William Parson tapped his knuckles on the door to his daughter's bedroom.
"Breakfast in ten minutes, Bethy."
"All right."
Beth was already awake, and in fact, almost completely ready to leave forHogwarts that morning. Her books had been bought, her clothes packed, her wand installed safely in her pocket where she had kept it since her seventeenth birthday the previous February. She had only one more thing to do.
Tugging open the closet doors, she thrust her arm into the darkness and clicked her tongue a little. Soon enough, she felt a handful of pinpricks on her outstretched finger as a set of tiny claws dug into the skin. She withdrew her arm with the family bat, Mercator, clinging to her index finger. The small brown creature had carried messages to Azkaban for many years; her father had stopped the practice after a brush with the law, but Beth couldn't help sending occasional notes to Lycaeon, however brief.
Letting Mercator climb up her arm, she took a scrap of paper and scrawled:
Lycaeon had never had his N.E.W.T.s, she mused, tugging Mercator from her earlobe and fastening the paper to his leg. Chris, the oldest and an achiever in the mold of his mother, had managed ten. But it was only a few months later that the Ministry had caught them both in the service of the Dark Lord. For all his academic honors, Chris was now little more than a broken mind in a solitary cell.
Sighing, Beth carried Mercator to the open window. "Come find me at Hogwarts," she ordered him. "I'll need you this year."
With an obedient twitter, Mercator fluttered up from her hands and glided out the window, heading north ... north to the sea, the cold nights, and the island fortress of Azkaban.
Beth had every intention of going to King's Cross Station on her own, but her father insisted on coming along: "As it's the last time," he pointed out fondly. They took the Floo to the platform and moved to the side to say their goodbyes.
"There's Bruce," said Beth, glancing around the platform.
Mr. Parson smiled, and Beth - for the first time - recognized how sad his smile truly was. It had always been that way. How had she never noticed that, even in joy, her father could never shake away the sorrow he had seen in his life?
"Don't wait too long to write," said Mr. Parson.
Beth leaned over and wrapped him in a hug.
"I'll miss you," she said, suddenly dangerously close to tears.
"Have a good year, Bethy," said her father softly.
She had always felt safe in his arms. But the goodbye couldn't last forever. They parted fondly; Beth, turning once to wave, took up her trunk and started across the platform toward Bruce Bletchley.
A brown-skinned girl with an athletic build stood with him. It was the same girl, Beth realized, that he had taken to the Yule Ball: Kiesha Chambers, a Chaser on the Ravenclaw team. Bruce spotted her and Beth waved, dragging her trunk towards them.
Bruce, hands in his pockets, tipped his chin in greeting. "Hullo."
"Hi." Beth looked over at Kiesha. "Nice to see you again."
Kiesha returned her smile with a big grin. "How've you been?"
"Fine," said Beth, with only a twinge of conscience at the blatant lie. "How was your summer?"
"Hot, dry and horrible," said Kiesha, making a face. "The drought hit us bad. My parents' flower bed looked like the Sahara desert."
"My dad's garden was a wreck, too," Beth agreed. "Nothing did well except the zucchini."
"That's worse," Kiesha winked.
Just then a tiny girl, indubitably a first-year, bounded off of the train to join them. Beth assumed she was a friend of Kiesha's, but the little girl stopped beside Bruce and gazed up at him cheerfully.
"I've put my things in the baggage cab, Bruce, just beside yours, all right?"
"That's fine," said Bruce. "Someone else will unload them for us when we get there."
"Who?" she asked.
Bruce shrugged. "I don't know, house elves maybe." He glanced over at Beth. "Beth, you remember my little sister Sally?"
Beth had seen both his sister and his mother before, at Diagon Alley or King's Cross, but she had never met his father: Mr. Bletchley had died not long after Bruce started at Hogwarts. Sally wore her hair in two long braids; it was, Beth noticed, the exact same nondescript grayish-brown as Bruce's. "Hello, Sally," said Beth politely.
"She's starting at Hogwarts this year," Bruce added, somewhat unnecessarily.
"Wow." During their own first year, his sister had been five years old and little enough to be carried. Beth suddenly felt extremely old. "I mean, congratulations."
"Thank you, but it's not as if I've done anything, is it?" Bruce's sister said. She had a very confident, practical tone that seemed strange coming from such a young face. "Just turned eleven, that's all."
"Living with him, we're just impressed you made it that far," Kiesha said seriously.
"Right, eleven years, I don't know how you did it," Beth agreed. "It's six for me and I can't stand him."
