A/N:
ALL CHAPTERS SUBJECT TO CHANGE
Cloe: Gryffith is on a bit of a vacation, so I am left to hold the fort down by myself, oh woe is I. But seriously Gryffith is gone and I've been left here to beta, post, and everything else. Now I'm very sorry to do this but I had enough. I will not (and I won't let Gryffith either) post on ff.net until we get at least 15 reviews, that shouldn't be too hard for you people. Hell Chapter One 109 hits, and only 5 people reviewed. Come on!!! It's a travesty, its a mockery, its a sham! ::sighs:: Well here you go chapter 2.... Sorry it took so long, damn band.

Disclaimer:

Known Characters, Places, and Universe: Don't own it, won't ever own it, don't really want to own it (now that's just a blatant lie)

Unknown Characters, Plot, Anything else you don't recognize: Ours, please don't use it with out our permission, the whole Circe name thing is a huge coincidence pay it no mind, Bixby's name is from the Cat Who... books by Lillian Jackson Braun, and any other seemingly familiar plot lines etc... is purely accidentally.

Thanks all
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Guardian Angel from Hell
Chapter Two, Family Ties

A Harry Potter FanFiction
By Gryffith and Cloe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Two

After a delightful welcome home by the house elves Circe decided to go straight to her room and then to Diagon Alley. She sauntered to the kitchen tilting pictures on her way much to the displeasure of the occupants as they fell out or woke up. In any other house this would be rude, but any other house was not Malfoy Manor and the pictures in those houses weren't filled with stuffy old witches and wizards most of whom had something do to with the dark arts in one way or another. Circe chuckled, thinking; I even have something to do with the dark arts, fighting it that is. She grinned remembering the first time the look on her face when she told her father she was going to work for the Time Bureau.

"Hey dad," a younger Circe had yelled.

"Yes, Circe?" Draco Malfoy had asked, looking and sounding exactly like his father. Circe grinned wickedly.

"I just wanted to tell you that I," she had paused for effect and to fix her white blond hair, "I just joined the Time Bureau, you know fighting to put an end to the evil Lord Greythorn. She paused, looking at the wall.

Draco had gone a sickly shade of white, his eyes blazed, and he clamped his mouth shut so as to not start screaming, he knew better than to shout; a screaming match with Circe Malfoy was not something easily won. Finally, he regained some semblance self-control.

"You did what?" he had asked in a soft deadly sounding voice that was meant to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who was listening; he had learned it from Lucius Malfoy, his father. Circe rolled her eyes; she had either ignored his subtle threat or she had completely missed it. He had known the former was the case, for she was smirking the tiniest bit just enough so he would notice and be angered further by her disrespect.

"What didn't you hear me the first time, are you going deaf?" the last word she had screamed her voice warbling at 150 decibels. Draco's eyes narrowed into slits and he looked her right in the eyes, and saw two reminders of her lack of proper respect for the Malfoy family name, one she was wearing muggle contacts, she knew he despised everything muggle and two as if the muggle contacts weren't bad enough, she had gotten them in crimson, the Gryffindor house color. She had stared back at him, eyes wide unblinking; she had this strange habit of opening her eyes very wide and keeping them stationary when she was trying to get what she wanted.

"I won't be going deaf if you stop screaming in my ears," he had said straining not to scream back at her, "you are not working for that Mudblood! Not ever! Now get out of my sight, we will have no more discussions on the subject."

"Whatever you say father, " but before he could yell at her for being pert she was gone.

Some people have selective hearing, Circe has not, what she has is better: she has the ability to take just about any conversation and rationalize it into making it sound like the other people was agreeing with her the entire time, and in times of dire need convince others that this is what was said as well. In other words, she simply changed "You are not working for that Mudblood" into "Work your way up to the top and run the entire Bureau" and "we will have no more discussions on the subject" into "I don't have any objections, so I see no need to speak of it again." She still loved being able to do that.

