CHAPTER FOUR: AN OWL OVER BREAKFAST

That next morning Felix was awoken by the smell of cooking, and when he opened his eyes it took him a moment to remember why the rafters of his windmill weren't looming above his head, or why the scent of bacon rather than pastry was wafting up through his room, and a smile spread across his face. Although he loved his Windmill, his parents, Bramwell and Sir Mortimer, Baskerville very much, it was a five weeks since he'd been around a friend.

"Breakfast in bed for lazy boys!" called Mrs. Skipton from the landing, and he heard Oscar leap out of bed in the next room.

"I'm up!" he heard Oscar call, listening to the frantic opening and closing of the wardrobe.

Felix threw on a jumper and opened the door as Mrs. Skipton reached the top of the stairs holding two plates brimming with sausages, bacon, eggs, toast and beans.

"I'm coming!" they heard Oscar cry as the second door flew open. Oscar stood in the doorway. In his haste he'd got both legs down the same trouser-hole.

"Nice look, darling, but that's why we've got the Leg-Locker Curse. It's a good job I caught yours before it came up, Felix. Sid seemed under the impression you'd be happy with a single slice of dry toast. But since you're both up and… well, sort of dressed, you may as well come down and have them in the garden. There's juice down in the kitchen."

The courtyard which gave St. Sherwin's Court its name, though smaller, was grander than the downs surrounding Ormerod Windmill by far, and a world away from the quiet muggle streets on the other side of the house. They were enclosed entirely by the ring of Tudor gables, and it was clear that each and every house around them belonged to witches and wizards.

Through the windows Felix could see pots and pans washing themselves, violin bows playing of their own accord, and fires like the ones of the Skipton's chandelier burning red, blue and green beneath a sizzling grill. But the houses, shameless in their clairvoyance, were nothing compared to the yard itself.

A river ran from one end to the other, quite from where or to, Felix had never found out. And along the stream fountains didn't just leap, but danced, the streams of water manifesting themselves into ballerinas that pirouetted and arabesqued up and down the watercourse and the surrounding lawn. So in time, they were, so fluid in motion that Felix was reminded of the ghosts who would sometimes take toe to the Great Hall at Christmas or Halloween.

Owls, some carrying letters or small object in their talons, roamed from perch to rooftop, gliding under, over and through the spinning geysers. But what really caught Felix's attention were trimmed hedges. He'd seen similar things before in posh gardens or on village roundabouts, where gardeners cut the shrubs so that they resembled people or animals. What they didn't do, however, was chase each other. And now Felix laughed out loud as he watched a great green bear bound over the river in pursuit of a flowering rabbit, scattering a coryphée as it landed. To the left of the house a small herd of holly horses grazed lazily in the morning sun whilst a pair of privet squirrels, almost as large as Felix himself, scuttled over the gutters of one of the balconies. And after spending so long cooped up in his windmill by the prying eyes of muggles, Felix breathed a huge sigh of liberty that every one of the houses around him were houses of magic.

But Felix had barely sat down to begin his breakfast when tawny owl settled itself on the table and dropped a letter.

"Is that for me? Hey!"

The owl had taken a rasher of bacon in return for its service. Felix shooed it away before taking the letter. It was addressed, in green, looping handwriting, to Master Felix Fernsby, Number 3 St. Sherwin's Court, Lavenham, Suffolk. On the other side it was sealed in red wax with the unmistakable Hogwarts crest. Felix read.

Dear Felix Fernsby

I hope this letter finds you well, and you have had a good summer. With the start of term just around the corner, kindly find included your equipment requirements and booklist.

UNIFORM:

Fourth-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)

COURSE BOOKS:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 4), Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic, Bathilda Bagshot

Intermediate Transfiguration, Emeric Switch

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Newt Scamander

Magical Drafts and Potions, Arsenius Jigger

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Quentin Trimble

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Phyllida Spore

Unfogging the Future, Cassandra Vablatsky (Divination only)

Ancient Runes Made Easy, Laurenzoo (Ancient Runes only)

Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles, Wilhelm Wigworthy (Muggle Studies only)

OTHER EQUIPMENT:

1 Wand

1 Cauldron

1 Set of Phials

1 Telescope

1 Set of Bronze Scales

Broomstick (optional)

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

We look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts on Thursday 1st September.

Yours Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall.

"We've already got most of this!" said Oscar as he entered the garden, now correctly wearing a pair of jeans and sporting broomstick slippers. "Just a couple of books, some phials to replace the ones I blew up last year, and a new broom!" He looked hopefully at his mother.

"I think some new robes would be gold better spent," Mrs. Skipton said. "I don't think even you realise how many holes you're going round with. Which reminds me. You still need to pack. I've got a whole load of washing for you to take up with you."

"I can do it," said Felix, who had just finished his breakfast.

"Oh, you're a darling. And whilst you're in give Garrick a call. I don't know what he does in that office of his half the time."

Felix took the basket up to Oscar's room, before making his way back down to the main hall and up to the upper rooms on the other side of the house, remembering from his last and only previous visit where Garrick's study was. He knocked.

"Yes, yes, come in. Ah, Felix, I expect my wife is wondering where I am."

"Yes," Felix laughed and looked around.

It was a rather plain office, with a desk upon which a bronze globe slowly rotated and a set of three drawers which murmured quietly between themselves. Mounted on the wall in a wooden frame hung a blue and orange scarf. Knitted into the tangerine were the words BRAINTREE & CRITALL.

