Chapter Eight:

Getting Off the Ground

Ethan awoke to the sound of earnest voices across the room.

"How does this work?"

"Oh, I see, today's a Thursday, so we have Defense Against the Dark Arts first."

"It's in the basement, with the Harrisons. What a way to start off!"

"Well, at least they rotate. We only start off in the basement once a week."

Ethan poked his head out of the bed hangings, reached for his glasses and saw Peter Powles and Marcus Gibson conferring over a scroll.

"Good morning, Ethan," Marcus said. "Sorry if we woke you, but breakfast started fifteen minutes ago, which means we've got just over an hour until class."

"So that's our schedule?" Ethan asked as he climbed out of bed to look at the scroll. "Gee, they don't exactly give us much free time, do they?"

"Nope," said Peter glumly. "Wednesday between about 4 and dinner time is "free study," but every other day we're in class from 8:30 to 5:00."

"Well, the last session the other four days is either art, music or flying," Marcus observed. "So at least the end of the day isn't heavy-duty stuff."

"And since this is Thursday, that means we have our first flying lesson this afternoon!" Peter said more enthusiastically.

Tim came in from the bathroom, already dressed.

"Hey, Tim, you don't need to wear your hat to class," Peter told him. "Unless of course the professor requires it."

"Oh, OK," Tim replied, looking abashed. "Thanks, Pete. Hey, we better wake Kyle, he'll be late."

Ethan rummaged in his trunk, pulled out his clothes and started getting dressed.

Marcus, Peter and Tim went over to the bed at the end of the room. Marcus gave a whispered count of three and then all of them called out, "Good morning, Kyle!"

A groggy-sounding Kyle answered them from within the bed curtains.

"Don't want to ruin your beauty sleep, man," Marcus intoned. "But it's almost 7 and by the time we find our way out of this tower and down to breakfast, we'll barely have enough time to get to class."

"OK, I'm up," Kyle said as he emerged from his bed.

"Don't want to lose any points on the first day," Peter said.

Fifteen minutes later the five of them, each with a heavy book bag on his back, headed through the common room door and back up the Disconcerting Stair on the way down to breakfast. Ethan wasn't sure that having five minds trying to remember the route was an advantage. They took several minutes to figure out how to get the sliding door to open from the other side--Marcus leaned on the right panel purely by accident--and a few minutes later they had a major disagreement deciding which way to turn at the bottom of a staircase.

"Can we even be sure it's still going the same way it did last night?" Tim asked. "I'm going to the right. I figure I've got a 50/50 chance of being right. You're all welcome to follow me; or you can keep talking until class time."

The others shrugged and followed him, happy that someone had taken the initiative. And they were glad they had when they hurried into the Assembly Hall a few minutes later and sat down at the Bradbury table for breakfast.

The first-year Bradbury girls were just finishing breakfast.

"We wondered when you'd manage to make it down here," Anne said impishly. "Come on; gulp down some breakfast so we can find the Dark Arts classroom together."

The boys rolled their eyes at this remark. Ethan hurried through a glass of orange juice and porridge. The others also finished quickly. At about a quarter to eight, Kenny Sturtevant came walking alongside the table, with an air of seriousness suitable for a proctor.

"Come on now," he exclaimed. "Off to the dungeons with you. Down the Main Hall, take the second hallway down to the left, then head down the first staircase on your right. It's the classroom with the Ki-lin tapestry hanging outside."

Yawning, Tim asked, "What's a Ki-lin?"

"A kind of Chinese unicorn," Kenny told him. "You can't miss it...unless you get caught up on the collapsing stair tread half way down there...keep your eyes open!"

Led by Anne, the girls marched out of the Assembly Hall, the boys scrambling after them. By the time they reached the Main Hall, they joined the confused throngs off to classrooms all over the building.

From behind him, Ethan heard a voice calling him. He glanced back and saw Edwin Malinowski rushing to catch up.