Circe ran up the four flights of stairs to her room, lifted the third floorboard from the left of her canopy bed, and pulled out a heavy bag of gold. Just as she was putting down the floorboard, she froze; heavy footsteps were clumping up the stairwell. The girl groaned; there was no way she would go back the way she had come. She pulled out her wand and considered apparating, but that was exhausting. Her broom…but that was downstairs, unless she used the summoning charm. She sighed in disgust; her summoning charm was, while everything else was in peak condition, pathetic. Instead she remembered the fireplace at the other end of her room, built up a small blaze, threw in a pinch of floo powder she kept in a pouch at her waist, and as she jumped into the fireplace she muttered, "Diagon Alley."

She appeared in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to the alley. With careful and disdainful poise, she stepped through the back wall of the tavern into the busy marketplace of witches and wizards. First, she browsed through several shops for Bixby's birthday gift. One clerk offered his service at Destiny's Paraphernalia and Circe nodded absently as she bent over a reputedly magic mirror.

"I'm looking for a gift for my friend. His birthday is today." The clerk clapped his hands.
"Ah! A Pisces! Does your friend enjoy jewelry, because we have a nice selection of birthstones-"

Circe straightened up tautly and retorted stiffly, "No, thank you. He is not much into rocks."

After another hour she settled on a book showing the greatest plays in Quidditch since the sport was invented, plus a bag full of Fizzing Whizbees, Chocolate Frogs, and black Pepper Imps, and had them wrapped at the counter, which was an idea some of the shop owners had gotten from the muggles as a way to improve business. Without more ado Circe made a beeline to her favorite tailor and perused through the numerous fabrics in stock but nothing would match her shade of purple hair. Then she remembered that she could change that so she ordered some royal purple silk with delicate and restrained gold embroidery depicting small suns and stars and allowed herself to be measured for a sleeveless dress robe. She then bought several silk sashes in an iridescent color that flashed from tan to canary yellow, otherwise known as ocher, and tossed in a few extra sickles to have her initials embroidered in crimson along the edges when she paid for the outfit, courtesy of her father, of course.

Marching resolutely into the London streets, where the sun had long past set, by way of the Leaky Cauldron, Circe spent a few minutes looking for a suitable drugstore. Once there she easily obtained ruby-colored hair-dye, some purple and ocher hair highlighters, a pair of yellow contacts, and a few light bulbs at various sizes and watts for the older Mr. Weasley, Bixby's grandfather and one of the party's host, to fuss over. At the checkout counter she dug through her moneybag for the tiny wallet she kept for such emergencies and quickly paid the correct sum; muggle studies had been a good choice to take at Hogwarts. She chuckled as she remembered going to that school, even though she had only graduated almost a year ago. Her father had been furious when Lazarus had told him that the hat had put her into Gryffindor.

Satisfied with her purchases, Circe used Floo Powder to get back to her home; there wasn't a fireplace in her dorm room. Once she was in her bedroom, the girl unloaded her bags, grabbed the hair dye, highlights, and a nightshift, and snuck into her mother's bathroom. She spent well over two leisurely hours in there by taking a hot relaxing shower-making sure that no one else in the family could have hot water for the rest of the night- to massage the red dye into her hair and highlighting the hair on either side of her forehead so that in the morning she could have two braids of red, purple, and ocher hanging over her temples. In the process she sampled every one of her mother's scents, soaps, and cosmetics, found black hair dye that Sylvia Malfoy used to keep it a shiny black, and took a lovely blue bottle of perfume that smelled like a delightful mixture of vanilla and lilacs.

Feeling refreshed and hungry, Circe ambled down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking to rummage through the cupboard for food. But she had hardly opened a door when two house elves scampered in and offered her their service. Of course, she had gotten used to serving herself at Ms. Granger's college because the HSM never allowed the elves to pamper the humans, but at home, the elves were ready and willing to work. So she ordered a small pizza and two cans of Dr. Pepper to accompany it. The elves nodded respectfully; they were well used to their mistress's preference for Muggle food. Before they could come back though, Cane entered the room. He stopped short when he saw his little sister already there. Little was correct in all the senses; she two years younger than him-although she had graduated from Hogwarts first-not to mention how she was only 5'3" to his 6'1."