"Mr Skipton, what's that?" Felix pointed to the scarf.

"Ah, the Iron. That, my boy, is a souvenir from when I went to watch a muggle game called football. I only recently discovered it and I'm afraid it's quite taken my fancy. Braintree is only just down the road, and I took Oscar along, but I don't think enjoyed it quite as much as me."

"Oh, don't get him started," one of the drawers tutted.

"I don't know what you're moaning about, you're not the one who has to look after his articles," said the one below.

"Dad!" a voice came up the stairs, followed by heavy footsteps. "Mum's wondering why on earth you're not-" Oscar burst into the study and saw the two of them looking at the mounted scarf. "Dad's not going on about that kicking game, it he?" Oscar rolled his eyes as he entered the room.

"You know full well what it's called, and you'll be grateful that I'm missing the first home game of the season on Saturday because I'm taking you to London."

"Why can't you just follow Quidditch like any normal wizard?"

"You and I both know the problems with following Quidditch here. Now football, you've got Braintree, Ipswich and Cambridge all within a quick hop. None of them are very good, apparently, but when you hardly know what's going on that doesn't matter!"

"What's the problem with Quidditch in Lavenham?" Felix asked once Mr Skipton had hurried off to appease his wife.

"Well," he grimaced, "there isn't any. The closest we've got are the Tutshill Tornados, maybe the Wimbourne Wasps. Unless you count the Attleborough Aye-Ayes, and I think I'd rather stay at home than sit through one of their matches."

"I've never even heard of them."

"They're down in the fourth division or something. Though they were in the news a few years ago for hosting a friendly against the Patonga Proudsticks from Uganda."

"We've got the Chudley Cannons right on our doorstep."

"You've also got the Falmouth Falcons. You're lucky. The south coast is where it's at for Quidditch teams. Football, though," he made a face. "Dad took me to a game. It ended zero, zero. I mean, what's even the point? One team did score, but it wasn't allowed. Something about the player being too close to the goal. Well how are you supposed to score if you can't go near the thing?!"

He carried on complaining as they made their way back downstairs. But when they got to the yard, Mr and Mrs. Skipton had been joined by a third person, and it was someone who Felix and Oscar knew well.

"Cora!" Felix said, running forward to give the girl a hug. "I completely forgot you lived opposite Oscar."

"We've barely been able to keep her away."

"Dad!" Oscar groaned, whilst Mr Garrick chuckled.

Cora was tall, still taller than the two boys, although Felix had gained an inch or two on her over the summer. She had straight, black hair, and a grin which made you worry where the next trick was coming from. Because she was, of course, in Slytherin.

"How's the windmill. Dull as it sounds?"

"Pretty much," Felix said. "Sir Mortimer tripped over Kazoo and fell downstairs, though. He was walking backwards for three days before we could be bothered to fix him."

They all laughed.

"Anyway," Cora continued, "I can't stay long, just thought I'd come and say hi. We're heading into Bury St. Edmunds later to look round an old Saxon wizarding village. I hope you're all ready for tomorrow."

"What's happening tomorrow?" Oscar asked.

"Oh, we've not told them yet," Mr Skipton said.

"What, Dad?" Oscar demanded, removing his dad's half-eaten breakfast from his reach until he divulged.

"Well, the Twelvetrees suggested a while back we should host another melee, and it's been arranged for tomorrow afternoon."

"Melee?" Felix asked.

"Hasn't Oscar ever told you about the infamous St. Sherwin Melee?" Mrs. Skipton asked in astonishment.

"It's the best bit of the summer!" Oscar jumped up in excitement, spraying the patio with his father's beans. "You see the river? Well all the houses on this side of the river are against all the people on that side. There are fourteen houses here," he motioned around with his arm, "seven on each side."

"All the houses? You mean everyone takes part? What am I saying? Take part in what?"

"Start at the beginning, Oscar, maybe that way he'll have some inkling of what's going on," Mr Skipton sighed.

"Oh, right. So, the St. Sherwin's Melee is a game we host- well, that the court hosts- every so often, and everyone present has to partake. It's a tradition going back, like, three hundred years or something. You see that house there, one over from Cora's? That's the Binns's house. You know, like Professor Binns at Hogwarts? Apparently he was quite the player in the day. Anyway, each house makes an effigy, like a flag, or small statue, that sort of thing. And the side of the river to steal all of the effigies of the other side's wins."

"It sounds similar to a muggle game called capture the bag, or something," said Felix.

"I bet the muggles don't have wild animals and water demons! We choose captains, and the captains take it in turns to pick which of the topiaries- you know, the animal bushes- are on their team. Most people go for the bears, but some of the birds are actually big enough to carry you on their backs. And then you see the dancing spirits in the river? They're naiads, and… well, they can turn nasty. They nearly drowned Mr McTavish once. Remember that, Dad?"

"Well he was cheating. He deserved it."

"Cheating?" Felix laughed. "There don't seem to be any rules!"

"I suspect today is going to be a steep learning curve to prepare you," Mr Skipton said. "First of all you're not allowed a broom. Secondly, you are allowed a wand, but you're not allowed to cast it on anyone."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rules, rules, rules," Oscar rolled his eyes. "But trust me, it's going to epic."

And Felix spent the rest of the day being shown around the courtyard that he was told come the next day was to be referred to only as The Stadium, and hearing about all the gloried anecdotes and retellings of past melees. And so long they talked, and much he took in, that by the time he finally did hit his four-poster bed that evening, he felt somewhat prepared for the day to come.