"Do you know where you're going?" Edwin asked breathlessly. "I know we both have Ang Hsu first period. I don't know where the rest of the Harrisons have got to."

"Well, if I can follow them," Ethan answered, pointing to Anne and the other Bradburys ahead of them, "I can probably get you there."

Now they zipped around the corner into the side hallway, then quickly down the staircase. At this point, Ethan almost ran up someone's back and Edwin pulled up short behind him, for everyone had slowed down to avoid the trick stair.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Ethan saw why Kenny had called it the "dungeon" rather than just the basement. Lit only by occasional torches, the hall was gloomy, with shadows flickering into the distance. The floors were dark, irregular stones. Several suits of medieval armor loomed along the corridor. Even the paintings seemed less friendly. One featured a wizard fighting a trio of threatening trolls. Another depicted a somewhat sinister alchemist pouring silvery liquids into a retort.

Outside the second classroom hung a tapestry featuring a most unusual creature, which seemed to have the body of a deer, horse hooves, the tail of an ox and scales instead of fur. A single horn jutted out of its forehead, but it certainly didn't match Ethan's vision of a unicorn.

Into the classroom the first-years rushed. Rows of long desks with several chairs each were arranged to left and right. Edwin saw that most of his housemates had already arrived and occupied the right side of the room.

"Thanks, Ethan," he said as he found a seat next to Cindy Hotaling. The Bradburys filled in the left side. Ethan sat down, next to Tim, and flung his bag down on the floor next to him. He quickly pulled the text, Light in the Darkness: Strategies for Defense Against the Dark Arts, out of the book bag.

A moment later, Ang Hsu walked slowly to the center of the room from an office off to the left. Ethan thought he looked even shorter and older than he had appeared the night before. But his hazel eyes danced with a youthful gleam as he surveyed the new students. He walked up to the front of the room and bowed deeply to the class.

"Good morning, class," he said in a measured voice. "It seems I have the privilege of giving the first class of your careers here. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why do you think we teach such a subject here?"

Suddenly shy, the new students sat silently for a few seconds.

"Any ideas?" the professor asked as he looked over the room. "Let's see now...Mr. Lloyd?"

"Ummm," Ethan stammered as he tried to think. "Because...because not all wizards are good?"

A few tentative snickers broke out.

"Not all wizards are good," Hsu repeated. "Absolutely right. Five points to Bradbury, Mr. Lloyd. In the very nature of things, good and evil are always struggling with each other. The world is always seeking balance, balance between dark and light, order and chaos, sun and moon. In the world you have now entered, the fortunes of good and evil have ever ebbed and flowed. Whenever dark wizards have sought domination, good wizards have arisen to reestablish harmony and balance. And always new dark wizards emerge to challenge. It is my role to equip you for your part in the eternal struggle. Now, what do you think I should teach you first?"

This time hands were raised all over the room.

"Ah, Mr. Rozema? What do you think?"

A red-haired Harrison boy volunteered, "How to defeat an Imperius Curse?"

"Very well. Another...Mr. Gibson?"

"How to resist dementors?"

"An important skill. But let's see...one more, at least; Miss Morrigan?"

"How to block an evil wizard probing your mind?"

"Excellent suggestion. All excellent. Five points each to your houses. But, as a wise muggle once said, education often makes a straight ditch out of a free, meandering brook. We must resist that path, scholars," Hsu admonished them. "Before anyone can teach you to resist curses, you must learn to find harmony in your own minds. So the first thing I ask you to do is this: Relax and close your eyes. Imagine inner harmony. Let your anxieties and worries slip away. Empty your minds of disharmony. Be at peace with yourselves and the world."

As Hsu spoke, Ethan had closed his eyes and begun taking long, slow breaths. He tried to visualize his worries: a huge lamp falling at the ballpark, the break-in on the train, his fears of failure at school, a vague recollection of troubling dreams. As the professor continued in his soothing voice, Ethan watched as each of these concerns drifted away. What remained seemed to be a warm glow, within which he caught glimpses of his parents, the Belangers, his friends in Madison, Bucky, his new roommates and, oddly, the gaunt figure of Cyrus Flyte.