"Surprise!" she snickered.

"Who-Why do you have red hair, Circe? That's what all the Weasels have. Surely you don't think they need another addition to their, um, overly large family?" Cane chuckled at the way he came up with that comeback. Circe sighed pityingly.

"I dyed my hair, dear brother, because I felt like it."

"What are you doing here?" he leered accusingly, his thin black eyebrows narrowing. Her own blonde-white eyebrows raised innocently.

"Me? Isn't this my home?"

"It'd be better for u if it wasn't," he turned the phrase menacingly.
She thought of sighing forlornly, as she would often do in private, but she could never let her brothers see a weakness. For all that, Cane was thickheaded, somewhat slow for a Malfoy, he was also quick to jump to conclusions, and he didn't stop to ask questions. In a way, he was more dangerous than Draco; he didn't have a reputation to think of. Instead, she shrugged.

"That's your opinion, now isn't it? I mean, I wouldn't expect you to like me…especially when I had the option of moving out before you did, being a wee bit smarter and all." His brown-green eyes flashed.

"I wouldn't say that, if I were you." His voice was shaky, but Circe knew better than to assume that he was about to cry; it was suppressed rage. Luckily for her, the elves chose that moment to come in with her food, distracting Cane. She leapt up from her chair.

"Here's my stuff, I think I'll leave the elves to order around as you see fit."

The elves cringed slightly when they saw Cane, but Circe pretended not to notice; they would only get in trouble. Grabbing the tray, she skipped lightly up the stairs as her brother cracked his knuckles ominously behind her. Safe inside her room, the girl allowed a tear to roll down her cheek as she realized that she was alone in the world…because even if she had denied it she knew that Cane was right, she wasn't welcome in this house. She neatly finished the pizza and the sodas, belched lavishly, and crawled into bed.

The next morning she slept late and when she finally groaned to consciousness she checked the muggle clock she kept beside her bed: 1:00; she still had three hours before she had to leave for Bixby's party. First she used the bell pull beside her bed, calling an elf to her, and ordered a light breakfast and the morning paper to be brought up to her room. She took her time about eating it, letting herself enjoy the comic strips. Then she just happened to glance at the clock and realized that she had wasted two out of her three hours. In a frenzy she stripped off her nightshirt and began putting on the robe when she stopped, took it off, put on a strapless high top, her belt with its holster, and some biker shorts, rushed to her mother's bathroom-Sylvia spent all of her time fawning over Draco or over at her friend Millicent Bulstrode's house-and washed her face and combed her hair and brushed her teeth very quickly.

She sprinted back to her room, shrugged on the robe, rushed into her mother's room where Sylvia had a vanity table, and plopped down. With intense concentration and her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, Circe carefully braided the plaits so they weren't crooked and then she used one of the sashes to wrap around her head like a casual handkerchief. She tapped it this way and that until it was just right and then put a spell on it so that it wouldn't move until she took the spell off. She took her belt off, wrapped and tied the other sash around her waist over the robe, and then put the belt back over it with some of the sash showing above and below the belt. With that done, some of the more sparkly bottles on the table caught her eye and so she examined each one in turn. Some were interesting, but Circe considered most of them a waste of her time so she turned her attention to the jewelry door Sylvia had accidentally left open.

Delighted, the girl found two topaz earrings and a black velvet choker with a topaz drop the size of her thumbnail hanging from it which she fixed onto her earlobes and around her neck. There really was no need for makeup; her eyes made yellow by the contacts were stunning enough. Once that chore was completed she sprinted back to her room, unluckily enough her mother's room was on the second floor and her own was on the fourth, and donned two amethyst toe rings, a gold chain ankle bracelet, and her black suede high heels. She checked the bedside clock again: 3:55. She grinned and looked herself over in her full-length mirror in her room, smiling wickedly at what she saw.
One second later she was clattering down the stairs to the ground floor, clutching the gift, racing to get to her broom leaning against the wall near the front door. On the way she bumped into her father, smirked insolently at his startled and horrified expression.

