmuffs were back on and we needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Spud had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth; I remember I spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, me, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching and covered in earth. We traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then we Lion-Hearts hurried off to Transfiguration.

Professor Darbus' classes were always hard work, but that day I remember they were especially difficult. Everything I had learnt in my first year seemed to have leaked out of my head over that summer. I was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all I managed to do was give my beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop, avoiding my wand.

However, my problems were not as bad as Chrissie's were. She had patched up her wand with some borrowed Sellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparkling at odd moments, and every time Chrissie tried to transfigure her beetle it engulfed her in thick grey smoke which smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what she was doing, Chrissie accidentally squashed her beetle with her elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor Darbus was not pleased.

I was relieved to hear the lunch bell. My brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom except for me, Sian, Chris and Chrissie, who was whacking her wand furiously on the desk.

"Stupid … useless … thing …"

"Why don't you write home for another one?" I suggested, as the wand let off a valley of bangs like a firecracker.

"Oh yeah, and get another Howler back from Ma," said Chrissie, stuffing the now hissing wand into her bag. "It's your own fault your wand got snapped –"

We went down to lunch, and Chrissie's mood was not improved by Sian showing us the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

"What've we got this afternoon?" I said, hastily changing the subject.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Chris at once.

"Why," said Sian at once, seizing his timetable, "have you outlined all Gold' lessons with pink?"

Chris snatched the timetable back, flushing furiously.

We finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Sian sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyage with the Vampire again. Chris, Chrissie and I stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before I was aware that we were being closely watched. Looking around, I saw the very small, mousey-haired girl I'd seen being Sorted the night before, staring at me as though transfixed. She was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment I looked at her, she turned bright red.

"All right, Kiara?" I'm – I'm Colleen McCreevy," she said breathlessly in a strong Scottish accent, and taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Lion-Heart, too. I think – would it be all right if – could I have a picture?" she said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" I repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colleen McCreevy eagerly, edging further forwards. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me how you survived when She You Know tried to kill you and how she disappeared and everything and how you've still got a flame scar on your forehead," (her eyes raked my hairline) "and a girl in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move." Colleen drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's brilliant here, isn't it? I knew I had magic in me and was so pleased when I got my letter. My mum works at the Ministry and she was thrilled, so she bought me this camera. I'm sending loads of pictures home to her. And it'd be really good if I had one of you –" she looked imploringly at me, "– maybe one of your friends could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Pride-Lander?"

Loud and scathing, Dani Malty's voice echoed around the courtyard. She had stopped right behind Colleen, flanked, as she always was at Dragon Mort, by her cousin, Keziah Rae-Bradley, and their large and thuggish cronies, Crate and Gabber.

"Everyone queue up!" Rae-Bradley roared to the crowd. "Kiara Pride-Lander's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," I said, annoyed. "Shut up, Malty."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colleen, whose entire body was about as thick as Crate's neck.

"Jealous?" said Malty, who didn't need to shout anymore; half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't need a foul scar right across my forehead, thanks."

"Yeah, and besides," Rae-Bradley cut in, "I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

"Good one, Kez," said Malty, as Crate and Gabber sniggered stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malty," said Chrissie angrily. Crate stopped laughing and started rubbing her conker-like knuckles in a menacing way.

"Yeah, back off, Malty," said Chris, as he stood next to Chrissie.

"Be careful, Dawson," sneered Malty. "You don't want to start any trouble or your mummy'll have to ask your dad to come and take you away from school." She put on a shrill, piercing voice. "If you put another toe out of line –"

A lot of Snake-Eyes firth-years laughed loudly at this.

"Dawson would like a signed photo, Pride-Lander," smirked Malty, nodding at Chrissie. "It'd be worth the same as her whole house and everything in it."

Chrissie whipped out her wand, but Sian, who was known as the "voice of reason" in her family at the times when she was around, snapped shut Voyage with the Vampire and whispered, "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Giselle Gold was striding towards us, her turquoise robes swirling behind her. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

I started to speak but was cut short as Gold flung an arm around my shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Kiara!"

Pinned to Gold's side and my face burning with humiliation, I saw Malty slide smirking back into the crowd.

"Come on then, Miss McCreevy," said Gold, beaming at Colleen. "A double portrait, can't say fairer than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

Colleen fumbled for her camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind us, signalling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Gold called to the crowd, and she set off back to the castle with me, who all the while was wishing that I knew a good vanishing spell, still clasped to her side.

"A word of the wise, Kiara," said Gold paternally as we entered the building through a side door, "I covered up for you back there with young McCreevy – if she was photographing me too, your schoolfellows won't think you're setting yourself up so much …"

Deaf to my stammers, Gold swept me down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible – looks a tad bigheaded, Kiara, to be frank. There may be a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but –" she gave a little chortle, "I don't think your quite there yet."