Hsu stopped talking and the only sound was that of the slow breathing of twenty students. Gradually Ethan realized that some sounded remarkably like they were snoring.

"Very good, now open your eyes," Hsu directed. As Ethan opened his, he realized that Tim had relaxed so completely he'd fallen asleep. Ethan elbowed him gently and he awoke, a bit startled.

"Did you all feel the inner harmony?" Hsu asked. "A very good start, I would say. And for those of you who relaxed so much as to fall asleep, I say you did very well. However, do not expect me to allow you to sleep in this class for long. As you learn to discipline your inner selves, we will begin to explore how you may use that discipline against the dark forces of wizardry."

At the end of the hour, Ethan felt very relaxed but not entirely certain what Defense Against the Dark Arts was about.

There wasn't much chance to think about it, as the Bradburys had to rush upstairs to the Transfiguration classroom on the 2nd floor, where Terence Tiverton taught them together with the Tenskwatawas. Tiverton seemed to be Tsu's opposite in temperament and approach. A pale wizard with a brown birthmark on one cheek, Tiverton was given to excited discussion of various transfiguration techniques, punctuated by nervous tics. Occasionally he would stop short and gaze off into space.

Ethan discovered that Tiverton was not above favoring his own house in class, either. He tended to direct the more difficult questions to the Bradburys and was much more forgiving of his own house when they answered incorrectly.

Tiverton did impress everyone when he turned his desk chair into a llama and back, but he then gave rather confused instructions to the class on how to transform wood screws into nut picks. Ethan had no luck following the directions and his screw was unchanged at the end of the class. It was some comfort that the students who'd grown up in wizarding families did no better. In fact, only Tim Van der Meulen had any luck at all. He'd managed to remove the threads from the screw and hook the end, although it still had a slotted head.

At lunch, he had a chance to share impressions with his housemates, but not before he got a bit of a ribbing.

"What did you think of Dark Arts?" Jennifer Appelbaum asked.

"Well, I thought it might be more hands-on," Peter said.

"At least we won't forget why we need it, thanks to Ethan," Marcus said.

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked.

"You know...'Not all wizards are good'!" Peter chimed in. "That was so profound, dude!"

Everyone giggled and Ethan blushed.

"Hey, I was talking off the top of my head, guys."

"Well, it got us our first five points, so I'm not complaining," Tim said. "And Marcus and Maddie got us ten more."

After lunch it was off to the Astronomy classroom at the top of Harrison Tower for a class shared with the Tituba students. There Ethan learned that on Wednesdays at midnight, they'd be up doing observations.

On the way to Herbology, which took place out in the greenhouses with the Harrisons, Ethan grumbled.

"I can't believe we have to be up every Wednesday night looking at stars. So much for Wednesday being an easy day."

"Thursday mornings, you mean," Tim corrected him. "Not that it makes a difference. I had a hard enough time waking up this morning as it is."

Looking to his left as they neared the greenhouses, Ethan saw a low stone cottage across a field across the road. Beyond the ground looked marshy. Still further to the west, woods towered over the swamp and enclosed the school grounds.

"I heard that that's where Standish, the Grounds keeper, lives," Marcus said. "Odd fellow, apparently. Probably comes from living so close to the Haunted Swamp."

"What's it haunted by?" Ethan asked.

"Not sure, exactly," Marcus answered. "But there's talk of werewolves, tricksters and worse. Standish is about the only one from the school who goes in there...and into Spook Woods. 'Least that's what the proctors say."

At the door of Greenhouse Number Two, Euell Crockett beckoned to the students impatiently.

"Come, come, ladies and gentleman," he barked. "We haven't all day, you know."

Crockett was wearing brown work robes under a dirty smock. His thinning hair stood up wildly in all directions. His face was etched with deep lines so that Ethan thought he resembled a carved stone statue. His eyes were blue, but tinged with spidery red lines, as if he wasn't getting enough sleep.