"See ya later, Pops! I'm going to Bixby's birthday party and I needed to get a new robe so that I could dress up enough!" Leaving her father to stutter furiously, she raced on, sweeping up the broom as she ran out the door and in a matter of moments was up in the air, the wind whipping her braids about madly.

There was a crowd of people standing in front of the Weasley house when she arrived, most of which sported red hair. She landed gracefully and left her broom with the others that were already there and then tossed her gift onto the growing pile of presents. Mrs. Weasley, Bixby's grandmother, was standing in front of the door, greeting the guests as they came, but nobody seemed to be paying a lot of attention to her. Circe recognized most of the people in yard, seeing Percy Weasley with his wife Penelope chasing after his two girls, Roslyn and Peony, who were running amuck and pitching blue hair ribbons at the guests as they went. The other politicians, Bixby's parents, were standing in a corner, admiring their work. Mrs. Farhana Weasley, who originally was an intern from Bangladesh, didn't usually do such decorations, but the ones put up were extraordinary.

There were the three bachelors in the family, Charlie the dragon-tamer was chatting with Neville Longbottom while Fred and George were lounging by the snack table trying to entice passing guests to try their new pranks. Bixby's oldest uncle, Bill, was standing with his wife Fleur under a tree and their younger daughters were sitting together on a bench. Their son, the oldest, was talking with Narcissi Kurt-how did she get here? Circe felt a hand on her elbow, Mr. Weasley, the grandfather, whispered in her ear.

"Kenneth is part vela; all the girls go for him."

She turned and grinned at him and watched his face crinkle up into a matching grin. Then she felt her purse at her side and took out the light bulbs.

"I heard you were interested in things that have to do with muggles. I thought you might find these interesting."

"Oh, are you interested in muggles also?" he asked eagerly.

"I took advanced Muggle Studies in school. I found it very amusing, but I'm afraid the only real reason I took the course was to annoy my dad." Mr. Weasley's eyes clouded over for a moment.

"I'm sorry, but I can't place your father…or you for that matter." Circe smirked.

"It figures; I dyed my hair red to annoy him too. His name is Draco Malfoy, I assume you've met him, and my name is Circe Malfoy."

"Oh!" the older man jumped back slightly, "Oh! But…the Malfoys-" Circe grinned wickedly as she was about to reply, but Bixby stopped her first.

"Sorry, Gramps, but I'm gonna steal Circe for a moment." He drew her away.

"Hey, I've been looking all over for purple hair! What happened?" Circe grinned.

"I figured it'd be fun. I'm going over to your uncles to see if they think they had a niece they had forgotten about."

Bixby shook his head, "Nah, they know you too well. Must I remind you that they've met you before? Oh! You have yellow eyes now. I assume you got new contacts?"

"What else? Do you like my outfit?"

"Stunning…where'd you get it?" Circe examined her purple nails-she had painted them a while ago and they still matched her outfit.

"I spent some more of my dad's money. That's all. You enjoying your party?" He pinched some of his dress robes material between his thumb and forefinger and grimaced.

"This fancy stuff was dad's idea, not mine. Oh shoot! Uncle Percy's gesturing at me, I've gotta go."

She watched him run off and then she felt two young bodies hurl into her legs. The redhead must be Roslyn and the younger, a brunette like her mother, must be Peony. While Circe fought for her balance the girls each grabbed one of her hands and started trying to pull her apart. Their mother, a tall, plump woman appeared out of nowhere and hoisted Peony onto her waist and balanced her there then bent over and held Roslyn around the middle. She looked up apologetically.