We had reached Gold's classroom and she let me go at last. I yanked my robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where I busied myself with piling all seven of Gold's books in front of me, so as to avoid looking at the real thing.

The rest of the class came clattering in and Chris, Sian and Chrissie sat down next to me.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Chrissie. "You'd better hope McCreevy doesn't meet Chr – someone here," she said quickly, "or next thing you know, they'll be starting a Kiara Pride-Lander Fan Club together.

"Shut up," I snapped. The last thing I needed at that moment was for Gold to hear the phrase "Kiara Pride-Lander Fan Club".

When the class was seated, Gold cleared her throat loudly and silence fell. She reached forward, picked up Nikita's copy of Travelling with Trolls and held it up it show the rest of the class.

"Me," she said, looking at it and winking as well, "Giselle Gold, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five time's winner of Wizard Weekly's Most Dazzling Smile Award – but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

She waited for us to laugh; a few of us smiled meekly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books – well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about – just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in …"

When she had handed out the test papers she returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start – now!"

I looked down at my paper and read:

1. What is Giselle Gold's favourite colour?

2. What is Giselle Gold's secret ambition?

3. What, in your opinion, is Giselle Gold's greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

54. What is Giselle Gold's birthday, and what would her ideal gift be?

Half an hour later, Gold collected in the papers and rifled through them in front of us.

"Tut, tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is coral; I say so in Years with the Yetis. And a few of you have to read Wandering with the Werewolf Pack a bit more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be to establish harmony between all magic and non-magic creatures – though I wouldn't say no to a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

She gave us another roguish wink. Chrissie was now staring at Gold with a look of pure disbelief on her face, whilst Sian was looking at Gold with pure disgust; Zara Finn and Dena Wright, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Chris, on the other hand, was listening to Gold with rapt attention, and he and Sian both gave a start when she mentioned their names.

"… but Miss Sian Dawson and Mr Christopher Rickers knew my secret is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions – good people! In fact –" she flipped over their papers, "full marks! Where are Miss Sian Dawson and Mr Christopher Rickers?"

Sian, who looked bored, raised her hand straight in the air; Chris, on the other hand, raised a trembling hand slowly in the air, looking intensely at Gold.

"Excellent!" beamed Gold. "Quite excellent! Take twenty points for Lion-Heart!"

Chris looked surprised and pleased at the news; Sian, however, shrugged her shoulders and twirled her hair. I thought this was odd, for Sian usually liked praise for teachers, but I discovered why she wasn't so pleased with that a little bit later. But I was interrupted in my thought process by Gold saying, "And so to business …

"Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizard kind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of myself, I leaned round my pile of books for a better look at the cage. Gold placed a hand over the cover. Dena and Zara had stopped laughing now. Nikita was cowering in her seat and Sian had stopped twirling her hair and was paying close attention to what Gold was saying now.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Gold in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

"We all held our breath as Gold whipped off the cover.

"Is that all?" Sian said unimpressed, back to twirling her hair again.

"Yes," she said dramatically. "Freshly caught Gremlin Pixies."

Zara Finn couldn't control herself. She let out a snort of laughter which even Gold couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" she smiled at Zara.

"Well, they're not – they're not very – dangerous, are they?" Zara choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Gold, waggling a finger annoyingly at Zara. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were darkish green with yellow stripes and yellow bellies in colour, who were about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and pulling bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right then," said Gold loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And she opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Nikita by the ears and lifted her into the air. Several shot through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the waste bin, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed windows; within minutes, half of us were sheltering under the desks and Nikita was swinging from the candelabra in the ceiling.

"Come on, now, round them up, round them up, they're only pixies …" Gold shouted. She then rolled up her sleeves, brandished her wand and bellowed, "Peskipixi Pestermoni!"

It had no effect whatsoever; one of the pixies seized Gold's wand and threw it out of the window too. Gold gulped and dived under her own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Nikita, who fell a second later as the candelabra gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush towards the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Gold straightened up, caught sight of me, Chris, Sian and Chrissie, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll just ask you four to put the rest of them back into their cage." She then swept past us and shut the door quickly behind her.

"Can you believe her?" roared Chrissie, as one of the pixies bit her painfully on the ear.

"She just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Chris, who was trying to whack some of the pixies with a book.

"Hands on?" I said, whilst trying to grab a pixie that was out of reach with its tongue out. "Chris, she didn't have a clue what she was doing."