The students lined up along a plant table that ran the length of the greenhouse, Harrisons along one side, Bradburys along the other. Many plants--some ordinary-looking, others quite outlandish--lined the center of the table. Ethan saw before him a spindly plant with yellowish flowers and a few broad green leaves along its stalk. Next to him, Tim examined a bushy plant with many feathery silver-grey leaves. Further down the table Edwin was looking at a lush dark-green plant with purple flowers and a pair of leaves shaped remarkably like human hands.

Crockett took roll call, sometimes pausing to eye a particular student more carefully or to make a comment about parents or older siblings he'd taught years earlier.

"Anne Findlay," he growled. "I trust you will apply yourself to herbology more effectively than your brothers."

"Jeremy Holsapple. I hope you've inherited your mother's talent for herbology; I'm afraid your father was hopeless in this class."

"Now, let's begin," Professor Crockett began in a guttural voice as he walked around the table. "First of all, know that there will be little in the way of wand-waving and spell-casting in this class. Here you will learn the subtle magic of the amazing plants that we find all around us. Some of you may be surprised that seeking out rare flowers, digging up roots and harvesting seeds is even worth the consideration of witches and wizards. I can assure you, however, that in this greenhouse you may learn to counter some of the most evil curses conceived by wizardkind. If you apply yourselves to my lessons, you will sharpen your awareness of the magic found in ordinary plants and discover rare herbs with properties muggles--and even many of our own kind-- would dismiss as fantasies or nightmares. For those few of you with a true aptitude for herbology, I can show you plants that will wake those who seem dead, show you the inner thoughts of your enemies, even preserve a man in a dreamless trance for years."

Most of the students paid close attention to Crockett's speech. Some seemed genuinely fascinated; the rest simply looked terrified by this gruff wizard and the unknown powers of the plants before them. Ethan had started jotting down notes with his quill when Tim nudged him.

"Do you know what this is?" he whispered, pointing at the plant in front of him. "It looks like something I've seen...or maybe it was in his book."

"My mom has that in her herb garden, I'm sure," Ethan whispered back. "What is it? Wormwood, that's it!"

They hadn't noticed that Crockett had come up their side of the table until they heard his voice directly behind them.

"Of course, at a minimum, I expect that each of you will pay attention in class," Crockett said acidly. "Let's see now, Mr. Lloyd, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Griffin and Diana Lloyd's son?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, perhaps a child of such illustrious parentage comes to us with such natural talent that he need not listen in class," Crockett continued. "So, Mr. Lloyd, what is the primary use of Mimulus Cupriphilus?"

Ethan blushed crimson. Mimulus what? he thought to himself. A quick look at Tim revealed that his friend knew no more than he.

"I don't know, sir," Ethan said quietly.

"You don't know, eh?" Crockett snorted derisively. "Thought you could coast here, son? Well, let's try again, Lloyd. Lobelia and hellebore can be combined to what effect?"

Ethan felt like crawling under the table by now. Even if he'd known this answer, he was so flustered he doubted he'd be able to repeat it. Snickers could be heard from some of the Harrisons opposite him. He saw a raised hand down the table to his right, which he saw belonged to Maddie Morrigan. Crockett ignored her.

"I don't know, sir," Ethan said again, staring at the table.

"You don't know?" Crockett repeated, one eyebrow arched disdainfully. "Dear, dear, it appears that having the right parents doesn't count for much these days. Well, Lloyd, once more. If my colleague Professor Renfro offered you a potion made with aconite, should you drink it or massage it into your skin?"

Ethan thought about guessing the answer to this question. After all, he figured, he had a fifty percent chance of being right. But he decided that Crockett would realize he'd just been guessing if he was right and that his credit would fall even further if he guessed wrong. He noticed that Edwin had raised his hand, down to Ethan's right on the Harrison side.

"I don't know, sir. But Edwin may, why not ask him?"