"Sorry about that. I don't believe I've seen you before. I'm Penelope Weasley." Circe looked down her nose at Roslyn.

"Um, yeah…. My name is Circe Malfoy." The woman's eyes widened in panic.

"You're a Malfoy? Is…is your father here?!" The girl rolled her eyes.

"No. He's too much of a busybody to go to someone's birthday party. Bix invited me."

Circe watched Penelope tow away her daughters and then tried to see where Percy had taken her friend. Instead, she saw Ginny Creevy, the reporter, followed by two other men, indistinguishable except one of them was carrying a camera. The girl's first reaction was: what's a reporter doing here? But then Circe saw the woman's short red hair and identified her as Bixby's Aunt Ginny and the two men following her as Dennis, her husband, and Colin, the one with the camera, Creevy. She remembered the article in the paper and went over to talk to the reporter. Once she was in range, she held out her hand.

"Hello, Mrs. Creevy!" All three of them looked up at her and Colin started taking pictures. Ginny looked surprised for a bit then recovered her composure.

"Oh, hi! I'm sorry, but I can't place you at all!"

"That's all right. My father doesn't talk about me much."

"Oh? Who's your father?" Ginny got out a pad of paper and a pen.

"His name is Draco Malfoy and I am his only daughter, Circe."

"Oh!"

Dennis looked uneasily at the girl and Colin just looked confused. Ginny shared her brother-in-law's expression, "I thought he had only two sons?"

Circe rolled her eyes, "He would. I was in Gryffindor and he thinks that shames the family. My mother doesn't really see the difference between the Gryffindor house and Slytherin, but then she went to Durmstrang."

"Oh, then I guess that's all right. Does he know that you're at Bixby's birthday party? I mean, we all know that Ron and Draco are political rivals, but they pretty much hated each other in school too."

"Oh, he knows!" Circe laughed, "I bumped into him on my way out and I told him then. He hadn't seen me since I graduated from Hogwarts, but think that bump was a little too much for him."

Colin looked concerned now; "He hasn't seen you since you graduated? Not even for Christmas holidays?"

Circe merely laughed, but Ginny thought that the girl's eyes looked a little glassy for a moment. The girl also realized it but she kept her eyes from filling up with water from years of stern practice, "Oh, I guess you could say my family is a little like the Dursleys that Harry Potter had to stay with. I've read all about them. Did you ever meet them?" Ginny nodded.

"We all saw them when Harry's Uncle Vernon came to pick him up from the station at the end of every year. Mum kept trying to get Harry stay the summer with us but that man seemed to think that anywhere that Harry might have fun was evil."

"Same with my dad. I read your article in the paper yesterday about the tribute you brothers are organizing and funding. Only I didn't really realize that you were related at the time. I loved quote you took from my dad."

Ginny grinned as mischievous grin as Circe could ever come up with; "I have my own grudges against your father, thank you very much."

Ginny moved along then over to greet her mother and the two men followed her. Circe's eyes roamed around the yard, and then fell on Parvati Patil and Lavender Kurt talking. Well, that at least would explain Narcissi. Circe then remembered her horoscope and went over to the pair.

"Hi, Ms. Patil. Hi, Mrs. Kurt."

Parvati looked at the girl who approached them with elevator eyes, taking in Circe's entire appearance, "Um, hello. Do I know you?"

"I don't think so. Bix invited me. My name is Circe. I go to the Time College with him. Mrs. Kurt, I wanted to talk to you about your horoscopes." Lavender looked both pleased and flustered to be recognized for her work.

"Oh, yes? What do you want to know?" The girl glanced at her feet for a moment, then met the older woman's eyes.

"You wrote a horoscope yesterday that was rather odd. The caption changed as soon as I looked at it from what it had said originally and after I had read it, it changed back. Do you know what it mea-"

But the two women walked away without a second glance as though Circe didn't exist. She thought it was rude, to say the least. Again, the girl wandered around the garden looking for Percy and Bixby. At last, she saw that Percy had her friend cornered under a weeping willow and he looked anxious to get away if you asked her. The pompous politician probably wouldn't listen to a little old girl, so Circe strode over to the snack table straight into the hands of Fred and George.