The train whistle sounded overhead, and Bruce, running a faint blush, interrupted hastily. "We'd better get on board before we're left behind." He turned to his sister. "You could sit with us, if you like."
Sally gazed up at him, unperturbed. "I think I'll find a seat with someone my own age, thanks," she said. "See you at the Sorting, Bruce!"
She stood up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek. Then, without so much as a wave farewell, she turned and climbed onto the train.
Bruce watched her go with unconcealed amazement.
"I was terrified to get on the train my first time," he said, more to himself than to the girls.
"What's she got to worry about?" Kiesha teased, taking hold of his arm. "If anyone gives her trouble, her big brother'll beat them up."
"And how," said Bruce fervently.
The train whistle sounded and the puffs of steam from the engine became more insistent. They climbed aboard; the shrill siren of the Hogwarts Express let out its cry once more, and the long mechanical snake began to wind its way North.
The Hogwarts Express was so familiar, so cozy and safe, that Beth found it hard to remember that there was even a Dark Lord out there - let alone one that practically owned her. She slipped into the conversation easily; she had only spent a few hours with Kiesha, at the Yule Ball the previous year, but she found the Ravenclaw very friendly and easy to talk to. Often Beth enjoyed just sitting back and listening to the two elaborate on their mutual favorite subject: Quidditch.
"I don't understand," said Bruce, for maybe the fourth time in an hour. "The Tornadoes have been absolute rubbish for at least twenty years, and here they go winning the league championship."
"New assistant coach," Kiesha reminded him. "And their second string is finally up to scratch - remember when they'd have an injury, and you just knew they were doomed for the season? This year, even after Ballycastle took out both Beaters they were able to come back. They would've never been able to do that last year."
"I'm not sure an assistant coach and a second string can win you a league championship," Bruce argued, but without heart. Slytherins talked that way, Beth thought. Answering questions with questions, playing devil's advocate. It kept the conversation rolling.
"Clearly, it has," said Kiesha mildly. "About time, too. Cho's going to be thrilled. Cho Chang," she explained, to Beth. "She's crazy about the Tornadoes. She's got posters all over the dormitory. I favor the Harpies," she sighed, "but this wasn't the year, I guess..." She jerked her thumb at Bruce. "Of course Bletchley here had to rub it in every time he wrote me."
"Hang on," Beth interrupted, "he wrote you over the summer?"
"Once a week," said Kiesha.
"Do you know how many times he ever wrote me?" Beth demanded.
"Beth..." said Bruce painfully.
"Three. Ever. I don't know, you must be pretty special or something."
"I'm just good for snoggin'," said Kiesha cheekily. "Eh, handsome?"
Bruce blushed red to the tips of his hair.
Melissa turned up about an hour later, after the prefects' meeting in the first compartment had ended. "Guess who the new prefects are," she said, sliding into the seat beside Beth. "Hello," she said to Kiesha, as an afterthought, who returned the greeting.
"Draco Malfoy," said Beth instantly.
Melissa looked almost affronted. "How did you know?"
"You looked excited," Beth said, rolling her eyes. "You've loved the kid since we met him."
"On this very train," said Melissa nostalgically. "Four years to the day."
"Who did you say the other one was?" Bruce interrupted. His opinion of Draco Malfoy was not as high as Melissa's.
"Oh - Pansy Parkinson," said Melissa, her face falling a little. "I don't quite understand it, I was really expecting it to be Blaise..." She fell silent for a moment, thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Oh well. Dumbledore works in mysterious ways."
"Amen," said Beth, eyeing Melissa's own prefect badge.
"I don't suppose you noticed who it was for Ravenclaw?" Kiesha said hopefully.
"Who cares?" Melissa tossed off. She paused in realization. "Oh I'm sorry, I forgot-"
But Kiesha only tilted her head thoughtfully and said, "Funny, isn't it? We always make sure to notice who it is for Slytherin. It can determine what kind of year we have."
"Ah," said Melissa, a little pink. "Well-"
Very fortunately, her stammering was interrupted just then by the lunch cart, and for a few moments they were all heavily distracted by the selection of sweets and sandwiches. Minutes later (even before Bruce had finished his first pair of Cauldron Cakes), the door to the compartment swung open and their fellow seventh-year Slytherins, Aaron Pucey and Mervin Fletcher, peered inside.
"Can we join you?"
"Sure." Beth scooted over to make room for them. "I thought you were sitting with Warrington."