"Because I'm asking you," Crockett said curtly. Edwin sheepishly lowered his hand. "Now, Lloyd, allow me to enlighten you. Mimulus Cupriphilus --an example of which sits before you at the moment-- may be used in an infusion or a talisman that will give you courage against any fear that you can name. Lobelia and hellebore are powerful sedatives; they may be combined in a potion known as Rip's 20-Year Sleeping Draught, for which there is but one known antidote. Aconite may be used as a liniment to heal boils such as those caused by exposure to bubotuber pus, but when ingested is a swift and effective poison."

He glanced up and down the table. "I trust that all of you have taken note of that." Parchments rustled and quills scratched. "And I hope that you all understand...I don't care a whit who your parents are or how interested you are in this subject. You will all work in this class or you will fail. If you fail, you will work harder until you succeed. Oh, and that will be two points from Bradbury, Lloyd, for your dismal performance."

Ethan felt this was most unfair, but thought better of saying anything to Crockett. And that made him feel even more miserable for the remainder of the class.

Crockett described each plant on the table in some detail. Ethan took notes along with everyone else, but without much enthusiasm, even for the stranger plants. The odd plant with hands in front of Edwin turned out to be a Grasping Galardia, known for its extremely firm handshake.

As he left the greenhouse, Ethan wondered whether he might prefer Mrs. Schwartzberg to Crockett and Tiverton. He was lost in his own thoughts for a few minutes and didn't notice that Tim was hurrying to catch up to him.

"Hey, Ethan, wait up!"

"Are you sure you want to hang around a worthless slacker like me?" Ethan asked gloomily.

"Oh, come on man, don't take him seriously," Tim said.

"You heard what Kenny said last night," Ethan retorted. "'Don't get on his bad side.' I should lose another five points for not following proctors' directions."

"If you ask me, he seemed to have it in for you," Tim said. "You didn't do anything that terrible. He could just as easily have picked on me."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make me feel any better," Ethan sulked. "If he just doesn't like me --or my family-- I may not be able to do anything right in his eyes."

"Buck up, you're still three points ahead on the day," Tim said breezily. "And flying's next! You'll probably be a natural at that."

"Oh yeah," said Ethan, who'd completely forgotten what was next on the schedule. "I've never flown in my life. I'll probably crash into something and lose another ten points or so."

"Well, then maybe we can crash together," Tim said. "You can probably guess that I've never been on a broom either. The only one at our house stayed in the kitchen closet unless Mom was sweeping."

The other three Bradbury boys caught up to them and tried to cheer Ethan up, without much success. The others couldn't hide their enthusiasm for flying. Marcus was the only one who'd used a broom for flying and he was more than happy to offer tips to his housemates.

"Mom and Dad never let me try a broom," Peter said. "Said I wasn't coordinated enough. But they let Katrina start flying when we were 8. It's so unfair!"

"You've just got to relax, then it's easy," Marcus said. "I think some brooms sense fear, so it's best not to show it if you're nervous."

"What if you get nervous after you're way off the ground?" asked Peter.

"Well, once you're in the air, the feeling's much too cool to get nervous," Marcus said. "You'll see."

"I can't wait 'til we can start playing Quidditch," Kyle said.

"Well, I'm sure as soon as Galvez sees that we can all stay in the air, he'll start us on that," Marcus asserted.

They'd arrived at the Quidditch fields on the opposite side of the school from the greenhouses. Another line of students streamed towards them from the school building. Ethan's heart sank a bit more when he recognized three of the oncoming students: smirking Simon Brocklebank and his two oversized friends, Lew Van Nort and Woody Harding.

"Oh, great," he groaned, pointing in their direction. "We're combined with the Prophet's house for flying lessons."

This news clearly dismayed Peter, who muttered, "Just what I need, Katrina looking over my shoulder."

"Come on guys, you're not really letting them bother you?" asked Anne Findlay, coming up from behind between Maddie Morrigan and Melissa Murthin. "We're going to out fly them today and when we start Quidditch, they're not going to know what hit them!"