"Hey, do you want to try one of these tarts? We made them ourselves," Fred held a plate of little cookies under her nose. Circe shook her head.

"No, actually, I wanted to ask a favour."

George raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And who are you?"

"My name is Circe Malfoy. And I-" Fred clapped his hand onto her shoulder and chuckled; though, he seemed not to notice how the girl seemed to shrink away from his touch and shrug off his hand.

"Circe? But the last time we saw you, you had purple hair and red eyes! Oh, and thanks to you we've become interested in magic dyes. Here's a complimentary set of the dyes and shampoos we've invented as thanks for giving us the inspiration. So, what's the favor?" The girl politely examined the plain brown bottle as she brushed her shoulder off where Fred had touched her and then smiled at the twins.

"Well, your brother Percy has had Bix trapped under that tree over there for over an hour. I don't think Percy would listen to a young girl like me, but if you two…" she winked at them. Fred winked at his brother.

"You're right, this is the girl that Bix wrote to us about. Say no more, Circe; our nephew will suffer no more. George, let's give Weatherby a run for his money!"

Circe trailed the twins and watched them grab the politician's arms and lead him over to the snack bar where they promptly proceeded to stuff him with various trick tarts and candies and chocolates. Then she went into the willow.

Bixby saw her coming, "Thanks! Am I correct in believing that you're the one who alerted Uncle George and Uncle Fred?" Circe started rubbing her arms, was it suddenly chillier under this tree, or was it just her? She forced herself to stop and smile at him.

"Yeah, I saw Percy blathering on as I always hear he-"

But Bixby had also seen how she rubbed her arms and looked concerned, "Are you cold? Oh, you're wearing a sleeveless robe! It's March, not May, you know. Do you want to go inside?"

The girl flung her chin up, but the boy probably would think nothing of it as he was about a foot taller than she was anyway. Circe arched her brow at him derisively, instead.

"It's not cold in the slightest!" she declared, lying through her teeth.

The boy ignored her declaration and threw his arm around her shoulders companionably, though she winced and shrunk inside herself even more than she had when Fred had touched her. Bixby didn't notice this either and led her to the house.

"Oh, you're cold, I can tell. Let's find a jacket or somethin' for you to wear. Don't you try to draw away! You're shivering and I can feel it."

Circe nodded in agreement, but stared at the ground so he couldn't see her face in case there was a tic going in her jaw or something. Why did he have to insist on holding her like this? It wasn't that she didn't like him, but the only other people who had ever touched her like this had been her brothers using her as a punching bag or as an object on which to take out their anger. Even Draco, who had to look pleasant for the sake of the public eye, did not skimp at slapping or hitting her to make a lesson, particularly in his idea of etiquette, stick. For some reason, Bixby didn't notice how tense and uptight she was, or he seemed to think it was the cold, but Mrs. Weasley, who they had to pass to get inside, did notice.

But what she saw first was her grandson holding a girl close to him, and so she squealed, "Ooooh, I'm going to have great-grandchildren!"

Both college students blushed until their faces and their hair clashed, but Bixby make a joke of it by whispering that his grandmother was going senile. And with that, he left Circe sitting at the kitchen table so he could find a suitable wrap, but Mrs. Weasley wasted no time in coming in and sitting next to the girl.

The older woman's eyes looked her up and down, just as Parvati's had done, and said, "I don't believe we've met."

"We haven't," the girl retorted shortly, suddenly very petulant.

"Come, come, tell me who your grandparents are; I bet you I've met them."

"I don't bloody think so. My maternal grandparents live in Russia and my paternal grandfather hated your guts," she snapped. Mrs. Weasley sniffed haughtily and left, leaving Circe in peace. Bixby chose that moment to come back in with a black and white striped wool shawl and held it up with a rueful grin.