Aaron and Mervin made identical faces of disgust. "We were," said Mervin bitterly, "until Antigone showed up."
"It was revolting," said Aaron. "We had to leave." He glanced up and his eyes narrowed as he noticed Kiesha for the first time. "Who're you?"
Kiesha stuck out her hand. "Kiesha Chambers."
Aaron started to shake her hand, then abruptly dropped it. "The Ravenclaw Chaser? You scored some eighty points on us last year in the scrimmage!"
"Bloody right," said Kiesha promptly. Beth found herself liking the girl more and more as time went on. "Would've been more but Bletchley here got lucky a few times."
"Lucky!" said Aaron indignantly, and Bruce blushed red again (he seemed to be more susceptible to that, Beth noticed, with Kiesha around). "If Bruce is half so lucky this year we'll take the Quidditch Cup in a walk. And with him as captain - you'd better tell your boy Davies to hang up his broom before he embarrasses himself."
"Roger has no intention of hanging up his broom," said Kiesha, almost relishing the fight, "and neither do I."
"I didn't know you'd be captain this year," said Beth, to Bruce. "Congratulations."
"He's really the only choice," said Melissa practically, as Bruce's blush started to flare up again. "Four years of experience ought to count for something. Not that Warrington hasn't got just as much," she added to Aaron, "but, you know..."
"Right, he's a bit thick," agreed Aaron, with complete equanimity.
"Yes, exactly," said Melissa.
"It was odd," said Bruce, frowning slightly. "I thought they'd mention it in my school letter." He shrugged. "Quidditch trials are going to be interesting, that's for sure. We need two new Beaters and I'm not sure yet how the Chasers are going to shake out-"
"I'm trying out," said Aaron immediately. "My arm's healed up, I can write and everything-"
"We'll see," said Bruce patiently.
They spent a long time guessing at the probable members of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams. Gryffindor was only lacking a Keeper, Oliver Wood having left school and gone professional two years ago, and someone had to be elected replacement captain, but Hufflepuff had graduated both Beaters and a Chaser. Of course, they had also lost their Seeker.
"Cedric was good," said Kiesha in a troubled tone, and Bruce nodded assent. "Really good. He really thought that Hufflepuff had a chance this year."
Beth and Melissa exchanged a glance. The whole Society knew that Cedric Diggory had magically enhanced his abilities with the Transcongus Brew, which had ultimately claimed his life; but in the course of trying to save him, Beth had come to respect his drive and sense of honor.
Even Aaron looked a little subdued at the mention of Cedric. "I wonder what Diggory did to himself in there," he said, shaking his head. "I heard there wasn't a mark on his body."
Kiesha cocked her head. "You don't believe what Dumbledore told us at the end of last year?"
Aaron snorted. "The fellow's half mad."
"Well, that's true," Kiesha agreed.
The rest of them, who knew perfectly well who had killed Cedric Diggory, remained silent.
The train rumbled on, through mountain and valley, ever northward. The weather changed almost as much as the scenery; one moment the window would be full of pale sunlight, then the train would round a bend and come under the shadow of clouds. There were even a few bouts of halfhearted rain. By dusk it had settled into a cold, cloudy dreariness, the air heavy with unfallen rain. The Hogwarts Express screeched into the Hogsmeade well after nightfall, illuminated only by the pale lamps at the station. The Quidditch boys got lost somehow in the disembarking, so Beth, Melissa and Mervin hung together as they fought their way through the crowd.
"First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!"
All three of them swiveled toward the voice. The gray-haired witch swinging a lantern and collecting firsties was definitely not Hagrid.
"Grubbs," said Beth in amazement.
"Professor Grubbly-Plank," Melissa corrected absently. "How odd, I wonder where Hagrid is."
Mervin snorted. "If we're lucky, he's come to his senses and resigned."
"Maybe," said Melissa, brightening. "Hopefully we'll have a few good lessons before he comes back. She's sure to know what to teach us for the N.E.W.T.s."
Beth led them out of the station towards the horseless carriages. She didn't say anything, but the fact that the groundskeeper had vanished and been replaced with a Society member struck her as ominous.
The three of them found an unoccupied carriage and crammed in. As soon as the door was closed, it lurched to life and began to roll up the path. The wheels squelched in the muddy ruts made by the carriages before it; the air streaming past was slightly chilly and smelled like spring. The train of carriages wound, snakelike, past the lake, through the pine forests, and finally through the great iron gates that bordered the Hogwarts grounds.
They were back in Hogwarts at last.