"How can you be so sure?" Ethan asked.

"Well, the three of us have all played before," Anne said. "And Marcus, you have too, right? And believe me, playing against my brothers was tougher than Tenskwatawa could possibly be!"

There were twenty broomsticks standing in a holder at one side of the field. Their teacher, Senor Galvez, stood next to the brooms.

"Come, senors, senoritas. Take a broom and line up along here," he told them, pointing to two chalk lines across the center of the field.

As Ethan puzzled over which broom to take, Brocklebank bumped him aside and said, "Just pick one, Lloyd. It doesn't matter which one you choose, you're just going to fall off it anyway."

"In your dreams, Brocklebank," Ethan retorted. Now he was determined not to make a fool of himself, though he had no idea how he'd avoid it.

Galvez was burly, athletic and enthusiastic. He directed the students to line up across the field with the brooms on the ground next to them.

"Now, everyone, hold your right hand over the handle," he shouted. "When I count to three, bring the broom to you by saying 'Up!' Very simple, no? All right, one, two, three!"

Twenty voices cried "Up!' all at once. Twenty broomsticks reacted in about twenty different ways. Some rotated on the ground, then stopped. Others begin levitating upwards at one end or the other, only to fall back to the ground. Some twitched but didn't move up.

Ethan saw his broomstick, a somewhat bedraggled old one, rise about two inches off the ground and hover there. But Tim, to his own surprise, found that his broom immediately answered his command.

Galvez, who was walking along the line gesticulating and encouraging the students, noticed this and beamed at Tim.

"Now look here, Senor Van der Meulen has got it!" he exclaimed. "You must say 'Up!' with bravado! You are the master of the broom, take charge of it!"

Ethan shouted "Up!" again, trying to sound commanding, and to his relief the broom rose into his hand. He felt an exhilarating vibration in the wooden handle.

Within a few minutes, all the students were holding their brooms and Galvez told them how to mount the broom. Then he examined their grips and gave them instructions on how to maintain their balance once airborne.

The time for their first ascent had arrived.

"Now let us take just a little ride," Senor Galvez said. "Later, you may do more. On the count of three again, push off hard. Hold on and lean back slightly. You will rise into the air a few feet, then level off and hover there for a just a moment. To return to earth, lean forward gently."

"One, two, THREE!"

Ethan kicked the ground hard and was amazed to feel himself moving up, firmly grasping the broom. Though he was not far off the ground, the feel of the breeze blowing through his hair and buffeting the broomstick was the greatest thrill of his brief Kaaterskill career to that point. He looked to his left and saw a look of pure joy on Tim's face that he felt probably mirrored his own. Tim looked completely at home on the broom. He even took his left hand off the handle long enough to give Ethan a thumbs-up.

Not all of their classmates were doing so well. To Ethan's amusement, he saw that Brocklebank had kicked off at an awkward angle and was leaning too far back; he nearly slid off the handle before leaning forward hard and righting himself. Jennifer Appelbaum had gotten about two feet off the ground when the wind or nerves made her lose her balance and roll off the broom. She hit the ground with a noticeable thud, but seemed unhurt. Galvez hurried over, helped her up and cheered her on as she gamely tried again, this time rising about six feet off the ground.

"Now, lean forward and descend to the ground. Keep your legs springy for a good landing!"

Down they came. Kyle Stuart leaned too far forward and nose-dived back to earth. He picked himself up, only his pride damaged.

Tim seemed to land perfectly. Ethan staggered a bit as his feet touched down, but stayed up.

The rest of the hour was spent practicing takeoffs and landings; each time Galvez had them go a bit further up and gradually let them cruise around before landing.

Finally, as five o'clock approached, Galvez announced that they would finish up with a lap around the field.

"Senor Van der Meulen, you have earned the right to go first," he barked. "Senor Brocklebank will be second off the ground. Everyone else, take off after them as you are lined up. Take a nice, easy lap...this is not a race!"