"This was all I could find." She stood up and forced a smile.

"It doesn't matter. Let's go back outside."

Circe turned and walked out of the door leaving her friend to hurry after her, still carrying the shawl. But she stopped short a few feet from the stoop and stared at the sky, causing Bixby to bump into her. He looked up as well and gripped her shoulders tightly under the pretense of putting on the shawl; Cameron and Alphonsa were dropping down uninvited into the party on broomsticks. None of the adults or any of Bixby's relatives had noticed incoming brooms, Narcissi and Everard-she must have missed him earlier-did and started to make their way over to the duo in front of the house.

Circe winced both from the fact of the touch and from the pain as her friend's fingers dug into her flesh. At least she knew why he was apprehensive: he and Cameron had been best friends at Hogwarts but they had fought in their fourth year over her, mostly because Bixby hung out with her and Cameron didn't like it. The situation had been temporarily remedied when Cameron had been switched to Durmstrang, but it hadn't helped. Now Cameron landed his broom and left it with the others dumped his present just as Circe had done, and strolled over to greet the birthday boy.

"So, you're still hanging out with the freak?" he asked conversationally. Circe almost yelped as Bixby squeezed her shoulders tighter, but she knew it wouldn't help him.

"She's not a freak!" she heard her friend counter through clenched teeth.

Just then Parvati and Mrs. Weasley rang the dinner gong and everyone watched as the snack bar disappeared and three huge tables with silver settings popped into existence in the air and then drifted to the ground. Straight away all the guests and kids of 25 years and under fought for seats at the first two tables while the grown-ups filled out the third table without fuss. Cameron turned to get a seat, but before he had completely joined the throng fighting for seats, he called over his shoulder.

"Any Malfoy who was in the Gryffindor house can't be anything but a freak!"

Bixby let go of her shoulders, but before Circe could feel relieved he had grabbed her arm and started yanking her into the crowd. By the time the two of them had found a seat together she was sure that she would find bruises as bad as any her brothers had ever given her. But miraculously they had found seats together and Circe felt that was worth the agony, even though she had Roslyn seated on her other side. As much as, Circe felt she ought to enjoy the meal, which the two Mrs. Weasleys most certainly had personally slaved over, the various foods were sawdust in her mouth and nothing more.

Before the dinner was over, she and Roslyn, who had excellent manners at the table, if nowhere else, had had a silent battle of who was the more disdainful and pompous, and Circe had given up trying to talk to Bixby over the noise. The rest of the party was relatively nondescript; Bixby blew out nineteen candles on three different cakes-one for each table-and opened all the presents in the course of two hours. During that time lights like Chinese lanterns had been lit all over the yard to fight off the encroaching blackness, and everybody nodded appreciatively as each of the gifts was unwrapped, though Circe didn't enjoy it very much as Alphonsa and Cameron kept taking turns poking her and making fun of her shawl. At last, it was time to leave and she and Bixby stood together for the first time since the dinner.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" Bixby asked sociably. Circe shook her head.

"No, the Head Sergeant Master wants me to do this test. I'm not sure how long it will last."

"All day? That's a long test."

"No, it could last a week, she said. It's not in this time. Listen, I've got to go to bed; I have to be in her office at nine, tomorrow morning. Bye!"

And with that Circe took up her broom and rode home. She vaguely remembered getting ready for bed, but for the most part, she just fell into bed. The next morning, after she took a shower and washed the temporary red out of her hair, leaving the permanent purple. She ordered the house elves to make her some good bread that wouldn't spoil and she found a nice warm cloak to wear over a robe, which in turn was thrown over a muggle sweater and a muggle ankle-length skirt; who knew what time she'd be thrown into, especially if it was before the twentieth century. She threw in all sorts of cosmetic disguises, which she could put on in a hurry, double-checked that she had everything, and rode her broom to the college. Ms. Granger met her at the door and led her inside.