A/N-I will be able to update more chapters more quickly for a while. By the way, the actual Chapter 9 is posted now, so if you didn't read it, you will find it where my apology letter used to be. You need to read it for this next chapter to make sense. Thank you!

I emerged from the fireplace in a cloud of soot, and remembered that my mother never had the time to clean out the fireplace. She was sitting on the couch, a frightened look on her face. Then she realized it was only me and not a burglar climbing down the chimney.

"Oh, Janet, I'm sorry!" she cried, running towards me, "I forgot it was so dirty in there. How are you? Are you all right?" she asked without waiting for my answer, "Oh, I knew it was a bad idea to send off to England! Oh, my poor baby, I'm sorry!" Then she held me within a giant bear hug.

"Mom! Mom, I'm fine!" I struggled to free myself. "Hogwarts was great, now can you just let go!"

She quickly released me. "Oh, I'm sorry, Janet. I just missed you so much! I don't know why I let you go off to England like that! That women…she must have put a spell on me or something!" I could tell my mother assumed that she had indeed been put under a spell.

"Mom, Professor McGonagall wouldn't put a spell on you," I said to her, "It's against the law to use magic on Muggles, anyways."

"Muggles?"
"Non-wizards," I clarified, "You weren't under a spell. Professor McGonagall's just scary like that."

"If you say so, honey," Mom said, "Did you like Hogwarts?"

"Yes!" I told her, "I learned a lot of magic!"

"Really?" my mother asked, "Well then, would you like to help me with the chores? You could just snap your fingers and make the dishes clean," she added jokingly.

"Actually, Mom, I can't," I said, "There's a law against minors doing magic outside of school."

"Oh, okay!" My mom looked at my sooty face. "I'll get a hot bath ready for you. Oh, and then I've got some cookie dough and your favorite movie! We can watch it together!" She hugged me again.

"Cookie dough?" I asked, "Raw cookie dough?"

She nodded. "I just missed you, Janet."

"I missed you, too, Mom!" I hugged her, forgetting all my troubles, just happy to be back.

-----

After I soaked in the bathtub, I walked downstairs, taking in the sight of my home, seeing what had changed since I left in September. I saw that Mom and Dad had finally gotten those new curtains they had been talking about, and there was a chair in the living room that hadn't been there before. My room, however, had remained exactly the same as when I left it.

I plopped down on the couch next to Mom. "So, how's Dad doing?" I asked.

"Oh, fine, fine," Mom replied, "The doctors say his condition is starting to go into remission."

"That's good. Hey, can you pass the cookie dough?" I scooped up a spoonful and ate it. "Yum. I forgot how wonderful cookie dough tastes."

"They didn't have cookie dough at Hogwarts?" Mom asked, "Oh, right, you probably had scones, and fish 'n' chips, and-"

"-Actually, Mom, most of it was just regular food stuff. Except for the pumpkin juice. We drink a lot of pumpkin juice at Hogwarts."

My mom furrowed her brow. "Funny, that doesn't seem like an English thing."

"No, I think it's more of a wizarding thing." I looked up at her. "Anyways, you used to live in England. Why are you asking me what it's like?"

Mom sighed. "Janet, I never lived in England. Your father went to college in England, and we were sightseeing around the time you were born. Now, do you want to watch the movie now?"

"Yeah!" My mom turned on the TV, I curled up in my blanket, and we watched all the green numbers flying across the screen as the movie began.

When it ended, I yawned as the credits rolled across the screen. "Good night, Mom," I said.

"Good night, Janet." She smiled.

"By the way, Mom," I told her, "I really want to be called 'Lianne' from now on. I think it fits me better than Janet does."

She smiled again and laughed. "It certainly does. You Great-Aunt Lianne would have been so proud of you. You would have loved to meet her."

"Everyone always says that, Mom. But I'm never going to meet her. She died two days before I was born, remember?" I paused. "Tell me about Great-Aunt Lianne again." I had been told this story ever since I was five, but I never got tired of hearing it.

Mom took a deep breath, and began. "Great-Aunt Lianne wasn't really your great aunt, but she was just like part of the family. She was born in a small town in Missouri. She was an orphan, but instead of going by what the orphanage named her, she named herself Lianne. She always said that every girl and her cousin was called Mary-Jane, and she wasn't going to let herself be one of them.

"She met my mother when she was fourteen, and they became best friends. She helped my mother and father fall in love, and when they married, Lianne was their maid of honor. She even helped your father and me get married. So, when we heard that she had died, we named you after her. And that's her story."

"Thanks for telling me, Mom," I said, walking to the stairs, "Good night."

"Good night, Jan—I mean, Lianne."

-----

The next morning, after I woke up, I went into the bathroom, looked out the window, and then froze. I was looking at the neighbor's cactus, the one that looked like Professor Longbottom's mimbulus mimbletonia. There was no doubt in my mind. That plant was definitely a mimbulus mimbletonia. "Mom!" I yelled, running downstairs, "Mom! Mom!"

My mom was doing the dishes when I ran in. "What is it, J—Lianne?"