Tim, who still had the same look of rapture on his face, took off and moved quickly up and away. Brocklebank, who looked miffed at being second, pushed off right behind Tim. Anne Findlay was next off the ground, followed by Katrina Powles. A few moments later, Ethan was in the air for his first real flight. He found the air currents a bit of a challenge but soon enough was moving easily around the perimeter of the field.

Despite the warning from Galvez, it looked to Ethan as though Tim and Simon were racing. Brocklebank caught up quickly and moved in front. Ethan saw him smirk and say something to Tim. Whatever it was, Tim clearly didn't like it. He yelled back at Simon and somehow accelerated right around him. Ethan wasn't yet sure how one sped up or slowed down, but obviously Tim knew. He went well ahead of Brocklebank, but about halfway around the field, Tim turned and looped back towards Brocklebank, flew under him and came alongside. Ethan, who was close to Anne Findlay by that time, still well behind the leaders, thought Tim and Simon must have been exchanging words again. Then Simon seemed to bump Tim and take off at high speed along the far side of the field.

"That was really childish," Anne called over to Ethan. "You can hurt someone, especially someone as inexperienced as Tim."

Indeed, Brocklebank had knocked Tim off balance and he spiraled down towards the ground. Ethan heard some of Simon's housemates--Harding and Van Nort, at least--chortling nearby.

Ethan closed his eyes, sure that Tim was going to crash.

Anne cried out, "Bravo! Well done, Tim!"

Ethan opened his eyes, which was good as he was about to sideswipe Peter Powles. He saw that Tim had not only righted himself but was gaining on Simon again at high speed. He whooshed by the startled Brocklebank, made a little reverse loop at the end of the run and landed effortlessly. A cheer went up from the other airborne Bradburys.

When Ethan landed, he could tell that Galvez was lecturing both Tim and Brocklebank.

"Senors, I told you not to race! There will be time for that soon enough. I'm afraid I'll have to take points from both of you. Senor Brocklebank, five points from Tenskwatawa. Senor Van der Meulen, that was a very nice escape; even if that was pure beginner's luck, I must give you credit for it. So, I will take just two points from Bradbury."

"Now," Galvez addressed the rest of the class. "That wasn't bad for the first day. Next time, we'll review and if all goes well, next Thursday I will introduce you to the game of Quidditch. Off to your houses, then!"

The Bradburys showered Tim with cheers and congratulations as they headed back to the school building.

"That was wicked, man!" Marcus exclaimed. "Are you sure you've never been on a broom?"

"How'd you get out of that dive, Tim?" Anne asked. "That really was a great escape!"

Tim just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't ask me to explain," he said. "'cause I can't. Sure was fun, though."

Katrina Powles walked by the knot of Bradburys and caught the eye of her twin.

"Hi, sis," Peter said. "What'd you think of that? Not so bad, eh?"

"Well, Mom and Dad will be relieved to hear you didn't kill yourself...I guess," Katrina said haughtily.

Simon Brocklebank sauntered by and said loudly, "Don't lower yourself talking to that crew, Katrina. Come on!"

With that Katrina turned on her heel and walked away into the midst of her own housemates. Peter looked a bit crestfallen.

Brocklebank wasn't quite finished with the Bradburys himself, though. With Woody Harding and Lew Van Nort behind him, he called into the crowd.

"Hey, Van der Meulen!"

Tim turned toward him. "What do you want?"

"You think you're hot stuff now, mudblood! Enjoy it while you can, 'cause we're going to make your life miserable out here!"

"Well, I'm shaking in my boots. How about you, Ethan, aren't you scared by the big man?"

"Bullies don't frighten me," Ethan replied. "And that's all he is."

"I'll see you later, too, Lloyd," Brocklebank hissed. "You'll wish you'd never left your dear muggles behind."

Marcus, Kyle and Anne had been muttering to each other during this exchange. As Brocklebank spoke, the Bradburys began encircling him and his two friends.