"Rubbish," said Chris, who was still trying to whack pixies with a book. "You've read her books – look at all the amazing things she's done …"

"Immobulous!" said Sian suddenly, which made us jump and whip round; all the pixies were immobilised in the air. "Kiara, grab the cage and make it face towards me," she said without looking at me, as she began to whirl her wand around and round up all the pixies. I got the cage and held the opening towards Sian. "Good," she said without looking at me. "Now do me a favour and hang on tight to the cage, 'cause this is gonna give you quite a kick."

I didn't understand what she mean, but I did a second later, for she suddenly sent the pixies flying pell-mell back inside their cage. Then, with another wave of her wand, the door of the cage was shut. We then fell back against the desks, panting and resting for a few moments.

"Nice going, Sian," I said.

"Yeah, you totally saved us," said Chrissie.

"Brilliant as usual S.D.!" said Chris.

"No problem," said Sian breathlessly. When we had caught our breath, we got our bags and remaining books, quills and ink and shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind us, because we were slightly scared that the pixie cage would burst open and the pixies would unfreeze, burst out of their cage and start to attack us again.

"Honestly, that teacher!" Sian burst out suddenly.

"Oh, not you too, Sian!" sighed Chris.

"Well, what do you expect me to say, Rickers? I mean, she's meant to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and yet she can't even round up a bunch of pixies, and leaves us kids in charge of them! I mean, what kind of example is that setting?"

"Er – how about saying that she's teaching us how we should take care of ourselves in future?" suggested Chris.

"Oh come on, Chris. Open your eyes here, OK. The woman obviously had no idea of what she was doing."

"Chrissie's right, Rickers," I said.

"Two things here," said Sian. "First of all, Chrissie has a point. Second of all, you're just siding with her because of her outward appearance."

"Oh that is not true," Chris defied, but the fact that he was looking down at the ground and that the colour was rising to his face told us that he was lying.

Sian made a "cuh"ing noise and said, "Oh my God, you are unbelievable!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Rickers, that there is more to a person than their beauty. It's what lies beneath a person that I find attractive, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool. And besides, we women aren't objects, you know, that can be used just for – you know what, never mind that. The point is that we have hearts and souls as well as the next person, and you know, fame and fortune can only get you so far."

"Why, what can't it get you?" Rickers asked, intrigued at what his sister was saying.

"Well, it can't buy you everything."

"Such as?"

Sian sighed and said, "Such as … happiness, for a start." And with that she walked away, leaving Chris, Chrissie and I behind. We walked slowly, and there was some silence before Chrissie said, "She's got a point, you know."

"She always has to be that way, doesn't she?" sighed Chris.

"Look, I know that Sian's annoying with her always telling it pretty much like it is," I said, "but there are times like now when you have to agree with her. Not only because she, like me and Chrissie are women, but because she is right about Gold and is right by the fact that you are blinded by her beauty."

Chris remained silent after I said this, and me and Chrissie left him walking as we ran to catch up with Sian.

"So Sian," asked Chrissie when we caught up with her, "I take it that you have no respect for Gold, then?"

Sian gave a reluctant sigh, smiled slightly and said, "What was your first clue?"

"Oh, it's just how you looked at her when she was talking, and how you reacted to the praise that she gave you."

"Well, you're right, sister. I don't have any respect for her."

"But why, Sian?" I asked her, surprised to hear her admit it. "I don't understand it. I mean, you have respect for every teacher you've seen and you always like to hear the praise a teacher gives you. So, what's up with you not liking praise and not respecting this teacher?"

"I don't like the praise that she gives me and I don't respect her, Kiara, because not only does she not have any self respect, but she is so wrapped up in herself and the fame and the fortune and the fact that it's all about her, I mean, it's just disgusting how she goes about talking about herself the way she does all the time. Plus, I'm pretty sure she's ugly on the inside."

"You're very perceptive, aren't you?" I asked her, as Chrissie shook her head and smiled and looked like she was going to laugh in disbelief at how good Sian was.

"Well, I don't like to toot my own horn, Kiara, but yes, I like to think I am." And the three of us chuckled a little. Then Chrissie went back to a comment that Chris made earlier.

"What she says she's done. Honestly, if she's not gone by the end of the year, I think I'll leave and scream."

"I agree with you, sister," Sian said, as I nodded in agreement with what Chrissie said. "I mean, of all the people Ma could've picked for the job –"

"So, are you going to complain to your mother about her, Sian?" I asked.

"Nah," she said. "I'm gonna keep this to myself." We understood what Sian meant by that, for the three of us agreed that Gold was not only a waste of space, but she was also a terrible teacher, too. Chris caught us up at that moment, so we ended the talk about Gold and went down to dinner.