"Who's the lady who lives next door?" I asked frantically, "With that cactus?"

"Oh, that's Flora Herberts. She doesn't come out much. She's the one who helped us find the house. She used to teach at your father's college. She taught botany, I think." My mom resumed scrubbing away at all our china.

"Thanks!" I ran outside, thankful I had fallen asleep in jeans and a T-shirt the night before. I rang the doorbell and tapped my foot impatiently. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened, and I was greeted by an elderly woman in a wheelchair. "Hi," I said, "I'm Lianne Everett, from next door, and I'd like to talk about that plant in your window."

I sat down in her living room and she poured me some tea. Living in England had not affected my dislike for tea one bit, so I merely pretended to slurp my drink. "So, um, where did you find that plant?" I asked, "It looks like something I saw at school." I expected her to give some answer like 'I found it in a graveyard under a full moon' or 'I got it on an expedition where the rest of my team mysteriously vanished.'

What I did not expect her to say was, "My father gave it to me. Oh, yes, I did hear that a young girl around here had started school in Hogwarts. How is Neville doing?"

I was taken aback. "Um…who?"

"Oh, sorry, Professor Longbottom." She drank her tea. "How is he?"

"Um, he's fine," I said, "How do you know him?"

"I'm his second cousin once removed. My father gave him a mimbulus mimbletonia too, when he was…fifteen, I think?" She frowned in concentration. "I wonder if his is still alive. You have to water it exactly once every three days, you know, otherwise it shrivels up and begins to rot. You also have to

keep it in the sunlight, and feed it a special blend of herbs. I'll bet his is long dead!" She crossed her arms, looking triumphant.

"…So, wait…" I was confused. "…You're a witch?"

She shook her head. "Sadly, no. I'm a Squib."

"A…Squib?" My head began to ache. This was too much information to take in. "What's a Squib?"

She sighed. "A Squib is someone born into a wizarding family who has no magical powers whatsoever. Instead Muggle-borns like yourselves get those oh-so-special power, while people like me are powerless."

"Oh," I said awkwardly, "Um…I'm sorry."

"That's all right," she said, getting a crazed look in her eye, "I made the most of it. I had a good life as a Muggle. My father, though, was devastated. When he thought little Neville might be a Squib, he did everything he could to make sure Neville didn't end up like me!" She laughed, the laugh short and bitter. "I heard he once tossed Neville off a pier, and dangled him out the window, and such! He gave Neville a pet toad when he got his magic, but what did I get? Nothing!"

She was red in the face now. Then her breathing slowed, and she looked up at me. "I had a good life, though, away from those rotten wizards and their rotten magic. I hate those stuck-up witches and those wizards up on their high horses! Well, who cares about them? I had a good life, better than any of theirs! A good life," she began to mumble to herself, like a mantra, "A good life." She giggled maniacally.

"I have to go now," I told her, letting myself out.

"Did you enjoy the tea?" she asked and I ran to the door. Her eyes were glazed over, and she seemed out of focus. For some reason, it reminded me of a rabid dog I had once seen on TV. I was scared.

I laughed nervously. "I loved it!" I lied. Then I ran back to my house and locked all the doors.

-----

I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mrs. Herbert's crazy eyes and heard her voice chanting, over and over, 'I hate those stuck-up witches!" The mimbulus mimbletonia sat in her window, almost taunting me. Then my door creaked open. I screamed.

"Lianne! Lianne!" my mother cried, running in, "It's only me! I saw your light on, sweetie. What's wrong?"

I sighed. "Nothing, nothing, just a bad dream."

"Lianne?" I looked at her. "Listen, this might be a good time to talk to you about something."

"What?"

"I'm happy that you're learning magic, but I'm worried that you're neglecting a…a…a Mubble-"

"-Muggle-"

"-Muggle education. I've talked with your father, and we want you to take some summer school classes," my mom finished.

"Mom, can't this wait until morning?" I asked, rubbing my weary eyes.

"Are you planning on sleeping at all tonight?" Mom asked back.

"…No."

"Then no, it can't. You're going to summer school," she said.

"But, Mom, why?" I protested.

"Because," she replied, in a no-nonsense tone she must have learned from McGonagall, "I won't have my daughter growing up with no knowledge of grammar or math or science. And that's that."

"But that could take months!" I cried.

"I have spoken with a tutor. She is under the impression that you are taught by a friend of mine who homeschools her child. She says it should only take about five weeks."

"But that's half of summer break!" I shouted, "And I have to do homework for Hogwarts, too, over the summer!"

"Either you take summer school, or I'm pulling you out of Hogwarts." Mom was giving me an ultimatum. "It's your choice."

"Ugh!" I cried, lying back in bed. It wasn't until morning that I realized why Mom picked that seemingly inconvenient time to bring up the subject, because no sooner had my head hit the pillow, I was deep in a dreamless sleep.

A/N-Yes, I know cookie dough is really gross, but everyone I know thinks it's delicious. Also, in case you didn't notice, they are watching 'The Matrix', which I do not own either.