"I think you're a bit out of place, Simon," Anne interrupted. "If I were you I'd get out of here before you have an unfortunate accident."

Just then, Bruno Galvez reached the students. Sensing trouble, he asked, "What's going on here then?"

"Simon was just explaining why I should keep an eye on my back, sir," Tim said mildly. Ethan couldn't suppress a grin.

Galvez gave Tim and Brocklebank a severe look, then waved the Tenskwatawas back to their own group.

"Back to your dormitories now! And I don't want to hear about any more problems. Off you go then."

Later that evening, most of the first years lounged in the Bradbury common room talking over their eventful first day.

Kenny Sturtevant ambled over around 8:30 to join their discussion.

"So I hear you had quite a day, especially out on the playing fields," he remarked. "And someone cost us two points. That's a serious matter."

Tim blushed but said nothing. His classmates murmured in protest.

"But Kenny, he was really great out there!" Ethan blurted out. "Even Galvez thought so. He took five points away from Brocklebank."

"I see," Kenny said, trying but failing to look severe. "I guess I'll have to take that into account in considering what action to take."

Tim was now shrinking into his armchair, apparently attempting to become invisible.

"You're not going to punish him, are you?" Anne asked incredulously. "Not for standing up to a bullying loudmouth?"

"Punish him?" Kenny asked, no longer able to keep from grinning. "Punish him? I don't think so. Actually, I think I'll just shake his hand for now. Oh, who was it anyway?"

Everyone pointed at Tim, still blushing violently but now smiling too.

"Congratulations, Van der Meulen!" Kenny said, shaking his hand vigorously. "I ran into Danny Dewin at dinner. He's the keeper on our Quidditch team (I'm a chaser); he saw the whole thing from the main field. Says you're a natural, which is good, since we haven't had too many good flyers the last couple of years."

"Do you think Tim should try out for the team, Kenny?" Ethan asked.

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Kenny cautioned. "First-years aren't usually considered for the house teams. You'll be busy enough learning the game from Galvez and scrimmaging with the other houses' first-years. But let's just say we'll be keeping a close eye on your progress. Sometimes we can have a first-year as a reserve."

"I'm sorry I lost house points," Tim finally spoke up. "But I'm not sorry about anything else. It all felt right, including racing Brocklebank...especially beating him."

"Well, normally losing house points isn't looked on too kindly," Kenny said. "But when the honor of the house is involved, sometimes it can be overlooked. Don't make it a habit, though."

"I won't, believe me," Tim said sincerely.

"Well, I have an essay for Rhabdomancy yet to finish tonight, so I'm going to the library," Kenny said. "See you later."

"That reminds me," Ethan said. "I'd better get to work on Crockett's assignment." The herbology professor had told the class to bring a ten-inch scroll the next day detailing the culture and uses of the plant that had been in front of them that afternoon. "I'd better have something decent written about Mimulus or he'll think I'm hopeless."

So he spent the next hour or so reviewing the entry for Mimulus in Magical Plants of the Americas and Their Uses and summarizing it on his parchment. By the time he finished, most of the other first-years had gone to bed.

When Ethan climbed the stairs to the first year dormitory, he found that all the other boys had retired already. He got into his pajamas, gave Bucky a brief pet, brushed his teeth and blew out his candle. As he was about to climb into his bed, he looked out his window for a few moments. In the darkness, he saw stars blazing over the clove and a crescent moon high in the sky. The vastness of the night sky made him feel very small indeed.

Thinking back on his day, he wondered to himself whether he belonged at Kaaterskill. Sure, he thought he could handle some of the classes. He wondered why Crockett seemed to hate him so. Then he remembered the amazing feeling of flying on a broomstick and felt better. Still, doubts nagged him. After all, Tim's the first wizard in his family and he flies much better than I ever will. As this thought passed through his mind, he saw a bright flash over the south end of the clove as a meteor shot through the sky. Somehow the brief blaze of light in the darkness quelled his doubts for at least one night. Ethan got into bed, closed the curtains and slept soundly until morning.